Indiana State Sentinel, Volume 35, Number 6, Indianapolis, Marion County, 13 March 1889 — Page 1

VOL. XXXV-XO. 6. INDIANAPOLIS. WEDNESDAY. MARCH 13. 1889. ONE DOLLAR PER YEAR.

GUILDEROY

BYAuthor of "Under Two Fla," "Two Little Wooden Shoes," "Chandos," "Don Ge-maldo," Etc. I"ow first published. All rights reserved.) CHAPTER LVII. A few niplits after Aubrey walked Lome from Westminster after a tedious debate a weary waste of breath and speech serving no purpose but to lewilder brains already dull enough and deafen a country already only too obtust. He was fatijnieil, and was glad to breathe even the close air cf London streets after those many hours of PutTocatinü and useless verbiage. His thoughts went, as they ever did in his lonely moment., to Gladys. Was she keeping and dreamincr, forgetful of her sorrows? Or was she slecples and dreamless in that little chamber under the apple boughs, within the sound of the sea? When he entered the great pates of 13alf rona houie it was almost daybreak ; he xvent to his writing-room as usual to piance at any letters or dispatches which might have come during the evening. There were several; but prominent to his eyes amoncst them was a large envelope fcr&ring the post mark of Taris and addressed to him by Gailderoy. "The only woman whom I love has dismissed me," paid this strange mess.io. "T am free, with such poor freedom as can be enjoyed by one who w ill forever tlrag behind him the weight of an unchangeable regret. I shall never love the innocent woman whom I have married; but I will, if she accepts euch reparation, do my duty by her. "I cannot, I dare not promise more. I liave been false, often involuntarily, to all riy past promises save one hitherto; but to this promise, which I now offer, I will o faithful, if her indulgence 13 extended to me and her affections can le satisfied vith respect. I send my letter to her through yon, fi:t, because I know that tou have more influence over her than any one; and in the second place, because 1 owe you amends tor the insult and the suspicion I paed upon you. I can give you no better proof of my conviction that both were undeserved by you than by sending through you this offer of tuy future to her. I trust to your loyalty and your honor in confiding 6uch a mixtion to them, and can think of no better tray to prove to you that I am confident you are her best friend and my most faithful aJvi?er. You used harsh and bitter words to me when we last met; but they w ere such aa I e-eteem vou for, and if severe they were deserved". I have had too much vanity and too much success in life pnd in love; I have, in both, now received the most humiliating and most indelible rebuff. I have failed to retain the ht-art und to satisfy the imagination of the M'Oinan for whom 1 have felt a lasting or nn unselfish pas-sion. For my suffering you will care nothing, and vou will say that in bringing a crippled and mortified heart to my wife I shall but offend her further. It may be so, and if bethinks so I shall not protest against lir decision. But, aeain, you have said that she loves me ft 11, and women who love content themselves with little. The immensity of their tenderne.-s is wide' enough to cover all shortcomings, and they are happy if they can heal any wounds, even if those wounds have leen made by other women. I do not know that she has this tenderness to me; she has always to me seemed verv cold. But you have" said that she has It, and has it forme. In; this as it may, she is proud; she may prefer to silence the tonm-.s o the world by a reunion which shall be as real, or merely as apparent, as she pleases. There ha? been no publicity such as would make such reunion impossible, and the world, if we resume our former life, w ill soon fortret that we have been sejnrated. At il events 1 have thought that duty and honor, however tardily obeyed, lead me to offer my future to her. fc-he can do with it what ehe pleases." Aubrey flung the letter pn the floor in passionate anger. Its sincerity he did not doubt, but the mission it placed on him w-aH loathsome. '"Can be not go back to her without my intervention?"' he thought bitterly. "Must bo Deeds cail on me to rejoin his broken ties? Could he find no other messenger? CmiM he not write to her direct by ordinary rueans? What title has he "to put men a burden upon me? What right, in heaven's name, to bid me carry his soul to her and beseech her t3 wash it white?" He knew that iuilderoy hai written to him in all honesty and well-meaning, intending to make reparation for his suspicions by an act of perfect and even chivalrous confidence. He did justice to the motives which had dictated the letter, but he 'irseil the writer for his cruelty and for the task which it laid upon "him. Tor a'Aüiie he wa tempted to reject it to sen 1 it back with it inclosure, and eav: "1 cannot 1? your embassador, r-he "is yours; go to her without preface." Thrice iie wrote thone lines, or lines similar to them; and then tore them up, dissatisfied with them as cowardice and selfishness. If he loved her, as h- did, should he lose any occasion of opening the pates of happiness to her ? He knew that he was .roud and unforgiving; that she deemed lerseif bound in self-respect to adhere to her choice cf a lonely and fielf-sutlicing life; be knew that Ouilderoy, sroing to her eimply because the woman whom he loved had dismissed him, would almost surely be dismiwed by her with scorn and even with hatred. Was not he, who knew this, bound to do his uttermost to stand between her and what would be to her a lifelong severance from one whom fhe loved? To employ such nttn9 as he possessed of swaying her mind and persuading her character to bend to that forgiveness without which she would be eternally wretched ? To do for her in this moment of her life what her father would certainly have done ha1 he been living now? lie was obliged in no way, indeed, to fcerve her or hi cousin ; he could let their lives drift apart as they might, and would have no need to blame himself or fear the blame of others. But that cold neutrality seemed ba.se to him; that withdrawing of his conscience behind the pale of what was obligation and what was not, neemed to Lira poor and mean. Generous natures know nothing of euch cautious limitations. "If I lova thee, what is that to thee 7 he thought. .Nothing, indeed, but to him

it was much ; to him it seemed to require from him as much devotion and service as though she had been wholly his. She had trust d him entirely and innocently trusted him; to Aubrey this gave her title to his allegiance forever. He took up the letter for her which had been inclosed in Guilderov'e. It was left unsealed for him to read it. He did not read it he could guess the contents; they must be, he knew, the same that had been said to him softened and mitiirateJ, probably, but the same in substance. He put it, unread, in the inner jacket of his coat and rang for bis private secretary. "I must go into the country for a day," he said to the young man. "There is nothing pressing at the house for the moment, and I (shall be back to-morrow night in time for a division if there be one. See to these matters," and he gave him the directions necessary for the conduct of many subjects of importance and urgency, with the rapidity and clearness of explanation which becomes second nature to public men. In another hour he was in the open country, and in the midst of fieMs and woods bathed in pale sunshine, going toward the southwest seaBhore where the village of Christslea lay, with the swell of Atlantic rollers beating ag linst its cliffs. He had not seen her since the day tnat he had told herthat he could have no mistress in any sense of love save England. He had written to her briefly from time to time, to hear of her health; but no other intercourse had taken place between them. In his letters to her he had pleaded the stress of parliamentary and ministerial work as the reason of his ab-ence. She understood what the true reason was, and did not urge him to visit her as ehe had been used to do. I5ut the weeks and months had leen more dreary, more intolerable to her, now that she had lost the one relief, the one solace, the one pleased expectancy of bis occasional visits, and often she wi-hed wistfully that she wero lying insensible to ad pain beside her father under the mossy turf. The companionship and tho correspondence of Aubrey had been to her a far greater happiness and consolation than she hid known until they had almost censed, or had at the best passed into an infrequent and restrained assurance of friendship. Often now as she walked to and fro tho shore in the rough winds of the early spring weather, she felt with a feeling akin to terror that it was not liuilderoy but bis cousin whom she missed, v.hom she thought of, whom she regretted. All that serious and tender solicitude for her, all that manly and cenerous devotion to her, although so carefully kept within the bounds of friendship and family relationship, had penetrated her inmost nature with its unselfishness and moved her io a gratitude which was in itelf a form of affection. She had not been conscious of how great a place he occupied in her life until the cessation of his visits to Christslea. She began slowly to realize, as she had never realized before, what were those dangers to her of which her father bad warned her in words whoso meaning she could now read by the light of her own heart. Her present was a blank, and her future was one which terrified her. She began to realize also how frightful a thing was this utter loneliness to which she was self-comierued. There were moments when it was all that she could do to find strength to resist the impulse to cast herself headlong from the rocks, to find the numbness and dumbness-of death among tho.e tossing waves in which her rosy feet had paddled in infancy, finding in them her merriest playfellows. It was the memory of her father which alone sustained her against the supreme temptation of isolated lives. fhe seemed to hear his voico saying to her in the words of the Athenian by whom .a higher creed was reached than any priests ever taught, "When death approaches, the mortal part dies, but the immortal part departs, safe and uncorrupted, having withdrawn itself from rteath." Should she dare to put out that light of the soul with her own hand? Her father had rightly foreseen that the friends who would servo her best in the trials of her life would be those immortals with whom he had taught her, even as a child, to converse. With the coming of the tardy English spring the burden of her days grew heav ier, and their solitude more unbearable in its vacancy. When all the gladness of reviving life is coming to all animate thin irs and to tho waking earth itself, all youth which is lonely and unloved feels its isolation, and its physical and spiritual desires, with more cruel sharpness than at any other period of the year. Greenness to the grass and glory to the flower can return why not the joys of the senses and the soul? fche knew that Aubrey had eaid aright; that her life was barren and unblessed. Was it hpr own fault that it had become so? Had he lacked gentleness, sympathy, indulgence? all those unproniised gifts which love should bring unasked, and without w hich the bare promise of fidelity is naught. Humility had come to her, and great sadness, and contrition, and Feif-censure ; she began to learn how hard it in to j;uard the pates of the noul from its tempters, how useless to pledge feelings which must change as the mind and the heart prow older, anil demand more, ere they can be satisfied. She ceased to blame her husband in proportion as ehe ceased to care for him. Her love seemed to have died out of her with that violent and delirious jealousy which ouce had moved her so absolutely, and now seemed dead as iast year'a leaves. It was a balmy and eunny afternoon when Aubrey reached Christslea. The cattle, releasee! from their stalls, were straying at will on moor and pasture. The first fisher fleet of the spring time was visible in tho oiling; red-brown sails against a eilverydilue eky. The orchards were all in bioom in a sweet confusion of rose and white. The pigeons flew above the boughs and the pea-gulls flew above the waves. It was all soft, cool, pale and fresh; I'nglish in its sobriety and simplicity of tint, and with the haze and the sctnt of the morrow'fl rain in the air. 8ho was standing in the orchard when he put bis hand on the latch of the gate. A joy of which she was wholly unconscious broke over the sadness of her face like Bunshine as she saw him and came toward him. "It is so long since 3011 were here," she said, holding out both her hands to him. He took them in his own, but did not hold them mora than a moment. "Yes, it is long," he said, with a sigh. All that welcome and aflection speaking in her face were to him as the sight of a clear water to a tired wayfarer who cannot rach to drink of it. "Havo you missed me?" be asked, involuntarily. A shiver passed over her a she etood in the pale sunshine. "Very much," she aswercd simply. He was silent. Then he said abruptly, "Let us go up on the cliff: I have nomethinsr to tell von

which will be best told by your father g grave. Decides, under these blossoms ' and bouehs one cannot breathe. "I will go where you wiil,"phe Baidjher new-born happiness was startled and over

shadowed. She had a presentiment of ill. They walked almost in silenco out of the orchard and across the 6tretch of rough grass-land which parted it from the cliff-path which Guiideroy a few months earlier had seen her ascend. It was early in the afternoon, and the silence was unbroken around them; tho air was gweet and strong, the sea calm. They crossed the head of the cliff until they reached a seat under the churchyard wall, ßhaded by the evergreen hedge and the yews and pine3 of its inclosure. "We will wait here," said Aubrey. "You can see the sea; it is always your friend and counsellor." The graveyard, with its tall and elender marble pillar rising above the evergreen foliage, and the light, silvery, shadowy wands of blossoming willows, was behind them, and before them, far below, the grav and tranquil waters of the bay. "I have this letter to bring to you from Evelyn," he said, and took out the note addressed to her and gave it to her. As she recognized the handwriting she grew very pale, and an expression that w as almost terror came into her eyes. "He has no right no right whatever to address me," she said, and mado a gesture to refuse the letter. It fell on the turf between them. Aubrey stooped for it, and offered it to her again. "He has every right," he said coldly, "and you are bound to read whatever he says to you. Do not be either obstinate or ungenerous." "It is you who are ungenerous to rue." "Do not let us quarrel, my dear," said Aubrey, in the words that Beatrice Soria had used to Guiideroy. "Life i3 painful enough without dissension. I bid you read this letter first, lecause I know the contents, and know that they are such as you are bound to consider; and because, in the second place, as I have been made the bearer of it, he would think that I had betrayed my trust if you refused." ' She was silent some minutes; then she took the envelope from his hand and opened it and read what it contained. She read it rapidly, guessing rather than perusing its sentences. "Aubrey will IAI you better than I can write to you what it is I ask from you after these many months of silence and separation. Do not think, my dear, that 1 would urge for a moment my rights that the law may give me when I have morally forfeited them ; and (io not think that I would seek to persuade or to solicit you. I tell you frankly, the woman 1 love, for whom I left you, loves me no more. This avowal is the greatest nnxf of my sincerity and of my humility that I can give vou. I make you no grand protestations, but, if you care to do bo, our life together might be renewed, with every wish on my part to make it happier for you than the past has been. Marriage is the crudest of all mistakes, nud I cannot ever regret enough that I led into its caj.tivity your innocent and ignorant youth. I can only say that the error was mäde by me in all good faith, and that if I have been untrue in my promises to you and to your father, I have alwavs leen so without premeditation, and with self-reproach which has been more poignant than you would consent to believe. 1 have offended you, and I will not seek to palliate my o dense by raying, as I perhaps might say with some show of self-justitication, that you did not give me either that sympathy or that indulgence which I had hoped for from you. It is enough to say now that if you" care to do so I am willing to begin our lives afresh." The letter was manly, sincere, and plainly dritten from the heart; it would have touched and won any woman who had loved him into forgiveness of faults even much graver than his had been; but it did not touch her because the feeling w hich had bound her to him was dead, and a dead thing can return neither cry nor caress. She read it. Then she threw it again on the ground. "He comes to me because she ha? dismissed him!" she cried with violence, her nostrils dilated and quivering like those of a blood-mare under the spur. "It is at least honest of him to tell you so. lie could easily have affected to you that he abandoned her for your sake. Believe me, candor in a man of the world to women, and about women, is the very rarest of all qualities." She turned on him with passionate indignation and suffering. "You defend him; you always defend him! Why should lie" choose you as his messenger? Has be not hurt me enough already?" Aubrey passed over the admission which was confessed in her words, "He chose me because be had been unjust to me and wished to give me this mark of his confidence," he replied, with that self-negation which he had imposed on himself when he had accepted the mission to her. "I no not defend his past conduct. He knows all that I think of it. But I am compelled in honor to say now, that I believe be desires fully to make euch reparation to you as may be in his power." "Because the Duchess Soria baa wearied of him!" "Not only because of that. He is neither heartless nor conscienceless, and be felt bitterly months ago that ho had tieen false to his promises to your father. 1 think you may believe what he says now the more fully because he makes no trotest of feelings which do not move him, and which would be even au insultoffered to you at this moment, however the future may renew them in you both." "They will never bo renewed. Their love was renewed because it had once been gTeat: but between him and mo there has never been such love never, never! A year ago it would have made me glad," she eaid wearily. "I should perhaps have scorned myself, as I told you that I should do, but I should have been happv. Not now. He has waited too long. "What does he think I am that I should be willing to meet him after all these months?" "He thinks vou are what you aro his wife." "lie set me freo from that bond when he left me." "Your father would not have said so." "But I say so. Go you and tell him so. Why does he seek to return to me? Not out of real remorse, nor any tenderness; only because he is proud and knows that the world blames him." "You are too harßh." "Truth is harsh." He felt a mad longing to lift her in his arms and bear her tar away from all their world before bis cousin" could reach there to claim her. For a moment all tho 6oft pale sunshine seemed to him red as blood, and the beating of the sea upon the sands like the throbs of the many human hearts sounding in agonized revolt against the brutalities and the hypocrisies of social law. "If he had written it a year ago six months ago it would have made me happy. I would have forgiven all ah ! what do I say ?- Love always forgives because it is "love. Now I can not forgive because I have ceased to care 1 Why does

he come to me when it is too late? Go, tell him so. It is too late ! too late !' "It is never too late for a woman's

mercy ".Mercy! What mercy would there be in a feigned welcome? What is the body without the soul ? What use to give him' myself when I cannot give him my affections?" "You will give them again when you have seen him once more. You are dreaming of coldness and of harshness that you do not feel " "I have ceased to dream long ago. I know what life is too well. Dreams are for the happy !" "Surelv on your side " "Yes; "I loved him as one loves when one is very young; but it is dead in me; it is dead, dead, dead, I tell you like any skeleton of any drowned creature that lies at the bottom "of that sea." Aubrey turned trora her, and walked to and fro upon the turf before her. The pain of the moment was almost beyond his strength, well tutored though it was. "You think so," he said after a long pause ; "you think so because you are hurt, indignant, and even more outraged at his solicitation of forgiveness than you were by his original desertion. But this will pass away. You once loved my cousin with passion if not with wisdom; he is not a man whom women forget. When he comes to you, you will consent to what be wishes; "you will pass over those eighteen mouths of bitterness, you will onlv remember that you were once devoted to him, and that he was the man who taught you the tirvt meaning of love, and was the father of your dead childen." "No, no, no!" she said with violence. "No for ever no! His place is empty in my heart. There is a etone there; no warmth, no desire, no remembrance; only a stone the &tono which has the seal of oblivion, tho etouo that you eet on a grave !" She threw herself on her knees beside the wooden bench and buried her face in her hands, and sobbed with the convulsive weeping which he had seen once before, "Why could I not meet you first? You would have been true to me!" she cried in the pa?sion of her tears, not knowing what she said; knowing only that a great nature was wasted on her in vain, without joy to itself or gladness to her. Aubrey sighed; his features changed and his eyes tilled with an unspeakable yearning. He saw that her heart in its indignation, its solitude, its want of sympathy, and its recognition of sympathy, both of furling and of temperament, in him, turned toward him instinctively as a beaten child turns to those who will soothe and caress it. He saw that with but little effort he could detach her from what etill remained in her of love for his cousin, and lead her humiliated and lonely soul to his, there to find comfort if not joy. He knew that he had in him the power to console her, the heart which could alone meet and content ber own; but ho knew, too, that it rested with him to awake her to this knowledge or to let it slumber in her unaroused forever. Ho had never before deemed it ossible. He had 1kh?u wholly sincer&vLen he had told his cousin that she cared nothing for himself. But at this moment, in her whole attitude, in the tears she wept, in the broken words she muttered, he realized that it would not hi a task beyond his tKjwers to make her eee in him more than ä friend, to lead her from gratitudo to other and warmer, emotions, to suggest to her that the greafest chatisement which a woman can take upon a faithless love is to find and make her life's happiness without it. For a moment all his heart and all his senses made the temptation more than be bad strength to bear; but with an instant's meditation he fouud force to resist. "I should not have loved you in that sense, my dear," he said with a lie which was more heroic than any truth. "Long ago I loved one woman madly, and ehe was false to me. 1 would have told you my story long ago, but I never thought that you would care to bear it. I gave to her all that a man can give, and ehe rewarded me by the lowest of intrigues, the foulest of infidelities. 1 was very young when she robbed my life of all "its color and warmth, and left me only such cold consolation as may lie in the pursuit of public duties. But she closed my heart to passion for ever. I can feel affection and devotion I feel them both for you but nothing beyond those. Do not think of me ever as a lover for any living woman. The only mistress I shall ever have in any sense of love is England." His voice wa- low and grave, and infinitely tender; his declaration was an untruth, but it was nobler than all truth. "Even were it otherwise with me," he said, wearily, "I could not, I would not, risk the accusation from my cousin and the world that I bad abused his trust in me, that I had taken advantage of his altene and your loneliness. I may mistake, and think that honor in me which is only selfishness, but this is what I feel and w'hat would guide me if if you w ere still dearer to me than you are." He paused, and his deep and labored breathing sounded painfully upon the country silence round them. "And if," he added, "if I be so urgent with you to receive Guiideroy and reunite your life to his, it is because I feel that in the earliest years of our acquaintance I perhaps did wrong in enlisting; your confidence and giving you my sympathy. I öfter now blame mveelf; 1 perhaps helped to alienate you from him. I perhaps turned toward myself sympathies and confidences which, had I not been there, might havo found their way in time to him. I ask you, dear, to take this remorse from me. He has many lovable qualities; he has many high talents; he ieels sincerely toward you, if not warmly; vou may make his future euch as his boyhood promised, if you care for him." "But I do vol caro?" She rose to her feet ; her features were etern and scornful, her eyes were full of passionate feeling burning through their tears; he peetned to her as cruel as Guiideroy had been, as the world had been, as life had been, caring nothing for her and her pain and her fate; caring only for the world's opinion and a man's egotism, and the mere pride of race. "Then I have more remorse than I thought, or than I have strength to bear," he said, as his eyes met hers for oue moment in that regard which strips bare the heart and unveils the inmost soul. Then, without another word, or any eign even of farewell, he turned away from her and went with rapid steps across the grassland and down the pathway to the cliff. She etood motionless and looked after him, her eyes wistfully searching the vacant air long after he had pai-sod from sight. The spring night was cold and the dews falling heavily when 6he left tho placo where her father lay, and returned with slow and tired steps to tho house. She had her husband's letter in her band. When she reached her chamber, she read it again and again, trying to

awake with it one chord of the music which was 6ilent in her soul. Life seemed to her bard, conventional, artificial, hateful. One man bad left her because his honor was dearer to him than she was, and one man returned to her because he was uneasy whilst the world thought ill of him. What was the worth of love or friendship if they quailed before the opinion of others ? What use were the beauty, and the heart, and the mind of a woman if they could inspire nothing more than that? She passed the hours of the night walking to and fro that narrow bedchamber where she had slept as a child, hearing the hoarse notes of the village clock record the dreary passing of the time. ( To be continued nert nwk.) FROG FARMING.

How m Main Man Experimented and Fnileol in His Experiment. "I see that a New York restaurateur is going to Manchester, N. II., with the intention of 'raising frogs for the Boston market,' " said a Maine mau to a Boston Jit raid reporter. "Now, I'll bet the best pair of boots I've got," he continued, "that he will be disappointed. Why? Simply because he can t do it, that's all. IiOt me tell you of an experiment that was tried away down in Bangor some years ago. There was a prominent Bangorian, a bank president, wealthy and holding a tin-top position in the business world, but a trifle eccentric. He made lots of money in his regular business, but be was forever inventing something which he believed would make him a millionaire, and into these schemes he put a good deal of cash which never came out again. He didn't know discouragement, though, and would come up 6miling with something new every time one of his pet projects was knocked into a cocked hat. Well, he got the :dea which his seized this New York man, that there was an immense profit to be made by raising frogs for the Boston market. Ho had a charming bit of lawn adjoining his residence, and this he decided to make the hatching ground. He bad a big, round, shallow pit dug, and the bottom of it stoned and ceniente! eo it wouldn't leak. The dirt taken out was made into a circular embankment around the pool, and about the edges he set out rushes and other fresh-water plants to give the frogs a nice biding place. He had water turned in through a special line of pipes at a grAt cost, and the 'pond' thus formed w j to all appearances just the place, that a irog with luxurious tastes would delight to inhabit. Then he enlisted the services of all the small boys in the neighborhood to catch tadpoles and little frogs, paying them liberally, and in a short time his pond' was populous with the squirmers and jumpers. To be sure they would have plenty to eat, he supplied his pets with frequent and generous repasts of minced liver, white-bread crumbs and other delicacies he thought they might like. "All went well. The colony throve wonderfully; the tadpoles developed into little frogs and the little frogs fast grew to fat 'bull paddocks.' The air in the vicinity fairly throbbed with their shrill songs and dolorous grunts of an evening, and people came far and near to see the wonderful sight. One night a New York friend of the frog culturist came in on the late train and was taken to his house. The newcomer noticed the unusual sounds and asked their meaning. Whereupon bis host revealed to him the whole schetue and received his congratulations on the promising look of the enterprise. Before the two separated for the night they agreed to go in the early morning and inspect the pool. They kept their agreement and not long after dawn sailed out, each carrying a quota of food for the croakers. All was silent when they reached the 'pond.' 'Never mind,' said the frog farmer, 'just you wait until I throw in this chopped liver and you'll see plenty of them.' lie cast his panful of the dainty far out and it feil into the water with a tremendous splash. But there was no response; no angular head with g'V-lc eyes appeared in the vicinity; no sprawling legs were seen kicking under the surface; there was not a single 'kerchug to denote the plunge of a croaker from the rushy banks. 'Throw yours in now,' said the host, and the guest complied. But when the splash hat died away the placid pool was disturbed by no movement. 'Well, this is singular,' exclaimed the puzzled cultivator; 'there's enough of 'em about here and I never knew of 'em to hide like this before.' So the two walked around and around the 'pond,' intently watching. They saw nothing, however, and when at last the now nettled bank president seized a pole and thrashed the weeds ami rushes, he did not scare up anything. Banting and perspiring with his exertions for be was a portly man the inventor of frog farming, mortified by bis failure to astonish his friend, gave up his search temporarily and they went into the house for breakfast. That disposed of, the quest was resumed, but neither then nor ever since has a frog been seen in the vicinity. "Every kieker of them all had migrated elsewhere during the night. "And upon my word and honor this is a true story." Rojal lllood In Everybody's Veins. Hitltimore Sun. Every man has two parent, four grand parents, eiht preat-v;ranl parent, sixteen Rreat-great-prandparent, thirty-two great-great preat-gnindparents, etc. Now, if we reckon twenty-live years to a generation, and carry on the above calculation to the time of William the Conqueror of Bnglaud, it will be found that each living person must have had at that time even the enormous number of C,1K,0U0 of ancestors. Now, supposing we make the usual allowance for the crossing or intermarrying of families in a genealogical line, and for the name person being in many of the intersections of the family tree, still there will remain a number at that period even to cover the whole Norman and Anglo-Saxon races. What, therefore, might have been pious, princely, kindly, or aristocratic, stands side by bide inline with the most ignoble, plebeian or democratic Kach man of tho present day may b certain of having had. not onlv barons and 'squires, but even crowned heads, dukes, princes, or bishops, or renowned generals, barristers, physicians, etc., among his ancestors. TU Vital Klemnt. iriiiUdflphU Iiecor.i. Toor luve ntor "I have perfected a wonderful invention, sir, which needs only capital to develop. It is a process of extracting electricity in enormou quantities direct from coal. It will reduce the coot of motive power to a mere fraction of the present cont; it will heat and light whole cities at about the cost of supplying water." Wall Street Broker "Is the machine ready?" "Yes sir; working now." "Will you allow any one to examine HV "Any one at all. It is protected by patent. The whole world can look at it and ee exactly how it works." "Humph! Won't do. Impossible to get capital for buch an invention, it lacks the vital element of mystery." Changed. Lite, Tonrist "What great changes time works here in the West I A few years go this region was peopled by reds without a white." Kansas Hustler "An sence the drouth it's be'n mostly whites without a red. Oh, time work a heap 0' changei."

THEY'RE NOT DEFEATED.

TARIFF REFORMERS STILL HOPEFUL. White Protectionist Has I!een Chosen President They Feel That the Cannv Must . Yet Triumph Preliminary Meeting ot the Conference Last Night, Tucxlsy'a Daily Sentinel. At Masonic hall last night was held a meeting that will prove historic. It marked a red letter day for the tariff reform principle in Indiana, and, indeed, of the country. From it will emanate influences that will continue to grow and spread until the principles for which the meeting was held are realized in their full fruitiou, when the enormous system of taxation that now oppresses a people and robs one class for the benefit of another will be overthrown. "Organize, agitate, educate," is the motto which, if followed, will bring glorious success. It was fitting that the meeting should have been called for yesterday, when the man elected by the monopolists and moneyed men was induoted into the chief magistracy of the nation. It gives a rebuke to the frieudsof tariff reform who think the cause has received a fatal blow in the election of Benjamin Harrison. About three hundred earnest advocates of taritf reform were in attendance at the deliberation last night. The proceedings were marked by a deep earnestness and determination. Mr. Kucar A. Brown called the meeting to order and introduced the temporary chairman in the following wordsOn liehalf of the committee of arrangements and the friends of tariff reform of Indianapolis I welcome you. taritl reformers, froni all over the great ute of Indiana, to our city. It is fitting tor ut to meet on this day In convention assembled for the purpose of aaso-itiDj ourselves together as a league. To-day an executive who preferred to h rlcht than to be president ha gone hack to priat Iii. His courageous nifs.ige U congress made his defeat poss.hle by inciting asainst htm the organized comtiiuuiMn of weath, but that document has placed him high aiuone the statesmen, of our time, it put C otitic upon a higher plane, and olidincd over onealf of our people a'tvjut a principle which mut Jirevail in tlie near future. IIa goes out of otiicu ionorcd and respected bv the tx-st people fn all parties, and recooiMl by the great maes of the people as the leader of their cause. The condition which confronted the country when that in r Map was written confront us to-iay. The millions of money unnecec-arüy taken aunually from the channels of trade, t ill continues tj be hoarded in the treasury. Our business interests will suffer unless relirf is granted. t"hall this hoarded surplus g t baik to tho pviple through johs which well with corruption, or shall that money, Ter and above the needs of the government, economically administered, te allowed to reruaia with the people in the first Instance? In addition to the surplus, idiall that vast amount of money collected off the consumers, as a tariff tax. at the rate f a billion, or more, dollars a year, for the het:etit of tru-t and uionopolies. not one dollar of which goes t par the expanses of the Kovernment, be continued, or nhall we 11 -land njoal la fact, aa in theory, before the law? Thee are questions which will coine before the present administration for Its action. If the platform of the Ohicag conrention is to be carried pot by our new president, and, if I renM-ruber Tightlr, bo expressed himself as being heartily in sympathy with it, the people need fipect no relief. The purpose of this proposed league and of other Vindreil leagues which arc bring formed all over this nation, is to edacate the people in tlw doctrine that they do not grow rich or prohperous by taxing themselves heavily for the exclusive benefit of a favored few. I looks as though o effort were necessary to promulgate a truth so self-evident, but when party politic run high and the heal and glare of a campaitn are od, reason is tern j,orara!ly dethroned. We ho;in on the firt ?ay of a" hi.-h protective tariff administration to lay the faun l.-.tion of a Minerstnictiire in which the keystone shall be "L"nTieocssary taxation is uniuM taxation,'' from which superstructure Miall he taught the nimp'e truth that a itradii.il return to a free trade ehall 1 our gradual emancipation Iroin commercial elavtry. I now have the pleasure of introducing to you as your temporary chairman, a fctu lent of markets 0s well as of niaxiius, M. Foster of lort Wayne. Mr. Foster made a neat but brief address, lie said that they hail probably heard that the fctudent of maxims went out of the whitf houe and the student of markets went in "yes, a Ktudent of markets." he said, "a student to learn the markets, to control them and to manipulate them for selfish interests and ajrainst the people." The call for the meeting was then read, and the convention was then called to a consideration of the work of organization. The su?pestton of the chair that a credentials committee be appointed, was met by the motion tbnt nil the Liriil reformers re(ent who would join the leatrue fehould be permitted to take part in the deliberations of the convention. This was carried. A committee on permanent organization S. 11. Kabtoo of Lebanon, A. Z. Foster of Terre Ilaute, 1. W. Bartholomew, Prof. W.J. Ilowk and lr. AVall waa then appointed. 'While it was preparing its report a sort of love feast was held. Speeches were made by Jtepresenta'ivea Zoercher and Foster, JuJc:e Scott, the Hon. tieor;e W. t'ooper. Itepresentative Ileasley and Senator Howard. Mr. Foster spoke very clearly and to ths point. He enid that organization was tieceFary and necessarv now. it seemed, he said, that in the days of Jel!er?on it was possible to strike a popular chord; that this is not true tvd iy is because of intrenched capital. A local illustration was nt hand. As popular a reform ns was the school-book bill introduced in the legislature, it was a hard lijrht to pass it. Not until TlIK SKNTINEL applause haJ ripped the school-book trust's hide from head to foot and Btincint; blows were dealt by the Tudiann press did the lobby of the school-book trut yield. "This is only by the way," he said, "but it illustrates the Mretijrth and tenacity of the trust and high tarili advocates. As I walked down the street yesterday," he concluded, "the sun came out in all its beauty and I thought, 'this is the last day of our treat president's administration. ' When I awoke this morning the heavens seemed to wear a scowl. It was to be the inauguration of the advocate of hij:Ii tariff." The Hon. George W. Cooper, congressman from the Fifth district, müdea rather passionate address, ursine that tariff reform should not compromise but take a bold etand. The committee on permanent organization made the following report, which was adopted : Permanent chairman, the linn. A. T. Wright of Marion. Vine-presidents, Richard Greet:, Aurora; Nicholas C met, Versailles; I'.. V. Bin ;haru, MishnwaWa; Kotiert (Jeddins, Terre Haute; Hugh I). MeMullen, J'earborn county; T. J. llohinson, WinelieMer; '. ) I. Hi eve, Plymouth; F. T. Loi'Mn. Frankfort; .1. T.Sctt, Terra Hante; J. 1. Kinney, Kid:et wi ; Henry Kanie, Anderson; I. l'. i fweftzer, Marion, and J. M. i arrett. Fort Wayne. S'tretaries, T. J. Hudson, Ind'suupoli--; Keller Cushman, Madion; W. C Iueil, Indianapolis; tieorgo W. Tipton, Parke county. Cotiiniltteon Kewrtiitinns Samuel II Mors. Indianapolis: I. N. Fierce, Terre Haute; W. A. Ticken, bpenccr; George W. t'iypr, Columbus, and Ldar A. Brown, Indianapolis. The committee oil constitution and by-laws will be named to-day by the committee on permanent Organization. The permanent chairman then made the following address that was interrupted again and again with applause: UKSTI.KMfS OF THK Cow V BfTION Accept nT sincere thanks for this manifestation of your confidence and regard. I assure you that you have mado no mistake, at least in the respect of having called to preside over your del titrations one who is in full fynipathy with the object for which you have come together the organization of a state le.u'tio for the dis.einmotion oft knowledge of the tariff question. I know that it has been trumpeted to the four winds by our opponents that the question of the tariff has been settled for a generation to come. But 1 warn the high-taxers now and here that the reeout contest was only a skirmish compared with what they have got to meet in the near future. They have fought and won their first battie oi Bull Run. Tbev have yet to meet as at Gettysburg. On the fih of last November, under a leader who preferred to be right rather than be re-elected to the presidencv, we charsed in solid column up to tho very wa'.lt of the citadel of bigh protection and breached them. H.it bra dastardly maneuver, th n uukuown to political warfare in this republic, they quickly rilled the breach we made with "blocks of five," led on by the "trusted" men wi'.h the "necessarr funds." and we were forced to retire, but not la disorder. Our great leader was unhorsed, but not vanquished. Tbre was do rout, do demoralization, and there have been no desertions since. N) far from the onestlon of tariff reform being settled for twenty years to come, the fortress of rrotection Is to-day in a state of siege. For we are camped on the bdtle-fiold and our watch-fires are blaring brightly on the hilltops round about its frowning walls. Onr battle flairs are not trailed in the dust, but advanced full high tgalnit the moroiog

son, and onr heroic bugles breathe deSanc to tb beleaguered foe. We hear no longer the rattle of musketry and the exulting cheer, but instead oar h i are filled with the thunder of our siee-gutis aa they keep up an incessant and tvl lue fire upn the enemy's stronghold. And when the time shall com for the next and final assault I predict that the hosts of tariff reform will sweep over the out works of intrenched privilege and greed like an Arctic or Antarctic wave, and ienetrating to the innermost stronghold of the robocr barons, pull down its higti Walls, leaving not one stone upon another. In the lull preceding the next great conflict, and while the war drums throb no longer and the battleCatfs are furled, there is work for us to do. We must strengthen our httulion. We must make convert to oar views. We can't depend on the floater. He belonirs to the other tide at least, they will have him whrn tho time comes. His present ncwi ot monopolistic fat in his frying-pan will outweigh all considerations of the public good. The thinker, the buncst thiuker. is our man, and if we can gt him on our side victory will be ours. Each one of us should qualify and contert himself into a bureau of ioformstion on the tariff. We were beaten, at the polls in November with British flags and loodle, and with windy lies in rhyme. At the instance of Manufacturer 'Paul, who insisted that be must be paid a boun'y in order to continue bis business and to contribute lileral!y t the campaign fund, they p-ooceded t j pull the wool over the eyes of Kartuer Peter, and make him believe that be would enrich himself by consenting to be robbed la order to pay Paul, and when Peter pointed to the mortgage on his farm as the result of twenty-five years of high protection, they toid him the niorVff was a sign of life and health. Poor Peter! Another four years of contributing to the support of the iofantile Paul, and of the protection a.Torded him asrainst the pauper lalior of Europe will. I fear, reduce him to the point of allowing the niortinwre to b foreclosed and of filling his belly with the husks that his iwintj feed upon. I'.ut I have f.iith to believe Peter will see things ditlcrcntly it the next election and will stand with his friends. We must inaugurate o educational taritl ramraign. In this way we .must win. We can win in no other way. Let os not delude ourselves with vain anticipation of an easy victory, but prepare to ficht. We should remember that w'e war against privilege, and tnr!t it is oo mean adversary. Of all the dis(urbcrs of th domestic peace oi nations; of all the enemies f civil liberty: of all the obstacles that have stood in th way of human progress and development; of all th oppressions with which the spirit of evil bas afflicted, mankind, privilege is the ureate-it. It has been tb colossal thief and rohher ot every age an l eiinie. Vou cannot reason with it, for it is the personification of seltishness aud -greed; it never does tb square thing, and it hates fair play; it tat all it can get, and cries for more; it O'ver lets lo-.se tiil choked loose. Fril.iant in mind, it is bankrupt in morals. It prides itself on its superior eunoin and shrewdness. It prefers darkness to licht in which to do its dirty w,rrk; prefers the stiletto to the broadsword, assassination to the open tWld. Bu when driven fr ra coer and pressed to tbe wall it fghts like a tiger aud in nuer disregard of all rule of clvilired m arfare. Only recently one of its lieotenspts confessed to carrying "dynamite In his pockets. lut the root effective and daDtreroe weapon, and the oue we have most to fear Is money. We t'. do know how. for thirty tii-ces of the vile stuff poor Judas was led to betray his Master, and from that day to this bribery has been a favorite method of privilege to accomplish i's ends. IVpcnd upon it. if our people have so far retrograded in virtue and intelligence that money will buy the necessary voU-t-t uphold the present iniquitous System of national tavation. the Quays and Wan.imakcrs will be found tolurnish it. Whe n another citizen of this republic! becomes so covetous of high othcial station that be would buy it for a price and opes his rascal counter to his friends for such ignoble purp., bo ready, gods, with your thunderbolts. Iash him to pieces! It is a great mistake to underrate the power of tnoner in our elections and to undertake to Mittle the vile purpose and alarming extent to which it is used. I declare to you that through the corrupt o cf money the lody politic is fast beoomlng rotten from skin to core. At the door of privilege' Isy the serious charge that at the recent election it boupht its way into power; that it debauched tb public conscience as never before in the history of this republic and that It means to keep it up rather than surrender sdv portion of the protective system. If we could wasre tle contest in which we are -gaged under the favorab'e conditions which c retained fa this country forty years ago, when Dudley methods were unheard of and when toor men scorned to sell their votes, I should fee! that we had a walk-over. Hut money has beonrne "actor of trometidous power in politics and vast i."i4 of it will, no doubt, be throan into the reales against ns. I confess that I ihou!d be discouraged at the outlook if I did not havo in abiding failh in the intelligence, virtue and patriotism of the great mass of the iroercan people. Hot 1 believe that when led to e-w tbe rieht they will do it; thai their strong sense of Justice will not allow them to uphold a ystem which enriches one man at the expense of another: which grants to the few legislative favors which are denied to the many, which hightens the apex of our pyramid oi libtrtv at the exfx-nse of the base. 1 lllev that they will settle the question of class lezlsl.ition rightly and ajainst the biiih taxers 3nd trade reftrictionisU. as they have rightly settled the vexM questions of the pat. Therefore I bid yon be of good cheer and gird up your loins ior the cooiin c.nJict. If wrong, grieviously sh.ill e repeut it. Hut wo are not wrong. We are right and the gave of hell (-liall not prevuil against us. That misfortunes never come sineiy ems tob verified in our national history. Years ago we bad. th misfortune to l-eeome involved in a terrible civil war. 1" toler cover of an ail-per vadium spi: it of patriot-i-m which brooked no delay for the (ober second thought, scolded at conservative suggestion, and demanded the niost lavish sacrifice to uphold and defend the lias of the Lnion, privilege stealthilv' wound its way into the nation's eapitol. For twentyeight years its erpentine presence there ha lie n It.ou i'i by its horri i odor, and at every e tT.-rt of tin honest representatives of the people to dislodge It. It writhes nd hiscs an t darts out its red and venmr,us tongue. We preserved the l nion of the states, and we preserved w ith it a swtiaof taxation twhich it is not i'i the nature of freemen Ions to submit. Ilecause they were taxed and denied representation, and heauj among other thing Kirf George Ltd cut off their trade with other nations our r-MediHionary fathers threw off the liritish oke:ui l established the g rions institutions of civil lilxTty which we now enjoy. And so to-dv the question of taritl reform is a question of taxation and traxie restriction. Ojr rui.-.sion is to settle th-. cjufstion rightly and peaceably at !!:: bailot-box. Tariff reform means tastlr more than the simple cuttiiiir ilown of the people' tixe. it means lb destruction of class legislation ! this country and the perpetuation of onr system of government. Civil lilierty and love of country aro inseparable. One cannot live without the other. When patrlotUtii dies, liberty not lonir survives. Nothing will v quickly and surely undermine the patri tim of a free eople as the building up of a privileged class among them, it liegt ts discontent, envy, jealoo' and h.tte, and in the end there is open disregard of governmental authority, revolution, and bloodshed. As lonif as the sia!n.rt sons of Uncle fura llieve that be loves all of his child rcu alike and knows no favorites, so long they will love and obey bim, and tight for him to the death. A long as "our people believe that their government at Washincton is f r -e trom favoritism, and tufrans to be fair and impartial with all classes, so Jong they will respect and uphold it. l'ut hen they shall come to Ix'lieve that that government is purchasable, thjt it can lo bought to legislate in the iotret ff a class, that it is Man ling in with a favored Jew and promoting their interests by legislative enset ment to thu detriment ot the interests of other rise not less deserving, faiiin; to remedv the evil at the ballot-box, they are ready for revolution. Our republican government can cuaure on oo other ground than equal and exact justice toe very citizen. 1 lass lcislation has pot to c . There hss t to rs an end to governmental partnership ith ioairi io jI citizens in their private business. If we would preserve this glorious seH'-jovernment ( the people which our lathers so iselv established and bequeathej to us, and which has hct-u trenrtbetel and preserved by the bl'od of our own fellow-citizens sud neighbors, we tliou'd shun chus legislation, as we would a pestilence. By the repeai of class legislation we hall rid ourpelves of another dangerous tolitieal condition whirl obtains in this renuhlic to an a!arniing degree tbe separation and upbuilding of our citizens into a tonal I class of very rich and a lare c!as of very o".r petipie. When ent there by a time since tbe great tltMid when any nation ma le'intliionaires as fast as we have done in tho Tears that high protection. h beld wv in tbe couneiWnf the nation, and when in all the history of this republic, did the millionaire have so many tramp to keep him company? Fools that we htve'leeii to allow this monster privilege t live for a single day. I nder it baleful in?'ieuc w have sei-D the rich g ow richer, more arrogant ani corrupt, snd the poor grow or r. less patriotic aul eii-respecting. Ve have sen the hich-taxer and monopolists in their nisi chase a.ter wealth remorselessly trample the poor underfoot. We have rem the children of these poor growing up ia poverty and lgnorar.ee to become the slaves of svarice and tbe servile, tools i f unscrupulous politicians. We have heard their complainings in our ireets. We have seen them resort to the measure ol striking in order to right their prievous wtoiizj, oh, haute, that in a country like ours, with all it boasted institutions ot civil freedom, its free speech, its tree press, its limitless resource, aut! its boundless wealth of acres and of mines, already we bsve bad ti e next thing to bread-riots among our people! It must be apparent to every one that enough of wealth I dug and grown out of the ground eaca Tear to prtvide all of our eople with the necessaries and comforts ot life. But the trouble is, tinder tu sanction of legislative authority, the few are allowed to hog this "wealth at the expense and 14 the exclusion of the many, tine man is allowed to appropriate as much of it as a whole hundred of his neighbors. He should have hia hundred sbar.-s, to be sure, if he actually and honestly earned ibem. Hut ha did not earn then any mor than Andrew Carneciee med h"s Cre thotisanJ dollars a day. It would be nearer the truto to say that Mr. Carnegie made five thousand do Ian a day by having as a silent artner in bis concern tbe government of the United Mates. We have been recreant to our duty to allow such legislation. We ought to bave known, in fsct we did know, thtt privilege alwavs enriches the few and Impoverishes the ru8es. More than th s; Its continuance In placw and power me ns the increase of our stand ng army and of our detective bureaus and pollcw force-. It means a strenger government' than w now have, lor It is not in the nature of things that men wb nave tasted long of the sweets of civil freedom wUI tamely submit to legalized robbery and see thetaeelves and their families by onjuti ls re laced I penury and want and not raise a hand asaiatt tbe oppressor. Tbe high taxers and btDeoclaries of tbe protective svstem realize this, and bare said tn ibeir boart, shoot the striker, and th bolder 4