Indiana State Sentinel, Volume 35, Number 10, Indianapolis, Marion County, 10 April 1889 — Page 1

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VOL. XXXY-NO. 10. INDIANAPOLIS. WEDNESDAY. APRIL 10, 18S9. ONE DOLLAR PER YEAR.

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THE AMBER SCARF-PIN. Belgravia. The scarf or cravat-pin which has had euch an effect upon my destinies, otherwish fated to be humble, unadventurous, and obscure, was a email drop of amber cet in gold mounting of somewhat fanciful design. Inside the amber was a tiny insect, of the kind which Parisian jewelers made fashionable a few years ago, aa fetishes, under the name of "cri-cris." About six months ago I left England for France in a singularly happy mood. I had just become engaged to a charming girl, and the object of my visit to Paris was to purchase, aa presents to my bride, a quantity of these articles so delightful to the fair sex, which Paris alone produces. If I had contented myself with patronizing TJritisb, commerce, in the persona of the west-end tradesmen, none of my subsequent misfortunes would have happened. Hut doubtless also another reason for my visit to Paris was that irresistible attraction which the French city exercises over all who have passed even a short time within its walls, an attraction for which 'no psychological reason can be assigned, but which is felt by all. A great American statesman once described Paris to me us "the magnet of the world." "I come here every year," he said. "I am sure I do not know why."

j.nis attraction naa aououess innuencea me when I decided that my presents to Clara must be bought in Paris. I had lived in that city some years before, in in my young and Bohemian days, and had had anything but a good time. My principal reminiscences of the gay capital were cf financial dilliculties, of quarrels with tradesmen and hotel-keepers, and a number of entirely undesirable acquaintances. We had had an excellent crossing, and, after a hasty euppt r at Calais, I had got into a first-class carriage in the express to Paris. The only other occupant of the coupe was an English jockey, who went to pleep as soon as he had taken his 6eat. I had no such good fortune, as I am never able to sleep while traveling by train, and had to spend the weary hours as best I could with my thoughts. Fortunately at that time they were pleasant ones. At Amiens a French gentleman entered the train and seated himself directly opposite me. He was in a talkative humor, and it was not long before we were enpaged in conversation. Five minutes later be had introduced himself to me as the Marquis de Kergaradec, and it was not longbefore I was fully acquainted with Lis opinions on Gen. Boulanger, on Etnile Zola, Sara Bernhardt, and tne general variety of Parisian topics. The marquis w as an old man, elegantly dressed, and wearing the ribbon of the legion of honor. He was going to Paris, he told me, to bo f resent at the Prix du Jockey club the lue ribbon of the French turf." "That is to say," he corrected himself, "I am not going to Paris at all, bat shall get out at Chantilly." "I thought the "express did not stop there," I said. "When one is a big shareholder," he laughed, "7 y a f'es accommolement$ with m the 'orihetftjeaUway company." I had laughed at his ready adaptation of TartulFe's famous remark, and was sibout to say something in rejoinder, when I noticed that the marquis' expression puddenly changed, and saw that he was t taring at me in a manner which was almost offensive. His eyes were fixed on my collar. While I was wondering whether anything in my linen was exciting the curiosity and interest of this carefully attired old gentleman, he bent forward and said, in quite an altered tone of voice: "I beg your pardon, sir, bat what a curious scarfpin that is that you are wearing; would you mind showing x to me?" and added something about being an amateur of jewelrv. I willingly complied with his request, took the pin out of my tie, and handed it to him. He examined it carefully, turning it round and round. Then he stood up and " held it close to the carriage lamp, muttering to himself. At last he handed it back to me with a curx "Thank you," and changed his place to the seat in the opposite corner of the carriage, vis-a-vis to the sleeping jockey. x "It is a curious pin, is it not?" I said politely, though completely mystified by his change of manner. But he made no answer, sitting still and watching me. I made another attempt to bring him to explain himself, but finding it impossible to get a word out of him, shrugged my f-houlders and settled down again to my thoughts. At Chantilly the train stopped and the guard came to the door to inform the marquis, with much respect, that he had reached his destination. "I have changed my mind," said the old gentleman, "and shall go on to Paris. I remember I have an engagement at the jockey club." A minute later the train was dashing on ita way again, and did not stop till we reached Paris. I had no luggage beyond a hand-valise, and so had not to wait at the station. I jumped into a cab and drove off at once to the Grand hotel, very anxious to get to bed. I need hardly say I had long since forgotten all about my strange traveling companion. However, half an hour later, aa I was leaving the bureau of the hotel, where I had registered my address to go up to the room assigned to me, I met the old gentleman again, going into the bureau. He stared hard at me as I passed, first at my face and then at my pin. I thought it strange he should have followed me, and his persistent rudeness I found stranger still, but I had no inclination to trouble my head as to the reasons of his eccentricity, and dismissed him once again from my mind. At 10 o'clock I aroe, dressed, and after th inevitable cafe au lait that miserable pubetitute for an English breakfast went down and out on to the boulevard to visit the shops I had determined to patronize. Aa I passed under the porch of the hotel I noticed a somewhat disreputable individual, who seemed to be standing there on sentry. I noticed him again at the corner of line de Valmy, and a third time as I was crossing the Place Vendome. Just as I reached the arcade of the Kue de Castiglione the man came up to me, laid his hand on my shoulder, and thrust a paper under my eyes. Thinking it was some begging petition, I was feeling in my pocket for some coins, when the man said: "It is a warrant of arrest; I am ordered to secure your person." I took the paper from him and read it carefully. It was a printed form with . blanks filled in in writing, and was signed with a perfectly illegible signature. ' "We, Juge (.'Instruction, attached to the Tribunal of Paris, command the Agent of Public Safety, Ambroise Bernard, to arrest and to bring before us the sieur -(rny name). "Npqrlortm." (?) "I ara perfectly ignorant of your laws," I said, "and I am certain I don't know

what this means. Are you the Ambroise Bernard here mentioned?" "I am." "And what am I to do?" "To follow me." I thought it best to comply. If I had known what awaited me, I should certainly have knocked the man down and taken to my heels. It would have been much the wisest thing, however risky to do. But I did not know then what it is to be an incriminated person in France, My conscience was easy, and I imagined that after a few minutes explanation I should be free again. The agent conducted me to a neighboring police station, showed the superintendent his warrant, had me searched and my pockets emptied, and locked me up in a ceil. Here I remained for an hour, when I waa fetched out and hustled into the "salad basket," as the French call their "Black Maria" equipage. The "Black Maria" took me to the depot jail, where I was once more locked up. All this time not a word of explanation had I heard. I had not the faintest idea what I was accused of, but, being quite innocent of any offense, felt completely reassured. Indeed, my adenture somewhat amused me. It was a novel experience, and Mould give me something to talk about when I got back to England. By the French law every person arrested on suspicion must be examined within twenty-four hours. It was 4 o'clock in the afternoon when I was fetched by two gardes de Paris to undergo my preliminary examination. The writings of Gaboriau, lialzae, and de Boisgobey have so fully described the rflise en scene of the depot prison; the winding staircase, the dark passages by which a prisoner is brought to the fatal couloir, on which all the doors of the rooms of the juges d'instruction. or examining magistrates, open, as well as tne interior of such a room, that I will not describe what I saw, but come at once to the extraordinary conversation which passed between me and the magistrate charged with the "instruction" of my "affair." After he had asked me my name, age and profession, and received my answer, with credulous indifference, he opened a drawer in the table at which he was sitting, took out an object, and laying it before me, said: "Do you recognize this jewel?" "Certainly," I answered, "it is my scarfpin. It was taken from me, with all my other belongings, at the police station, this morning." "Can vou tell me when and how this

pin came into your possession?" "There you puzzle me," I said, remember. It's a curious fact," "I don't I added, I have smiling at the judge, "but true, no idea where that pin comes from. I don't remember having bought it." "Was it given to you?" "No. At least, I don't remember ever having received such a gift." "Perhaps you picked it up in the street," said the magistrate, with a slight touch of irony. "Yes, perhaps I did. This is ali I know about it: A few days ago, in turnincr over the contents of an old portmanteau, I found this pin. I did not care very much for its style, and can only account for my wearing it by the fact that I dressed in a .great hurry or- tho evening that lieft lxmdon, and that the first tie that came under my hand was the one into which I had stuck it when I found it." "Have vou written down that statement?" This to the clerk. "Yes. It's all down." "Well, then, let us continue. Perhaps you know when and how you came into possession of this book," said the magistrate, producing a volume and laying it before me. It was an old copy of the 'Memoirs of Abbe de Croisy,' which I had brought over to Paris with me, and had left in mv valise in the hotel. "Yes,"" I said, "I remember that I picked it up on a bookstall on the Quai des Grands-Augustins about seven years ago. It " "About seven years ago," said the magistrate slowly, as if to give his scrivener time to get my answer written down. "Yes. It was the first bargain I made, and that gave me a taste for book-hunting. I got it for two francs, and it is certainly worth two hundred. It is the first edition." "Where were you living in Taris seven years ago ?" "I don't remember. It was some hotel in the Latin Quarter." "And what were you doing?" "I was trying my hand at belles-lettres." The magistrate here rose and touched a belL To the usher who answered his summons he gave the order to introduce the Marquis de Kergaradec. It was the old gentleman who had been my traveling companion that morning. He bowed very politely to the magistrate, and gave me what I suppose was meant to be a withering glance. "Monsieur le Marquis," said the magistrate, "do you recognize this pin?" "1 do. It is one which belonged to my late brother, the Corate de Kergaradec. He brought the stone back from China, and had it mounted in the Kue de la Paix. I recognize it all the more easily inasmuch as the setting, which is by no means a common one, was executed from a design I gave him." "And this book?" "As certainly. That book belonged to the count. On the fly leaf is a dedication from the Abbe to Mme. de Poranouc. our ancestor in the time of Louis XV. Besides, the Kergaradec arms are stamped on the cover." "Quite satisfactory. These two articles were among the contents of the valise ßtolen from the count, your brother, at the hotel in Senlia on the night when he was murdered ?" "They were. But my declaration to the police, made at the time, must be still in existence. I set down the entire contents of that valise, which 1 could do all the more correctly that I had packed it myself." "That declaration Is in my hands. I only asked you for the form. Now, monsieur," continued the magistrate, "look at the prisoner. Bo you recognize him ?" "I Baw him for the first time in my life this morning." "You are certain?" "I am." "Well, then, all that I have to ask yon now is to sign the paper on which my greffier has written myquestions and your answers. You can then withdraw." The marquis signed and departed, with another bow to the judge and another withering glance at me. "What's all this nonsense?" I said, when the door had closed on the old gentleman. "What's all this nonsense about a count, a valise stolen, and a murder?" "I am here to question." said tbfmagis träte, "not you. Do you persist in refusing to state how this pin came into your possession ?" "I have told yon all I know about It," I answered. "Perhaps a little calm reflection will help to refresh your memory. I will see you again to-morrow. Meanwhile you will go back to prison."

"You might at least tell me of what I am accused." "Of the willful murder of Count Louis de Kergaradec in the hotel of the Kunning Stag, at Senlis on the night of September 12, 1881, and of the robbery of his valise, which contained, among other valuables, the two articles found in your possession." I burst out laughing. "Nothing else?" I said. "Not that I am aware of," said the magistrate. "Please sign this paper after reading it. It is our conversation just now." I signed, and as I was leaving the room the magintrate added in a most paternal tone: "Yes, just try and remember how that amber pin came into your possession. It will really be worth your while to account for it. A demain." That evening I was transferred from the depot to Mazas jail, where I was put au secret. This rigorous measure did not affect mo at all, as I had no friends to see and no letters to write. I had had an idea of writing to the English embassy, but, knowing how unwillingly interference is made with the justice of a country, I as soon dismissed iL The first question that the magistrate asked me on the following morning was: "What were vou doing at Senlis on the night of Sept. 12, 1881 ?" I said: "1 don't recollect having been there at all in tnat year." "Do you deny ever having been in Senlis at all?" "No. Formerly I often used to pass through it while exploring the forest of Chantilly, and, now that I come to think of it, I did sleep there one night that I had missed the last train." A "Was it in the month of September?" "Yes. Now I remember. It would be the 10th, 11th, or 12th. My birthday is on the 9th of September, and I had received a present of 5 that year from an uncle of mine, which I spent on an excursion in the forest." "Very good. It is well to be so frank. As a matter of fact, it was on the 12th, as we have learned by examining the hotelwoman's register för that year. You are entered by your . present name, and as a 'man of letters.' There can be no doubt that it is vou. The age and nationality indicated are yours also." A witness" was then introduced in the person of Mme. Porrin, the proprietor of the Running Stag inn. She recognized me at once as one of her lodgers on that night, and her testimony was confirmed by that of an old servant of hers, who had shown me to my room. After these had said all they had to say, the magistrate dismissed thrm, and proceeded to examine me as follows: "You left the hotel early on the morning of the 13th, and took the first train to I '.iris. You afterward disappeared. Where did' you go?" "I stayed in Taris a week and then went to London, where I have lived since. My affairs improved considerabl', and I am now a successful man." "Ah! Well, and about the pin? Haveyou remembered how you got it!" "I have been cudgeling my brains all night on the subject, but I caunot remember." The magistrate looked astonished. I had been so artfully frank so- far, he thougnt, in admitting what it was impossible to deny, that my inability to explain away this circumstance seemed to him extraordinary. "It is unfortunate," he said. "In fact, a number of unfortunate circumstances are against you. By the way," he a ided abruptly, "what has become of Pierre Bastide?" "Pierre Bastido? I never heard that name before." "Yes, Bastide. The man who was in the hotel the same night as you were, and who is suspected to be your accomplice. At first we thought that he alone was responsible, but since we have found these articles in your possession " "Do you really think, Monsieur le Juge," I said, "that if I had murdered this count to rob him, I should carry about on my person, and in full prominence, such very damning evidence against myself?" "The crime is an old one. You may have thought it was forgotten. But we do not forget here." "JCnfin," I said, "I know nothing about this murder. I never heard of it. I slept soundly all that night, and went back to Paris at 5 in the morning, and passed the rest of the timo that I remained here in the hotel des Grands-Augustins. I remembered its name last night. I am a respectable man, and whatever fortune I have I owe to my own industry and good fortune." "Your statement will be tested. Meanwhile, let me put before you the position in which you stand. You seem to treat it with indifference, and I must warn you that it is a very serious one. On the 10th of September, 1881, Count Louis de Korgaradec, an eccentric old gentleman, arrived at the Running Stag hotel. The eccentricity of the count consisted in always carrying with him all the money at his disposal, which, as he was a rich man, was usually a large sum. His valise, besides a change of linen, contained a certain quantity of bank notes and a few of the antiquarian treasures of the count. He was a great collector of curios of all sorts, and if he always had 60 much money about him, it was to be able to close a bargain at once for anything he might come upon in his travels. On the 11th a man passing by the name of Pierre Bastide, and ''escribing himself as a cafe-waiter, came to the hotel and took the room at the top of the house. On the 12th you came, and after inspecting several rooms insisted on having the one adjoining that in the occupation of the count. You refuse supper and go to bed at a remarkably early hour. The next morning you had taken the precaution of paying your bill in advance you leave the hotel hurriedly at 5 in the morning while it was still dark. At 8 o'clock Bastide comes down to breakfast, eats quietly, pays his bill and goes away with his knapsack on bis back. At 1 1 o'clock the woman of the house goes to wake the count, who never rose before that hour, but is unable to do so. Tue door is locked, and the key is not inside the lock. The woman, seriously alarmed, has it broken down and finds the old gentleman lying dead in his bed, with his right temfle fractured. All the valuables contained n his valise have disappeared. Suspicion immediately attaches itself to Bastide and to you. You are both searched for by the police, but in vain, and the affair was 'classed' and forgo ten, when, by the merest hazard the other morning, the brother of the victim recognized the count's pin in your cravat. He immediately suspectea you to be the missing Englishman, followed you to the hotel, and then came and informed me of the circumstances. I caused you to be arrested and had your room searched, with the result that this book was found in your possession. You will admit that there is at least reasonable ground for suspicion. By the way, bow did you tret the money to pay your bill at the hotel and to take your ticket to London ?" "I pawned a gold watch which had belonged to my father. The Mont-de-Piete

lent me 160 francs on it My bill at the hotel was 80 francs and my ticket cost about 35."

I " At wnat dato ma you pawn uns watch?" "It was about a week after I left Senlis. On the 20th or 21st cf September." "Please take that down very carefully," said the magistrate to the registrar. "It is of vital importance. Do you persist in denying all complicity in the crime?" "Most certainly I do." "If you could only explain about that pin. That is the terrible charge against you. Your explanation about the book is plausible enough. But the pin, the pin ?" "I am sorry not to be able to assist you in your instigation. I have told you all I know. I found it in a portmanteau which contained a lot of old things." I was not brought up before the magistrate again until after several days. In the meanwhile mischief had been at work. The English and American newspaper correspondents had got hold of the story of my arrest, and of the odious crime of which I had been accused. The most sensational reports had been printed, and as I afterwara learned, my portrait had been given in several journals in London and New York. It was stated, what was perfectly true, that I had been in very needy circumstances in Paris and had done a variety of things , to earn a living. The fact of my having been at Senlis on the night of the murder, and of the scarf-pin and book having been found in iry possession, were Eut into such prominence that I do not elieve a doubt existed as to my culpability in the mind of any English or American reader of my case. Some imaginative "specials" went so far as to state that I had confessed, and had attempted suicide. On the other hand, ray numerous enemies and rivals could not refrain from pointing out with what marvelous, with "what very marvelous," rapidity I had achieved success in a career in which success comes but to the very few, without reflecting how much in this career, as in every other, depends on good luck'. And, after all, my position was not such a very brilliant one. I know several chefs who would turn' up their no.sea at my income, and, as to fame, the name of the smallest manufacturer of patent medicines in England is twenty times better known than mine. On my third visit the magistrate received me with much greater courtesy than before. He said: "I have examined your statements and find you have spoken the truth. The official record of the Mont-de-Piete makes mention of your having pawned your watch. The hotel-keeper of the Quai des Grands-Augu-tins remembers you as a quiet and industrious young man; and, finally, one of my agents has succeeded in discovering the bookseller who sold you the 'Memoirs of Abbe de Croisy.' This person remembered the circumstance all the more distinctly that he had discovered, almost immediately after he had disposed of the book to you, what a treasure he had left slip out of his hands. He said he hoped you had got into trouble, as you must bo a bad character to have paid 2 francs for a book worfh 500 francs. Tho only circumstance now against you is that of the possession of the pin." "And that, I am sorry to say,- I cannot explain. I can positively not remember how I got it, nor can I imagine how and when it got into my trunk." "On the other hand," continued the magistrate benevolently, our inquiries in London have produced satisfactory results, as far as your character is concerned. You are honorably connected, and appear to have been industrious and upright. If only you could explain that one obscure point, I could proclaim you innocent. Nay, do not start you will be set free in any case, but unforiunately only under an order of non lieu, or nolle prosequi, which is equivalent to a Scotch verdict of 'not proven.' It is regretable you have such a bad memory." The same evening, after various formalities, I had what the newspapers called "the extraordinary good fortune" to be set free. I returned forthwith to London, besieged all the way by the enterprising gentlemen of the press, and went straight to the house where my financee lived. I was received by her father, who said that under the circumstances he Ould not think of letting me marry bis daughter until I had completely vindicated my character. I turned on my heel, indignant at this injustice, and wrote to Clara; but the young lady left my letters unanswered, and when I called to see her, during the absence of her father in the city, she refused to receive me. Apart from this, my sudden notoriety did me more good than I could have hoped for from years of industry and success. I have on my table now before me seventeen letters from hitherto obdurate publishers, ottering me my own price for any MSS., I may have in my drawer, forty letters from newspaper editors, inviting the contribution of my experiences in the French prison, as many letters and telegrams from lecture-agents, and two requests from theatrical managers, who want me to turn my trivial adventure into a five-act drama and a three-act comedy, not to speak of hundreds of letters of sympathy or abuse from all parts of the country. What a commercial age is the one in which we are living, that I find myself congratulating myself on having had my name so splendidly advertised for nothing. I am advised to make hay while the sun shines, and I may add that I have made a good deal of hay already. It was only three days ago that some solution of the mystery of the amber pin presented itself to my mind. I was in Berlin, and was walking down the Behrenstrasse, when I passed a man whose face I seemed to remember, without being able at all to recall when and where I had seen it for the first time. Suddenly, and I should be puzzled to say bv what inspiration, I turned round and called out "Iii Pierre, Pierre Bastide 1" The man stopped aa if etruck from behind, and looked round at me ; the face was very pale, and he was trembling in every part of his body. After a second's hesitation he started off running like a madman, as if his object were to put as large a distance as possible between us two. He was not, however, destined to run far, for, in dashing across the Frederichstrasse, his haste was so blind that he did not notice the close approach of a heavy omnibus. From where I stood I could see his peril and dashed forward inst'netively to help him. The same moment I heard a cry, and then the man went down under the horses' feet, and the great wheels rolled over his body and crushed the life out of him. He presented 6uch a horrible spectacle when he was lifted up by the crowd which had collected that I could not stay to satisfy my curiosity at the cost of my feelings. The next morning I react in the Tageblatt that the person who had been run over in tin Friedrichstrasse was a Frenchman who had been a resident in Berlin for several years, where he had acted aa valet de chambre in several houses, passing under the name of Mictael Doriat; Immediately after this accident he had been carried to the hospital where he had died in the evening. Before dying he had

been able to state that his real name was Pierre Bastide, adding that he wished to make confession of some crime to the proper authorities. Before these, however, could attend the man had died. Among other houses where this valet had served was mentioned that of a certain Dr. II , where he had stayed three years. "Doctor II !" I cried, jumping to my feet; "but I know that bouse. 1 dined there five years ago when I was over in Berlin as correspondent to the . Let me think. Ah! I have it now." I had brought an introduction to Doctor H from a mutual friend in London, and, not having been able to see him on the day I called, left it with my card. The next morning I received a telegram from the hospital doctor, inviting me to lunch at his house that day. The telegram found me in bed, and it was then only twenty minutes of the hour fixed for the lunch. I jumped out of bed, dressed in haste, and drove off to the doctor's house. As I was giving my hat and coat to the valet in the ante-chamber I noticed that the man was staring at me in a curious way. "What are you staring at mo like that for?" I cried rather irritably. "I beg monsieur's pardon," said the valet, with all the politeness of his countrymen, "but if monsieur will look in the glass." "Dear, dear," I cried when I had examined myself, "I was in such a hurry. I have forgotten my cravat. What hall I do? I say, my good fellow," this to the valet, as I handed him a thaler, "you must have plenty of ties to spare; run and get me one out of your room. Anything will do, as long as it looks tidy." The valet hastened off, and presently came back with a black tie a ready-made sailors'-knot, very stiff and large. I put i on hastily, and, giving the man another piece of money, asked him if I might keep it to go home in. "Oh, certainly," he said. "Monsieur has given me its value twice over." Having a repulsion for other people's wearing apparel, I had taken the tie off as soon as I reached my hotel, and had flung it into my portmanteau. It was the same portmanteau in which several years later I had found the scarf-pin which had got me into so much trouble. I imagine that the pin had slipped down between the cardboard framework of the tie and its silk cover, and that Bastide had thought it lost when he gave me his black sailor's knot. In Hinging it into my trunk the pin must have fallen out, to remain undisturbed until that unlucky day. Unlucky? Well, yes, inasmuch as what ensued brought about this cruel separa tion between Clara and myself. Perhaps, though, a girl who could cast off a loer as devoted as I was on such a suspicion is not worth troubling about, and, if I have here cleared up the mystery of the amber pin, it is only beoause'l imagine the story to have some little interest, and by no means in order to vindicate myself in the eyes of Clara or ot her father. All the same but there, enough. TWO TALES FROM DIXIE.

Senator Blnckhnrn a Born Orator CoL Starbottle In a Scrape. Here are two southern stories that ars worth remembering, albeit they are not particularly new, writes Eugene FieM in the Chicago Aiev. One Kentucky gentleman meets another Kentucky gentleman, and they address one another with that solemn earnestness which is characteristic of southern hi?h life: "Good mohning, sah? Hope you are well, sah? Whar have you been this mohning?" "I have just come f'ora the coat-house, sah. Sen'toh Blackbuhn has been making a speech the finest speech I have heard since the wah. lie is a bawn awter, sah a bawn awter!" "Excuse me, sah; but what do you mean by 'a bawn awter?' " "A bawn awter? Don't you know what a bawn awter is? Why, sah, you and I would E.ay: 'Two and two make fo',' but a bawn awter wouldn't say that; a bawn awter would say: 'When in the coase of human events, it becomes nec'sa' or expedient to coalesce two integers and two other integers, the result I declare it boldly, aud without fea or f avail the result, by a simple arithmetical caculation, termed addition, is fo'!' That's a bawn awter, sah." "Vou have no idea, sah, what a demawlized condition we all were in after the wah! Fuhst thing they did, sah, was to send a Yankee tlown hyah to be poas'master. One morning Col. Starbottle, perfect gentleman, sah membah of one of the fuhst families Col. Starbottle went into the poas'offiee and handed in three letters at the window, saying: 'Mr. Poas'master, sah, I'll trouble you to put three stamps on those letters and charge the same to Col. Starbottle.' Now, what do reckon that Yankee poas'master did? He says, 'Col. Starbottle, sah, we don't do business that way, sah,' and he pushed the letters back back, sah, under Col. Starbottle's nose! What did Col. Starbottle do? What could he do? Why, sah, he drew his pistol like a gentlemen and 6hot that Yankee poas'master shot him dead. Now to show you how demawlized our institutions were: Do you know, sah, that on account of that personal a'lair we all had the est time keeping Col. Starbottle from becoming involved in litigation?" CONSTERNATION IN CHURCH. A Pastor Reads an Old Notice That Creates a Commotion. Boston Transcript.) A story that goes back to the meeting-house in W rentham is one of a worthy man named Habbakuk P , a resident of the town, and a faithful attendant upon worship, who had been blessed with four wives, one atter another. Habbakuk was rigidly orthodox, as his name seemed to demand, and was always in his pew on the Sabbath. He sat there in his conspicuous pew, with No. 4 by his side, on the first Sunday morning after their marriage. It was a balmy June day. and the zephyrs from the open window toyed playfully with the bride s white satin bonnet ribbons and the groom's silken locks. There was a stranger in the pulpit who had exchanged for the day with the venerable Mr. F , the pastor of the church. After reading a few scripture passages the stranger proceeded to read a notice which he had found in the Bible, which was as follows: "Mr. Habbakuk P desires the prayers of the congregation that the death of his wife may be sanctified to him for his spiritual good." Then, when the congregation was between etupefication and explosion, the clergyman went on with the services at a rapid rate. He was at a loss to know why the congregation seemed to be, throughout the remainder of the services, on the point of laughter, but at dinner Mrs. F , the pastor's wife, explained to him that Habbakuk P sat three rows from the front in the broad aisle with his brand-new wife, and he had read an old notice that Mr. F had been using as a book mark ever since the death of wife No. 3. Two Lore. O, Love, thou art lovely when thy tender glance meets The yearning and wistful face turned to thee. Oh, Lore, thourt heavenly when thy loving smile greets The simple, earnest effort to woo thee. O, Lore, thou art cruel when the heart yon would spurn That bows down low in worship at thy shrine. O, Love, thourt so bitter when thy haughty glanoe burns Into the hart that ii breaking for thine. Indianapolis, March 2& E. PcHCELL. Elected the Democratic Ticket. SraiXGFiELD, 111., April 2. The democrats of this city to-day elected their candidate for mayor, 'the Hon. Charles E. Hay. and the whole city ticket. They also elected their candidate for county clerk to fill vacancies and a majority of the board of Supervisors.

U HONOR OF JEFFERSON

A RIGHT ROYAL FEAST WAS SPREAD. Fourth Annual Banquet of the Springfield (O.) Jefferson Club Th Ron. Hoger Q, Mill of Texas t'retent A Toatt to the Indiana Democracy. Speixgfield, O., April 2. Special. The Jefferson club last night held its fourth annual banquet and celebrated the anniversary of the birth of Thomas Jetlerson with great eclat and splendor. The banquet was held in the Lagonda house and was characterized by a quiet and sumptuous elegance. Fully eight hundred people were present. The democrats had just achieved a great victory here by electing,with a handsome majority, a mayor, the first one in many years. The prebence of the Hon. Hoger Q.Mills of Texas, author of the famous Mills bill, made the affair of national importance and brought distinguished men from all over the state and newspaper men from a distance. The banquet waa begun at 10 o'clock by a few appropriate remarks by the Hon. W. S. Thomas, president of the club. An elegant and varied menu was served. The Hon. S. S. Yoder of Lima responded to the toast, "Thomas Jeflerson," and paid a glowing tribute to the great democrat. The toast, "now Can We Honor the Memory of Jefferson?" was responded to in an eloquent manner by the Hon. J. T. Brooks of falem. The Hon. A. W. Thurman of Columbus, son of the "Old Iloman," spoke briePy on self-government and did it in a manner that was a credit to a "chip of the old block." The Hon. Hoger Q. Mills, amid vociferous applause, arose in response to the toast, "Tariff Reform." lie thought that tariif reform was bound, ultimately, to win, and said it was the pre-eminent issue to-day. He was of the opinion that nothing would be done soon because both branches of congress are republican. The present senate bill, he said, aimed at an Increase rather than a reduction, and that would be its end in case it ever passed. Mr. Mills is en route to his home and stopped here by special request. While here he met Gen. Keiler, the Hon. John II. Thomas and others. fhe toast, 'The Indiana Democracy," was responded to by Mr. S. E. Mors, editor of THE Isdiaxapolis Sentinel. He spote as follows: Mr. Presiient, Ladies and Gentlemen There is one thine I particularly admire about the democratic jiarty. It never knows when it is whipped. e have all heard how, in the winter of 1872-3, just after the overwhelming defeat of Greeley and Drown, when the grand old party of the constitution had reached the lowest stage in its fortunes, a number of discouraged democrats gathered in a modest K brary at Columbus to consider what was bes-t to be done. Their host was none other than Allen G. Thurman.'the greatest among the many great men whom this splendid commonwealth of Ohio has given to the nation and to history. It was to this great man the "noblest lioman of them all" that these disheartened democrats turned for counsd and advice and assistance in what they conceived to be the supreme crisis in the fortunes of their party and his. They feared, indeed, that the end had come; that the party had received its deathMow; and they had sought Allen Granberry Thurman with a view to getting his co-operation in the formation of a new orgnni.ration on new lines, which should take the place of the old party. "Gentlemen," said the old Roman, after listening with some degree of impatience to what they had to say "Gentlemen, this room isn't big enough to break up the democratic party in." The conference ended abruptly; Senator Thurman's guests returned to their homes wiser democrats and better democrats than when they came, and the issue of letters of administration upon the democratic estate was indefinitely postponed. This was seventeen years ago, Mr. Chairman, and we may rejoice to-night that no room has even yet been found big enough to break up the democratic party in. No newspaper has oeen found, even in Ohio, big enough to break up the democratic party. The money power of the country has not proved strong enough to breakup the democratic party. It is to-day a greater, a stronger, a better, a wiser party, more necessary to the security of our institutions and the protection of our people against the encroachments of monopoly and privilege, and better entitled to the confidence of the country, than at any previous moment in its long history. It is the indomitable spirit which inspired Allen G. Thurman in those dark days of 1872,that has kept the democratic party alive during the years that have intervened; which has enabled it to riße above the reverses and disasters that have overtaken it from time to time, and which has made it, whether in opposition or in power, the most effective instrumentality of good government that any country or any age has known. Only two years after the incident just related the democratic party obtained control of the national house of representatives, which it has retained, with a brief interval, ever since. Only four years later it elected those great statesmen, Samuel J. Tilden of Nework and Thomas A. Hendricks of Indiana president and vice-president of the United States, and eight years thereafter it elected another noble son of the Empire state, Grover Cleveland, to the presidency, and to the second place in the government it elevated Mr. Hendricks. To-day, although by methods as foul as the principles they were employed to promote are odious, the democratic party has been deprived of the administration ot the government, we have the proud satisfaction of knowing that the grandest campaign it ever made resulted in the casting of a popular vote for its distinguished standard-bearers, Grover Cleveland and Allen G. Thurman, more than one hundred thousand greater than was given to their competitors. The party of monopoly has secured the presidency aud the control of both houses of congress; but the democratic party is to-day, in a larger sense than ever before, the party of the people; the national party as distinguished from the sectional party; the party of the masses as distinguished from the party of the classes; the party of the millions as distinguished from the party of the millionaires; the party of the workingmen as distinguished from the party of the stock jobbers and the plutocrats. Mr. Chairman, but for the fact that the democratic party never did know when it was whipped, it would be, if you will pardon the expression, 'in the soup" to-day or words to that effect. But it is not there not by a large majority a hundred thousand at least. And I want to say, as far as we Indiana democrats are concerned, that while we may have been whipped we don't feel as people are supposed to feel who have been whipped. We are as enthusiastic, as earnest, as united, as aggressive and as confident of the early and complete triumph of our great cause as we ever were. The enemy, to be sure, have the offices and much good may they do them. We are accustomed to getting along without them, and dqn't mind their loss. We look back upon the recent campaign with the most profound satisfaction. Jt was a grand battle for principle; for a principle which is dear to the heart of every sincere disciple of Thomas Jefferson, and which must prevail in the near future if republican institutions are to endure. It is a principle which lies at the very basis of free government the principle that the taxing rower must only be used for public purposes, n boldly asserting that principle we challenged the organized greed, and selfishness, and ienorance, and prejudice, and superstition of the United States, and the wonder is, not that we were overcome, but that we were not overwhelmed. Over in Indiana we have inscribed that principle upon our flag and are going to keep it there in sunshine or jn storm, in victory or in defeat, in power or in opposition. We do not intend to retreat a single step from the position taken in the 8t. Louis platform, and the last two messages of President Cleveland. We are going forward, not backward. We did not enlist in the ninety days' service against the legions of monopoly and privilege, but for the war. We shall carry inaiana in if.'u, ana again in ism. ; Our democratic legislature, which has just adjourned. has made a law which will prevent Mr. Dudley and his trusted men from repeat- ' ing the crimes of 1S80 and of 1S&3; and with t

honest elections we have no fears of the revolt in Indiana. The democracy of Indiana, we think, is fortu nate in the character of its leaders. They are all democrats; men who have the courage of their convictions; men who believe that for us the highest expediency and the wisest politics consist in the dosest possible adherence to Jetl'ersoniau ideals of covernment and the strictest devotion to the historical tenets of the democratic party. The Nestor of our party is that brainy and honest and courageous old man, Joseph E. McDonald. Then there is the tall sycamore or the Wabash, the eloquent, aggressive and fearless Daniel W. Yoorhees. We have Isaac P. Gray a clearbeaded, sagacious and skillful captain. We have David Turpie, as learned as he is modest, and as true a democrat as can be found in all this republic We have William D. Bynuin, one of the rising young men of this country. Keep your eye on him. He is coming to the front; he is there now; and the first thing you know yo will be calling him "Speaker Uynum." We have William S. nolman, the Veteran watch-dog of the treasury, who has saved the tax-payers of this country tens-ol-millions of dollars by his resolute opposition to jobbery and corruption in every form. We have Courtland C. Matson, who made such a gallant race for governor last year, and we have several others of whom we expect great things. Are we not well equipped with leaders? And if the national democracy should happen to demand one of them in for its own use, could we I put it to you, Mr. Chairmau, as an Ohio man could we, with any decency, refuse to make the sacrifice? We Indmua democrats, Mr. Chairman, ara democrats from conviction. We would rather have our perty out of power for a generation to come, than that it should surrender one iota of the vite' principles for which it did tucb, valiant battle in the last campaign. We were never so proud of our party as we are to-day. 'e believe that under the leadership of Grover Cleveland the best traditions of the party have been revived; traditions which are associated with the honored memory of its great founder, Thomas Jeuerson, the illustrious philosopher, statesman aud patriot the anuiversary of whose birth we an celebrating to-night; which rec.ill the historic names of Jame Madison, the father of the constitution, and James Monroe, who fin"t served notice upon the monarchs of I'urope that they must keep hands off the American continent; of Andrew Jackson, that democrat of democrats, who hated monopoly as he hated treason, and dealt blows at both which will cause his name to be remembered w hen even his military achievements have been forgotten; of James k. Polk, whose administration added an empire to our national territory and gave the country revenue tariff under which it prospered as it had never prospered beiore and has never prospered since; of Stephen A. Douglas, in whose public career the principles of genuine) democracy were so splendidly exemplified ; of Samuel J. Tiiden, that great master of the science of government that matchless leader of men, who, in 1874, recalled his party from the worship of false gods and cave it au isne which appealed with irresistible force to the democratic instincts of the nation, and an in spiration which animates it to this day; of Horatio Seymour, the pure, hitrh-tnin Jed paU ,-iot and statesman ; of Y infield .cott Hancock, not less superb when proclaiming in Louisiana the supremacy of the civil over the military authority man when earning deathless renown by his deeds of heroism and valor on the bloody field of Gettysburg; and of Thomaa A. Hendricks, the scholar, the gentleman, the wise leader, the steadfast champion of constitutional liberty, whose memory every Indiana democrat cherishes with tenderness and pride. YV e of Indiana look to the future with entire confidence. Our faces are turned toward the morning. We know we are right; and that "thrice armed is he who has hi quarrel just." We have an abiding faith in the iatelligence, the conscience and the patriotism cf the American people. Upon the supreme issue a majority ot our countrymen are democrats to-day. Let this ifsue be clearly and sharply presented to the country during the next four years, day after day and week after week; in season and ont of season; and Indiana will not be the only westerr stat whose electoral vote will be given to the democratic national ticket in ISM. The tariff and bounty pampered rings which are rejoicing so loudly over the four years' extension they have just bought of their license to plunder honest industry of its earnings would better make the most of their opportunities during these four years. Eighteen hundred and ninety-two will soon be here; and it will bring, we firmly believe, a period to their oppression, and relief to the American people. The remainder of the toasta were: "The Constitution of the Uuited States," the Hon. E. W. Houk of Dayton; "The Young Demo racy," the Hon. E. W. Heistey of Cleveland; "A Man's Riirht to Freely Exchange His Labor," the Hon. J. Q. Smith of Oakland; "The National Democracy," the Hon. C. W. Baker, Cincinnati; "Our Countrv," the Hon. A. R. Bulin, Circleville; "The Future of the Democracy," the Hon. I T. Neal, Chillicothi; "How Can We Elevate the Tone of Politics to the High Standard of the Past," the Hon. E. J. Blandin, Cleveland; "The Democratic Idea of Government." the Hon. J. A. McMahon. Dayton; "The Republican Party," the Hon. George A. Converse, Columbus. It was 1:30 a. m. when the affair ended.

DUDLEY'S LUSCIOUS PLUM. The Back Stairw ay Konte to a First Claes Consulship. Washington Special. A well authenticated report is being circa lated that W. W. Dudley of Indiana is to be rewarded for the efiective service he rendered Mr. Harrison in the Iloosier state with an appointment as consul to Liverpool. Persous who ought to know say that a final decision was reached last Saturday, but that the president deferred making the appointment publio uutil after the adjournment ot the senate, fearing no doubt that if he sprung jhe norainatioa during the present session it would be overwhelmingly sat upon when it came up for confirmation. By waiting until alter the session ia over Dudley can be sent abroad without being voted on, and even though the senate reject him when it comes together again he will have had a profitable season in England and a delightful vacation at the expense of the government. Next to London, where his frieni John C. New goes as consul-general, he will have the best paying consulship that is at the disposal of the president, for the fees amount to from $20,kj0 to $J,3,00U a year. In a money way it is a much more desirable place than the one Mr. Lincoln gets, as the income is larger and the expense of living comparatively nominaL The report that Dudley is to get such a lucious plum excites a good deal of comment from those who know what a close call he had to being indicted by the U. S. grand jury for his 6hare in the "blocks-of-five" business. CRUCIFIED THEIR CHILD. Terrible Tale of Religloua Fanaticism Aa Kightren-Months'-Old Babe Sacrificed. ST. LoriS, April 3. A terrible tale of religious fanaticism comes from southeast Missouri. Monroe Lasseter and wife, an ignorant pair living in Wayne township, Bollinger county, m remote part of the southeast section of the state, have been laboring for some time under the form of religiojs excitement peculiar to the so-called "Sanctified" sect. A few days ago they claimed to receive a direct revelation from God to kill their eighteen-months-old girl baby, for their own redemption and that of the world. After certain ceremonies had been gone through with the old man told his wife to act as crucifier. She took the child in her arms and VrS9ed her to death, after which they nailed the dead child to a tree. They were arrested Saturday and jailed at Marble Hill. They had their examimition to-day and were held for murder, without bail. Their incoherent statements lead many to believe the guilty pair insane. The Women Toted and Qnarreled. Leavenwoeth, Kas., April 3. The contest for the mayoralty here lay between Dr. Anthony (rep) and L. M. Hacker (dem). Susan B. Anthony, sister of the republican candidate, worked heroically for him, but Hacker was elected by about 2,'X majority. . Nearly 4.00Q women voted during day, most of them casting their ballots for iikoker. A man waa stabbed at one of the preciucts and two women at another ward became involved ia a wordy war.