Jasper County Democrat, Volume 1, Number 19, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 20 August 1898 — Page 7

TANGLED SKEIN

MRS. ALEXANDER

CHAPTER XXIII. Standish found when he reached his looms the next afternon among the notes and letters which had come since he started in the moraine, on unusually thick envelope, directed in Callander’s handwriting. | This changed his plans. It would be folish to start before reading wb|t Callander had to say and doing so would compel him to lose the train. He opened the letter, glanced at it, find ringing for the man who waited on ttm, hastily directed that no visitor should be admitted. Then, drawing his chair near the window, he began, with interest which deepened at every word, to read the long epistle addressed to him. “I have been going to write to you, Standish, ever since Dorothy proved to me how greatly I have wronged you in my mind. I have begun once or twice, but, somehow, my brain would not keep dear or steady. There is such a cloud troubling and confusing me; but last night, as I lay awake, battling with my thoughts as usual, something seemed to break away in heart or head, and light came to me. “I don*t think I am mad, but I am not what I used to be, and there is a strange spirit—not my own—urging me at times, with a force I cannot resist, to do many things. Ever since Dorothy showed me the truth, I have wanted to tell you everything, for you loved her, not as I thought, but as a true elder brother, and you wig understand me—perhaps you will help me., ’’When she left me in India it was a rueful day. Then I was ill; after, I recovered. Her letters were not the same; they were cold, constrained. How I grew, with an agonized longing to see her again, to hold her in my arms! My mother wrote often. She did not like you < Ido not know why, but she did not She was always repeating how pay darling and Dorothy preferred being with" yon to anyone else, even to Egerton, who was so superior. It was a long time before she roused the devil within me, but she did at last. Then I came home. “It is a long, weary tale; it seems to me that I am writing of another, and I pity him profoundly, as I should never pity myself. My hatred of you grew deep and cunning; there was no base, cowardly act I would not have done, could I have tortured you without bringing disgrace on my own name. But all through my curious, agonizing mental struggles, I remembered that my name belonged to my children.

“Brooding, haunted by a hideous vision of being compelled for my honor’s sake to put away my wife, to drag her through the mire and filth of legal proceedings, of the opprobrium of society, of moral annihilation; something whispered to me, ■have the courage to save her from all this —let the icy hand of death send her unsullied to a better world, where the Allseeing alone can judge her.’ The idea would not, did not, leave me! It had an extraordinary fascination for me; even now, though I know my suspicions were wrong, I believe I did my best for her under the circumstances. “It was not murder, no—lt was the act of tenderest love. I wanted no revenge on her—l only wanted to save her from shame and bitterest grief. I resolved to send my beautiful Mabel to heaven, even while I affronted hell for her sake. My logic is sound, Standish, is it not? She would have gone hence blameless! From me an inexorable judge would have demanded the price of her blood, and for her sake I am contented to pay it! “This idea fascinated me. I had, from the fear of doing dearest one harm in some ungovernable fit of despair, remained in my own room, on the plea of indifferent health, and there I thought out my plan. One night, just after yon had gone, I had put on my smoking jacket and sat down to think, but I could not smoke, my mind was a sort of fiery mist, all the past unrolled itself, the happy hours, the sweetness and purity of my darling; should I allow ahame to touch her? A voice said to me, *the hour has come, let it not pass.’ I rose up, and took a long keen knife, which Egerton had given me as a curiosity; it was fine and sharp. I went softly but boldly to her room. I did not fear to meet anyone. I was not overstepping my right. The door opened without noise. “Now, I have nearly told you everything, Standish. My brain is growing dull and dreamy. I have always wondered why Egerton shrank from me. Dorothy has explained why* She has restored my faith in yon. When I knew the truth it made me pitiless. The irreparable evil wrought by mother Infuriated me. I rushed to her and told her that, thanks to her cruel tongue, her son was what she would call a murderer. I wonder it did not kill her! My sufferings have been great, though I have had long spells of torpidity. Since I came down to Fordsea i have been conscious of an awful, Irresistible weariness of life. Like the unhappy Moor, whose story is so like my 1 own, ‘My occupation’s o’er’—no, not yet! I must settle my account with Egerton. I cannot rest till that is finished.” Standish was very white and his teeth were set when he laid down the last sheet of this long, sad, startling letter. It was too true, then. Dillon’s clever disentangling of the puzzle! What a terrible tragedy, this destruction of two lives! His generous heart ached for the ruin, the injustice, wrought by a spiteful tongue, by the selfish recklessness of a man too absorbed in a guilty passion to hesitate at the sacrifice of friendship, honor, loyalty ♦or even the happiness of the woman he professed to love. It was brutal, insatiate, but Standish had no time to think of Egerton now. QaL lander’s case was a serious one. He must not be suspected; the terrible truth must not leak out For the unfortunate criminal himself Standish felt the most profound pity. He could not look on him as

responsible. Disease was fast gaining upon hint but a jury would probably take a very different view of his condition. Come what might, he must be shielded from the consequences of his desperate deed. “I waste time pondering here when I ought to act,” be exclaimed, and, taking Callander’s long confession, he inclosed it in a fresh, strong envelope, sealed it, and, writing on it his own name, he added: “To be destroyed in case of my death.** Then, with a heavy heart, he put a change of raiment into his bag, apd, having snatched a hasty meal, drove to Waterloo Station. He was rather too soon for the eigbt-tMrty train to East port, so he sat in the corner of the waiting room, his lege stretched out, his hands deep in his pockets and his traveling cap over his eyes. It was past eleven when Standish reached the Well-known Pier Hotel at Fordsea. Col. Callander, the waiter said, had gone to his room some time before. So Standish would not hear of disturbing him. “1 can see him to-morrow morning,” he said. “At what hour does Col. CaUandef breakfMt?” "Nine sharp, sir. He goes out to boat or bathe very early, and comes in about eight-thirty—to-night he ordered fish and kidneys, for breakfast, as jge seemed to expect you might come, sir. “Oh, very well —give me some brandy and soda and I will go to bed, too.” It was some time before Standish could sleep—when he did, fye slept heavily. When he awoke the sun was high in the heavens, and sparkling brightly on the rippling waters of the bay. When dressed and ready it was nearly half-past eight, and taking his hat he sallied forth—thinking it might be less oppressive to meet Callander first in the open air. As he strolled slowly toward the hut where Old Jack, the boatman, sheltered himself among his boats, drawn up beside It—every step recalled the happy hours eh had spent on the beach with Mabel and Dorothy, the previous autumn. Standish found Old Jack seated in the stern of one of his boats, smoking a very black pipe, and looking out so earnestly toward the east headland that he did not hear the approaching step. “Good morning, Jack.” “Eh? Mr. Standish! mornin’, sir—haven’t seen you down here this many a day, sir!” “No, I’ve been too busy to take a holiday." “Not much of a holiday for you to come down here, sir!” said the rugged old salt with feeling. “That’s true!” There was a pausethen Standish asked. “Has the Colonel gone out to bathe to-day?” “Yes, sir! He goes a fishing ongbathing every morning when he is down—sometimes I go with him; but, bless your ’art, sir, he never catches nothing! Forgets he’s holding the lines most of the time! He ought to be coming in about now,” putting a battered glass to his eye; “I see no sign of him yet; When he gets the oars in his hands, he rows sharp enough. You sit down a bit, sir—he’ll aot be long—he went away tow’st the Head, where the ladies*used to like to row in the morning lest autumn! Ah, well!— the ways of Providence are past our knowledge!” With a sigh and a wise shake of the head, Old Jack resumed his pipe.

CHAPTER XXIV. Standish accepted the old man's invitation, and, lighting a cigar, took his seat beside him. A long spell of silence ensued. Time went very slowly, and Standish was quite surprised when half-past nine chimed from the clock of the old town church. “I thought it must be ten at least,” exclaimed he impatiently. “it’s pact his usual time,” said Jack, putting up his battered glass agaip. “He went only for a dip,” he said. “If it’s your will, sir, I’ll just pull out to look for him if we see no sign of him in ten minutes.” “Do,” said Standish eagerly, “and I’ll come with you. You may have a long pull.” Standing up, old Jack Goold shouted long and loud the name of the boat taken out by Col. Callander that moralng, “Lively Peggy, ahoy!” In vain; there was not even an echo to reply. Then he returned to his oar, saying simply, “Let’s make straight for the Head.” So they rowed on and on, and round and about, but no trace of the Lively Peggy nor her oarsman was to be seen. Never did Standish lose the profound impression of that weary row, the sickening fear which grew upon him, the hopelessness and sinking of the heart. At lost Jack Goold said sullenly and hoarsely, “We’d best get back, sir. I ion’t see how we can do any good. We’d best speak this tug I see coming along on onr tack. If you promise something of a reward, they’ll keep a lookout. There’s no knowing where the boat’s drifted.” “The boat, man!” cried Standish, in much agitation. “You don’t mean to say you do not think Col. Callander is in her?” "I don’t mean nothing, Mr. Standish; only it looks baddigh seeibg no sign of w* > The old man presently hailed the tug, which ran down to them. Standish clambered on board; but the old boatman thought it better to return to Ms station, in case they had, by any accident, missed the object of their search, hoping to find Ms boat and its occupant alike beached and safe. - If would take much time and space to describe the growing fears with which Standish paced the tug’s dirty deck, or stood eagerly scsjding the face\of the waters, as they steamed slowly to and fro. ▲t length the skipper remarked that If

they stayed thereabouts till night they would find nothing, adding, not without feeling, that he would not give much for the gentleman's chances if some craft Had not picked him up before this. Standish agreed with him, and the master, bringing his vessel to as near the Head as he could safely go, sent his passenger ashore in one of the tug’s boats. The spot he landed on was a small rocky projection, not far from a stretch of fine sand which filled a slight indentation of the shore, where Standish had often found Dorothy, with Nurse and the children, bunting for shells and seaweed. A long walk, however, was before hfon, and bis mind was too profoundly disturbed to allow of tender memories. Be pressed on at a good pace, thinking hard what was best to be done if Callander had disappeared, or if he returned alive. Both contingencies had their difficulties. It was a long, painful progress. .Nearing the common, he diverged from his direct road to pass Jack Goo Id’s hut The old man was on the lookout and, perceiving his approach, came rapidly to meet him. “What news?” shouted Standish, before they were within speaking distance. Jack shook his head, and as soon as they stood face to face said, in a low voice, “Bad—couldn’t be worse. A chap has just come down to tell me that my boat has been picked up by the fishing smack Mary Jane, with the Colonel’s clothes, his watch and chain and purse. The poor gentleman is lost, that’s plain enough. Likely got cramp and went down for he was a strong swimmer.” ■ Standish stood still and silent. Was this the end of the story—the last act of a pitiful tragedy to which two innocent sufferers had been driven by hlind fate? “I suppose it is foliy to hope?’ he forced himself to say at last “Ay’ no good at all, sir. I don’t see as there is a spark of hope, nohow!” As there was no more to be done at present, Standish, though greatly shaken, was obliged to think of bis own duties, public and private. His temporary leave wa9 nearly expired, and his chief had shown him so much consideration, that he was anxious not to outstay it Then no one save himself must break the sad news to Dorothy. How would she bear thl< jast blowj , . •-■ ' He therefore telegraphed to Col. Gallander’s solicitor to come down himself, or send some capable employe to be on the spot, should action of any kind prove necessary, adding that he would wait his arjjval. A reply wire soon reached him, to the effect that Mr. Brierly himself would come down by the 3:10 train. Standish was thus enabled to confer with the greatly distressed lawyer (who was also a personal friend of Callander’s) before he started for town. It was nearly nine o’clock when he reached his rooms, and he debated with himself whether he should attempt to see Dorothy that night or no. “No,” was his conclusion; “she shall have this night, at least, undisturbed.” Indeed, after the tremendous strain of that trying day, he felt quite unequal to meet her. Before tasting food he penned a few lines to Henrietta, which he marked private, saying that he would be with her immediately aftft breakfast next day, and entreating her to keep all newspapers from Dorothy till after be had seen her. Then he rang for the man of the house who usually waited on him, and ordered him to deliver the note at once. “Very well, sir,” replied the man; “and I beg to say Mr. Egerton called this afternoon. He said, as he could not find you at the club, he came on here. He seemed surprised to hear you had gone down to Fordsea, sir.” "Mr. Egerton?’ repeated Standish, his brow contracting; there was another task. “I shall probably meet him to-morrow.” “Any answer to these, sir?” taking the notes. “No—none.” The man left the room, but returned almost immediately. “Mr. Egerton is below, sir. Shall I show him up?” “Yes; show him up,” said Standish, sudden vigor and fire replacing his exhaustion at the sound of his name. He remained standing, and the next moment Egerton entered. (To be continued.)

VETERAN AMONG BRIDGES.

Its Peculiarities of Construction Make It a Great Curiosity. The triangular bridge at Croyland, In Lincolnshire, Is proWhbly not only the most ancient bridge in England, but, on account of Its peculiar construction, one of the greatest curiosities in-Europe. It is built in the middle of the town at the confluence of the Welland and the Nene. The plan of the bridge Is formed by three squares and an equilateral triangle, about which they are placed. It has three fronts, three thoroughfares over and three under it. There are the same number of abutments, at equal distances, from which rise three half arches, each composed of three ribs meeting in the center at the top. Seen from any point of view a pointed arch appears in front. Antiquaries—often fanciful writers—have suggested that the piece of masonry was built as an emblem of the Holy Irlnlty; for, though the bridge possesses three arches, it yet properly has but one groined arch. More mat-ter-of-fact archaeological authors hold the structure to have been designed as a startling place for measuring ecclesiastical boundaries, with the additional utility of forming a support for a market cross.

An exceptionally interesting feature of the bridge is a nauch-weather-worn effigy, traditionally said to be a representation of King Ethelbald. The rudeness of the design, the uncouthness of the headdress and drapery, lead to the conclusion of the effigy being a genuine Saxon sculpture. Placed In a sitting posture at the end of the southwest wall, the figure Is embellished with a crown. In one of Eldred’s charters the triangular bridge at Croyland was mentioned, but that now existing is supposed to from its style of architecture, of the time of Edward I. The statue must be of much greater antiquity. Croyland, ten miles tonth of'Spalding and eight and a half north of Peterborough, should greatly Interest, artists and lovers of antique associations.—Lloyd’s Newspaper.

THE FARM AND HOME

MATTERS OF INTERESTTOFARMER AND HOUSEWIFE. Early Apples Can Be Profitably Made Into Vinegar Don’t Feed Drilled Corn Too Early—When a ‘ Cow la Most Usefnl—Farm Notes. A Standard Apple Barrel. Dealers and shippers who handle a large part of the commercial apple crop are once more taking up in earnest the question of a uniform barrel. The adoption of such regular package must eventually prove a benefit to growers. It will serve to build up confidence on the part of many consumers who have been too often cheated In the Kiort-measure barrel. An announcement is being sent out from the office cf the National Apple Shippers’ Association, largely signed by dealers all over the United States, stating their requirements in this direction. This is as follows: “A large crop of apples is expected this season. To realize a fair price we will necessarily export a large amount, and as we shall have to compete with Canada, we must have good cooperage and standard barrel. The National Apple Shippers’ Association and the National League of Commission Merchants have already adopted the following dimensions: Head, 17% inchea; stave, 28% Inches between crozlns; bulge not less than G 4 inches outside circumference. The above are the measurements of the Minneapolis flour barrel. Believing it for tbe interest of the buyer, shipper and grower to bring about this much needed reform, we, the undersigned buyers and shippers, agree that we will not purchase apples packed in barrels that hold less than the above.” Orange Judd Farmer" **

Early Apples for Vinegar. Whenever there are more early apples than can profitably be sold, it is a good plan to make cider from them, to be later turned into vinegar. In hot weather, all the stages of fermentation are gone through very quickly. It cannot be kept sweet even three days with>ut beginning the alcoholic fermentation. Later in the season, fermentation goes on more slowly. But it can hg hastened by frequently changing the cidfer from one vessel to another, exposing it as much ns possible to the air while doing so. One of tbe most frequent ways is to pour the partly fermented cider through coarse shavings, taking care to use those that have no offensive odor. Most early apples are not rich in sugar. It is a good plan to add some sugar or molasses to the cider when it is put into barrels. Such cider in its alcoholic stage will be a most dangerous beverage, as the combination of malic acid am} alcohol makes tbe fighting-drunk kind of intoxication. But after it pases into the third stage, or acetuous fermentation, the more sweet has been put in the cider the sharper the vinegar will be. We have known farmers who kept a hand cider mill, in which apples were ground all through the year, making sweet cider any time they wished it by pressing through the old-fashioned cheese presses that used to be in every farmhouse.— American Cultivator.

Feeding Drilled Corn Too Early. There is a great temptation to farmers whose cows begin to fail in tbeir milk to cut sowed or drilled corn before it comes in tassel. The cows will not eat this, provided they can got enough grass, and it is poor feed at the best. It is far better if such fodder corn is given to supplement it with grain, wheat bran or meal of some kind. Drilled corn is much better than sowed corn, as the sunshine can get in between the dirll rows, which should be at least far enough apart to allow cultivation between them. Sowed corn, even after it comes in tassel, is of little good to stock. All its lower part even on rich ground will be white and have almost no nutritive value. Peae a* an Orchard Crop. One of the advantages of the pea crop In the orchard Is that the shade of the broad pea leaves protects the' soil from drying out. or from being too much compacted by rains. If left until the crop ripens, the pea grain takes from the soil phosphate and lime, but this is offset by the benefit to the soil from the available nitrogen which the pea roots are -able to store In it by decomposing air they come In contact with. The pea crop comes off early enough to let the orchard be pastured by so as to destroy fallen fruit. If only the common field pea is sown, it is as good a plan as any to Jet the poorer parts of the field be harvested by hogs. Where the peas are best podded and best filled cut them and thresh for seed. But all the poorer places let the hogs gather the whole crop. On peas and fallen apples an especially sweet and delicious pork is made. It is much better than the corn-fed pork made later in the season, when an exclusive diet of corn is given. To Save Gnawed Trees. The past two years have been the most disastrous to trees and vines, because of the mischievous rabbits, of any within our memory. Even where the trees were wrapped and cared for by the usual methods, upon looking Jhrougli the orchard the damage is appalling. Even large blackberry patches have been entirely stripped of bark as high as the rabbits could reach. To save the trees, If npticed before they are too dry, saw barrels in two, or use anything that will keep the dirt heaped high pver the gnawed bark. Or the wound may be covered with grafting wax and the dirt be then heaped over, and if not too dry they will heal up and grow If kept covered one season. We

have been successful in keeping rabbits from trees by taking freshly j killed and dressed rabbits, forelegs in one hand, hind ones In the other, and rubbing the trees from ground up as high aa they can reach. Also taking sliced apple with a little strychnine inserted In each slice and place around the treea and bushes.—Practical Farmer. Trellis for Tomatoes. While the tomato can be and often is grown with its vines lying on the ground, the fruit ripens more evenly and perfectly, besides producing a larger crop, if tbe vines are supported by a trellis of some kind. It may be nothing more than a stick forked like a “y” and with long enough stem to set firmly in the groundr But If the soil is rich and the tomato vines are heavy, a row of strong stakes with a wire wound around each at tbe height of eighteen inches will give better satisfaction. When the vines turn to grow downwards the part below will blossom and fruit more abundantly than before. The Useful Age of a Cow. Many who milk cows for profit believe that when a cow reaches the age of 7 or 8 her useful days are over, and that she should be replaced by one younger. But, other things being equal, this is a mistake. A cow that has been well cared for, with generous rations and proper attention given to her comfort, through all seasons of the year, is better and will make a more profitable return at 8 years old than at an earlier age; In other words, she is In her prime, and she wil continue In this condition several years, and will not be considered an old cow until 14 or 15 years have passed.—Southwest.

Buttermilk as a Drink. One of the most refreshing drinks for hot weather is coci buttermilk drawn Just after the cream has been churned. It is a nutritious drink, and the slight acidity which It has if made from ripened, that is, sour cream, makes It easier to digest than fresh new milk. In some cities buttermilk is kept for sale at restaurants, and there are enough city men who were brought up In the country to create a good demand for buttermilk, even thought it be not fresh from the churn. In a cool place buttermilk may be kept for four or five days. Cleaning Out Fence Rows. Since the Introduction of horso mowers and harvesting machinery, there is less care taken to keep weeds and grass out of the fence corners. It was always an ugly task to mow grass In the corners of fences, for that was the common dumping place of stones thrown out in plowing the field. Now nobody thinks of using the scythe if he has a machine. But it is a mistake not to mow the weeds and bushes that grow in fence corners, so as to prevent weeds from going to seed and the bushes from becoming an unmanageable nuisance* encroaching on the plowable land. Grass in Orchard. Grass injures an orchard by usipg plant food which should nourish the trees. It also absorbs tbe moisture in the soil. The trees are weakened by being deprived of the full benefits from the soil, while the fruit will not grow and mature qs it should. Grass also provides harboring places for mice and insects. Tbe land that both an orchard and grass is compelled to perform the work of growing two crops in one year, which will exhaust the soil unless manure or fertilizer is applied very abundantly. Don’t Hurry. There is no way to waste time like hurrying. Work should be done with due celerity; the man who starts into a day’s work in a hurry and gtts done as much as possible will be tired out before noon and will not accomplish as much os he who begins at a more ,moderate gait and keeps it up until time to quit at night. Take a good rest at noon and a nap if you can. You will do more work, and do It with more ease than you would to begin as soon as done eating. A restful noon spell invigorates Ithe body for the hot afternoon.

Individuality of Animals. The individuals in a herd or flock should be carefully studied. It is well to adhere to the rule in breeding that ‘like begets like,” but it may toe safely affirmed that no two animals are exactly alike. Even where sevnral animals may be from the same sire and dam one will excel the others in some respects. By carefully observing the habits and characteristics of the Individuals when improving the 6tock more rapid progress will be made and the desired characteristics soon secured. Fences. Of all taxes for which the farmer receives the least benefit that which he imposes upon himself is the heaviest in the fences. Fences mean the investment of capital which can be better applied in some other direction; they must be constantly repaired, and a*re costly. The only fences that should exist on a farm are those necessary to keep the stock within bounds. Fence in the stock instead of the farm. Sassafras for Chicken Lice. If you will use sassafras roost-poles you will not be troubled by lice. Cut them green, aqd leave the bark on. Renew every spring. For the fowls and nests, get the bark from sassafras root, dry, and grind to powder. Apr ply the same as Insect powder. It Is quite as effective.—Agricultural Epitomist. \ Weigh the Milk. When the milk begins to shrink there is always a cause. Go to the pasture and notice If the dry weather has not diminished the grass supply, and if so give her more food at the barn. Weigh the milk of each cow dally and keep them up to the full flow. .

RECORD OF THE WEEK

INDIANA INCIDENTS TERSELY TOLD. Death of a Marion Man Prevent* ■ His Arrest—Thirty Years* Quarrel at an End—Prehistoric Mounds Neaz Anderson Are Sold. Fonnd Dead by tbe Track. J. C. Tibbitts, a business man of Ma* rion, was found dead near the Clover Leaf Railroad track three miles north of that city by the engineer of a passing train. Tibbitts went to Van Buren theday before on business and boarded s passenger train there for Marion. After thetrain left Van Buren Samuel Levy and John R. Brown of Marion saw Tibbittsleave the car and go out on the platform,, and they stated at the inquest that they thought be appeared sick. The coroner failed to find any injuries that should have resulted fatally. It developed at the inquest that Tibbitts was an embezzler and was to have been arrested for appropriating funds of the building and loan company of which he was treasurer. He was receiver for the Marion Malleable Iron works and bad gotten into trouble over financial affairs, which had cost him every dollar he possessed. He purchased an accident policy for $3,000 before he left Marion, which was good for two days. Apology from a Deathbed. A quarrel of thirty years’ standing between Edward Green and Berry James was ended in a peculiar manner. The two men in 1868 lived as neighbors on a large tract of land in Dick Johnson township. A calf belonging to James got over the fence in Green’s corn field. Green seized the yalf and threw it over a fence, breaking its neck. This caused trouble between the two men, and James knocked Green down and tbe latter had his assailant arrested and fined. Shortly afterward Green moved to Seattle, Wash., where he resided until his death a few days ago. The day before his death he summoned his legal adviser and had him write an apology to James for killing his calf and inclosed a check for S3O, which covered the fine James paid and interest to date. Sale of Prehistoric Mounds. A deal has been closed whereby the Indian mounds pass into the hands of W. R. Covert of St. Louis for a consideration of $20,000. These prehistoric works are considered by experts from the Smithsonian institution to be the finest in the country, from a scientific standpoint. At sne time a move was on foot to convert the grounds into a national park, at another time into a State park, hut both fell through. The mounds skirt White river just east of Anderson, and the scenery along the river at that point is considered by many to be the finest in Indiana. W. R. Covert has St. Louis Capitalists associated with him. They will convert it into s big summer resort.

Old. Man Died in His Coffin. Joel English, an old resident of Kokomo, celebrated his seventy-third natal anniversary the other day by getting into a coflin and ending his life by drinking two ounces of laudanum. He drank the poison in the presence of his wife, and forbade her on penalty of death to give the alarm, he having a gun at the side of the coffin to kill the doctor if one were called. Mrs. English believed he was shamming, as he had threatened on several other occasions to commit suicide, and she did not realize his condition until too late. He bought the coffin fifteen years ago and had kept it in his bedroom ever since. Within Onr Border*. At Franklin. Kate Traub, a beautiful girl of 20, became suddenly insane and threw a lamp at her father. Her mania is religion and she sings hymns with noisy organ accompaniments. Maj. Evans, colored, who was in jail at South Bend for attempting to kill Nellie Heinkle, a white woman, because of unrequited love, was released and the couple have been married. At South Bend, Harvey Grady and Calvin Calloway, both colored, quarreled over Grady’s wife. Grady was shot through the heart and Calloway was badly injured in the head with a brick. Because his mother would not let him spend the day with his uncle, Freddie V. Chapman, aged 9 years, whose house was at Stephenport, went to the barn and hanged himself with a halter. Rev. T. H. Kuhn, pastor of Kokomo Main Street Christian Church, has resigned his charge, to take effect Sept. 1. He will probably go to Noblesville as pastor, filling the vacancy occasioned by the resignation of Rev. Conner. In a quarrel over stock trespassing near Bethlehem, Harry Forward was dangerously shot by Will Ross, who escaped. Dr. Mayfield extracted the bullet, which entered Forward’s left breast, passed down and out and lodged in his left arm. The Rev. Harry A. Slaughter, son of W. M. Slaughter of Terre Haute, will resign the pastorate of the Wyeth Park Baptist Church, St. Joseph. Mo., and will take the general agency of the Mutual Reserve Insurance Company at India mi polis.

Four small boys were drowned in the Wild Cat creek, two miles from Lafayette. Six lads, each about 9 years of ape, went into the creek to bathe. None could swim, and Sedgwick Arnold, Frank Luce and two brothers named Leiseh were drowned. The bodies, with the exception of that of Arnold, were recovered. At the March term of the Circuit Court at Brazil the estate of Sarah Hungate was settled and distributed among the lawful heirs and payments were made to all except Albert H. Hungate, who left home ago, and was supposed to be dead, as his relatives tried in vain to locate him. Consequently his share of SI,OOO was turned over to the County Clerk to eventually he added to the school fund. However, the missing Hungate surprised his friends by appearing at the clerk’s office the other day and demanding fyis money, which was promptly paid. The big wire nail trust strike at Anderson has taken a new turn. The rod mill men in aii of the institutions owned by the trust have decided to go out on a sympathetic strike with nailers and wire men, who are out now resisting a 40 per cent reduction. Hamilton Pennington of Otisco reported to the police at New Albany that his wife had eloped with Jesse Northers; a former sweetheart, who resides at West Baden. They were thought to be In that city. He complains that ilia wife took 9150 of his savings and he offers • reward of |SO for the arrest of the couples