Jasper County Democrat, Volume 1, Number 24, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 24 September 1898 — Page 7

CHAPTER X. Lord Vivian Selwyn little realized how often, and in how many different shapes, that idea came to him—wishing his wife was more like Beatrice Leigh. The Lady Violante was sweet, gentle and of a most loving disposition. She was gifted with a refined mind, a cultivated and poetical taste; but tbpre was no mistaking the fact —she was not, and never would be, a “woman of the world.” They were sitting alone in the pretty breakfast room of Thornleigh House —a room gay with rose-colored chintzes, and stands of fragrant flowers. They had been breakfasting together, for neither Mrs. Selwyn nor Miss Leigh were down. The windows were open, and through them came a soft, western wind, perfumed with the breath of mignonette, “I never can do it, Vivian!” she cried. “I am only just tw'enty, and I never even arranged a dancing party it all my life. What shall I do?” His face grow dark with anger. “Violante,”. he asked, “do you intend always to remain a child? "When do you purpose to assume the duties that belong to you ns my wife?” “Do not be angry,” she said piteously; “I will do my best; but, indeed, I have no notion, no idea” even how to begin.” “It is nonsense,” said Lord Vivian; “you are young, graceful, clever, quick to learn, apt to imitate. Why can you not learn to fulfill your duties?—they seem to me simple enough.” Perhaps after all, it had been a terrible mistake; and if so, there was now no remedy. So he looked blankly into the beautiful, sorrowful face, a dreadful conviction dawning upon him that he had made a foolish mistake. “Do not look so, Vivian,” said Lady Selwyn; “I will do my best, Mrs. Selwyn will help me.” “That is the very thing,” said Lord Vivian; “I want you to learn self-reliance. You will not always have my mother and Miss Leigh to help you. Miss Leigh will marry some day, then what will you do?” “I am heartily glad of it,” replied Violante abruptly; and that answer did not quite please Lord Vivian. He had not the faintest idea that his wife was in -the least degree jealous of Beatrice, guch a thought had never occurred to him. He imagined her slightly envious, perhaps, of Miss Leigh's social qualities; but that Violante should be jealous of her never occurred to him. “Well, you will do the best you can, Violante,” he said, as he rose to leave the room. “You must come to me, if you find yourself in difficulties.” W r hen he had gone she cried to herself In a passion of despair. It was such scenes as these she had foreseen when Lord Vivian first asked her to be his wife, and now her fears were all verified. She was not equal to her duties—never would be, and her husband was disappointed in her. The evening of the ball came. Thanks to vigilant and well-trained servants, everything was in perfect order; and Lady Violante, as she looked round the magnificent suite of rooms, felt her heart lightened of a heavy load. Carriage after carriage drove up to the hall door; one group after another of fair guests entered; everything seemed promising and fair. Lady Violante went creditably through the reception of her guests; even the terrible duchess did not awe her. But as the evening wore on, she grew physically fatigued and exhausted. The difficulty of inventing civil gpeeches to so many people overtaxed her strength. Lord Vivian had wished, too, that she should dance with his most honored guest, Lord Lonsdale. She did wonders. She found partners for those who had none, she made up capital quartettes for the whist table, she talked—timidly, it is true —to the ladies; and, but from a malicious remark she overheard from the duchess, the chances are that she would have gone through the evening successfully. Her Grace of Roxminster was talking busily to Lady Seftone —and the two together could get through more gossip and scandal than any other two women in England. Lady Violante saw them sitting apart, talking in a low voice, and the idea unluckily occurred to her that she ought to go up to them and see if they required amusement in any livelier shape. She went to the back of Lady Seftone’s chair, and was in time to hear the duchess 9 t. •ay:

"Ah, poor Lord Vivian! he most have had a great taste for what Lord Byron would call bread and batter, when he married an unformed girl like that." “She was a mere nobody," rejoined Lady Seftone; “the daughter of some country attorney. No one can imagine what he married her for. She has but a washed-out kind of beauty, after all.” Poor Lady Violante! She did not know that was the common language of the fashionable world; she did not know that envy has no pity, no liking; that elderly beauties who have lost all their own charms have no occupation better than decrying the charms of others. A woman of the world overhearing such a conversation would have smiled to herself, and felt that she was beautiful enough to excite envy. To Lady Violante the words brought a sharp, keen pain. They haunted her; she could not fdrget them.

CHAPTER XI. Sunny Florence wore its gayest aspect. The blue waves of the Arno rolled between banks* of odorous flowers. One bright morning in August Lady Violante stood looking, with a far-off glance, over the Arno to the hills beyond. Near her grew a gladiolus, all scarlet and gold; the bees had buried themselves In the bells, humming for very joy in the bWght sunshine; the blossoms around her were musical with the songs of the nightingales. She herself was beautiful as a poet’s dream; but there was an expression of weariness on her face, a shadow in the violet eyes. A few minu««s more, and Lord Vivian joins her. "Still looking for Rupert, Violanter he asks. "How much trouble you give your-

WOMANS ERROR

By Marion V. Hollis .

self over that child. He is six years old now, remember. You cannot expect him to spend all his time in the nursery.” She sighed. Like all mothers, she knew the time must come when her nursling would take flight and pass from her gentle, tender care; yet she dreaded the time. She longed to keep him, to shield him from all the dangers that would beset him; to keep him to heaven and herself. Then her face brightened, and a beautiful color flushed even her brow, a beautiful light flashed in her eyes; for, far off, amid the tall myrtle trees, she heard the clear, ringing voice of a child. “There is Rupert!” cried Lord Vivian. “That is Beatrice with him.”

Then by the golden gladiolus, through the grove of silver-flowered orange trees, comes a woman whose beauty is as gorgeous as a passion flower in the sun; a woman with a face that .would have charmed a Titian, with its glorious coloring; her dark, radiant eyes, straight brows, and magnificent features, her “lips like crimson flowers,” her marvelous loveliness gladdening all who looked upon it. A woman whose every movement was full of imperial grace and dignity, for Beatrice Leigh was in the spring-tide of her life, and nature had lavished every charm upon her.

She made a superb picture as she passed the shimmering orange trees, and Lord Vivian’s eyes brightened with admiration. With one white hand Beatrice held fast the little fingers of a child, evidently a naughty and somewhat refractory child, for he seemed most unwilling to comply with her wishes. “Adhere was he, Beatrice?” asked Lord Vivian, as she came nearer. “I will tell you myself, papa,” cried the young heir of Selwyn. “You have been lost for more than two hours, Rupert,” said Lord Vivian gravely; “where have you been?” But the child could not answer, for Layd Violante had seized him in her arms. She forgot all the world but her boy. She only saw him, and nothing besides. She covered his face with kisses, she murmured sweet words over him, such as only mothers’ lips can frame. Lord Vivian stood by, wondering at this marvelous gift of mother love; and Beatrice Leigh looked on with a sneer on her peerless face. Then Lady Violante sat down on the garden chair, and the child stood by her knee. For the first time she noticed hid face bruised, and one eye swollen ana discolored. “Where have you been, Rupert?” ahe nsked gravely. “I know you will be very cross, mamma,” said the little fellow. “I have been to Luigi’s cottage.” “After I had forbidden you to go there?” said his mother sadly. “Yes,” he replied, and the brave little face flushed hotly. “1 know it was wrong, but Luigi struck me yesterday, and I ran away to fight him to-day.” “To fight T’ she cried in horrified accents; “to fight!” Then the tender mother's heart conquered, the sweet eyes filled with tears, the sweet lips trembled, the tender arms clasped him so tightly. “Oh, Rupert,” she said, “how was it?” “I will tell you, mamma,” said the child. "Do not cry; indeed, he did not hurt me! I took care of that! But yesterday, he, Luigi, said all English boys were cowards, and he struck me; so, today, I went down to his house and asked him to fight. I beat him, though he is the oldest. I fought him for honor, you know, mamma.” But she was looking at him with sweet, frightened eyes. * “You must not fight, Rupert,” she cried eagerly; “never, never again. It is wicked, my boy, wicked and wrong. Say you will never fight again.” “I cannot, mamma,” replied the child. “Suppose, you know, a boy strikes me, what am I to do then ?” In a voice sweeter than the cooing of a ring-dove, she told him those simple, glorious words, spoken by lips divine, words that teach patience under injuries, forgiveness under wrong, “If a boy strikes me,” said the child, “am I not to give it him back again, mamma ?” “No,” she replied eagerly; “you must show patience.” j “But,” interrupted the boy, “he would think I was a coward, mamma.” And she, in her sweet timidity, was startled at this. She hardly knew what to answer. She felt like a woman; he already reasoned like a man. Then Lord Vivian came toward them, and Beatrice Leigh took the child’s hand.

“Nay, Violante,” said her husband, “that is false teaching. You must train my boy to be brave; to be able not only to take his own part, but to defend the weak and the helpless, fight for those who cannot fight for themselves.” A new view of the subject, which seemed to relieve little Rupert wonderfully. Hb raised his earnest eyes, so like his mother’s, to Lord Vivian’s face. “Then you do not think fighting wrong, papa?” he asked anxiously. “Not if it be in a good cause, my son,” was the somewhat puzzling reply. Then spoke Beatrice. “All the men of your race, Rupert, have been brave,” she said. “You must not be the first coward in the family,” “But if mamma cries?*’ said the boy. And the next moment his fair little head was hidden on her breast. “Come with me, Rupert,” said Lord Vivian, “and I will explain to you.” Father and son walked away together. Now was the time for Miss Leigh to plant a sharp dagger in the gentle heart of her onconsdons rival. “He is a splendid little fellow,” she said. “It would be a thousand pities to make a milksop of him.” “I only want him to be good,” Violante replied piteously; “indeed, Beatrice, that is all.” “If Lord Vivian takes my advice,” Mid Miss Leigh, “he will send the boy to s good English school. He will be trained like a man there.” And as she walked away, Lady Vio-

lante looked * after her with despalriai eye*. CHAPTER XII. Imagine, reader, a woman combining the charms of a Greek goddess and • Parisian coquette; a woman wondrous to behold in her superb classical loveliness and easy, graceful, winning manner; the Countess Sitani, the belle of Florence, who might have been Helen of Troy, from the fatal fascination and charm she had for men, “Ah, Lady Selwyn,” she said, in her pretty broken English, “I have found you; Lord Selwyn has told me you were here. I have been smiling to myself at your attitude.” “My attitude!” repeated Lady Violante, flushing crimson, shrinking back, and thinking to herself that she had been guilty of something unconventional. “Yes,” said the countess, with a silvery laugh, “the English are a wonderful people! You are beautiful, young, beloved, rich; there is no fair gift of earth or heaven that is not yours. Your husband is adorable, your child perfection, you can have no shadow of care; yet, as I watched you standing there, no Niobe could have looked more sad. You, the happiest woman in the world, are no sooner left alone than you assume an attitude of desolation. Verily a wonderful people, so given to everything triste. What were you thinking of as you bent over that superb gladiolus, Lady Selwyn?” “Of my home,” was the reply. “In my mind then there was a picture of a green field close to my father’s house; a common green field, I suppose, to others; to me the very light of heaven shines upon it.”

“You are a poetess,” said the countess, gayly. “Do not deny it! How poetry flourishes among English fogs I cannot imagine. Do you know what I have come to see you about? Sit down here, Lady Selwyn, and listen.” They sat down together under the tall syringa trees, the orange blossoms and myrtle leaves falling at their feet; two of the fairest women that ever met, even in that fair clime. “It seems,” said the countess, a smile rippling over her lovely face, “that you, Lady Selwyn, Miss Leigh and myself are the three prettiest women in Florence. I heard yesterday that Prince Cesare called us the ‘Three Graces.’ My idea, the matter on which I came to speak to you, is this —could we not get up some charades, or tableaux vivants, in which we could all three appear? I have mentioned it to some people, and they are charmed with the idea.”

“I do not know; I am not clever,” replied Lady Selwyn, and the wistful look deepened on her fair face. “You need never fear. You frighten yourself without cause. Promise me to join our tableaus. I will bring you through safely. You have but to look pretty, and that will come natural to you. Lord Selwyn would be so pleased.” She had touched the right chord at last. The hardest heart might have been softened at the wistful pleading of Lady Selwyn’s face. “Do you really think,” she said, “that I might do well ?” “I am sure. Give me your promise that you will shake off that foolish timidity and shine as you were meant to do; leave the rest to me. We can meet at my house this evening to discuss and select the scenes that strike us most. We mrfst find one, though, in w hich we can all appear together. Prince Cesare likes Miss Leigh, I think.” “Does he?” asked Lady Selwyn. “She is very beautiful and very gifted. She seems to know everything by instinct. She alw'ays does the right thing at the right time, and says the very words she should say when they ought to be said.” “You are very generous,” cried Countess Sitani, opening her lovely eyes. “Now, if I were yon, I should be horribly jealous of Miss Leigh.” “Why?” asked Lady Violante, calmly, but her heart beat as it had never done before. “I cannot quite tell why,” replied the countess, with a shrug of the pretty shoulders; “only that she seems so often to take your place.” “Because I cannot take ft myself,” interrupted Lady Selwyn. “I would!” said the countess. “1 am not very wise, but I have quick instincts, and I foresee both danger and unhappiness for you unless you make a great effort to assert yourself. Whose will rules your house?—Miss Leigh’s! Who rules your child?—Miss Leigh! Who influences your husband? —Miss Leigh!” “Ah, no!” cried Lady Selwyn, “not that —anything but that.” “Yon must be blind if you do not see it,” said Countess Sitani; “every one else does, and —I must say it—the fault is your own! Instead of shrinking into yourself, as I see you do, and being frightened at every shadow, be bold —know your own rights, and let no one interfere with them. What a sin to sit preaching on this bright day; but a sermon will do you good. Lady Selwyn.,, Remember the committee this evening, and I shall watch you narrowly, to see if my lecture has been of any service to you. Now, goodby.” (To be continued.)

Cost of German Colonies.

Germany can scarcely be considered as successful in her efforts to secure fame as a colonizing power. The estimated cost of colonies for the coming year is fixed, according to the imperial budget, at $2,000,000, In return for which she Is able to point to 1.803 colonists, all told, of which number half are soldiers and officials. With regard to t!;e trade, Germany’s exports to her colonies do not amount to $1,500,000 per annum, so that from a business point of view the undertaking can scarcely be considered as a profitable one. It is evident that the fault lies with the German government rather than with the German merchants. The latter thrive and prosper to a phenom enal degree in the United States, an/ In all those English colonies where ini tiatlve, enterprise and commerce ari not submitted to all the vexatious and hampering restrictions that seem to be Inherent to Germany’s notions of colonial administration.—New York Tribune. ,

Fresh Water from Under the Sea.

In the garrison station forts standing in the sea at Splthend, England, the supply of fresh water Is obtained from wells inside their own walls, which lie under the bed of tbe sea. It is said that the water la exceedingly cool and pu. *

AGRICULTURAL NEWS

THINGS PERTAINING TO THE FARM AND HOME. Practice of Borrowing Implement* la Bad—Europe Manufactures Eggs Out ol Starch-How to Keep Milk in Hot Weather-Bog Cholera Cure. Hiring vs. Borrowing. A great many farmers thing it is unjust for a neighbor to ask pay for the use of such implements as grain drills, corn planters, mowing machines, etc. Why shouldn’t It be right? This spring I bought a corn planter, paying for .lt $37. Now, has a neighbor any more right to ask for the loan of that planter for nothing, than to ask for loan of its value in money, without Interest? Would it pay me to loan it? I think not. I Intend to charge 5 cents per acflb for drilling, aud 10 cents per acre for checking, which will amount to $2 for drilling forty acres or $4 for checking. Allowing my planter to plant eighty acres, besides my own, I would realize $4 or $8 for the use of it. Is there anything unjust in making such charge?— B. A. C. We think it perfectly right to charge for the use of farm machinery. This will not prevent neighborly acts of kindness, such as lending a machine or tool to help a neighbor out of a tight place, which may have resulted from accident or unavoidable circumstances. But the habit some have of depending on neighbors for tools is bad.—Rural World. Kggs No Hen Ever Saw. It will l*e a shock to many to learn that millions of eggs which have been bought apd eaten as products of the hen have do connection with that useful fowl. There are factories in England and on the continent where these “oviform frauds” are produced at the rate of many thousands a day. The yolk Is first quickly fashioned by machinery, from a mixture of maize, starch and one or two other ingredients, colored with ochre. The yellow sphere Is then placed in another “box of mystery,” when the white part of the egg is added. The resultant ball Is frozen arid molded into the requisite oval shape—again by machinery. It is then immersed in a third vat, which contains plaster of paris, and emerges with a shell which quickly assumes all the hardness and appearance of a genuine egg-shell. The process of thawing quickly reduces the contents of the shell to the consistency of a new-laid egg, and the artificial result Is ready for any of the uses to which eggs are put. These “eggs” can be profitably manufactured to sell at prices ranging from 4 cents to 12 cents a dozen, and are retailed at prices which yield anything up to 100 per cent profit.—London Tit-Bits. Keeping Milk in Hot Weather. Many patrons of creameries and cheese factories can not keep their milk sweet for the daily delivery, and more lose Saturday night’s and Sunday morning’a milk—one-seventh of their entire product. This loss Is unnecessary, and can be prevented by care that can be given on any farm. The souring of milk is caused by bacteria which are In the dirt oa the cow’s udder, milker's hands, pails, strainer and cans and In the dust in the air.

The first step in keeping milk sweet la to get it clean, 1. e., free from bacteria. Clean dairy utensils by rinsing In lukewarm water, then thoroughly scrub in hot water and scald with boiling water or steam and expose to the sunlight. Boiling water and sunlight kill the germs found in dirt In palls and cans. Just before milking the milker should wash his hands In hot water, as the dirt on his hands Is full of germs. Brush the cow's udder with a damp cloth Just before milking, and milk in a place free from dust. Strain the milk through the ordinary wire screen and through one thickness of canton flannel or feur thicknesses of cheesecloth, treating the cloth with boiling water just before using. This method will give milk with few germs. Cool milk as soon as drawn, for If kept twenty or thirty minutes before cooling the souring germs in it mays double. The colder milk is kept the longer It will keep sweet. After the milk Is cooled put the cans containing It in a tank of cold water and keep at 60 degrees or less. If the dairyman has a windmill this is easily done by letting a small stream of fresh water flow through the tank. In delivering to the creamery, have a cover on the wagon, cover the cans with a wet blanket, over which put a dry cover. This will hold the temperature down until the milk arrives at the creamery. Budding the Rose. Budding Is performed In the usual manner, and Is not intended as a means of increasing the stock, but of Increasing the varieties upon one plant. It is accomplished by making a T-sbaped incision tn the stock, taking a dormant bud from any rose desired. Thts should be about an inch In length, with a small bit of wood to protect the vitality of the little stranger. Lift the corners of the Incision at top, press the bud down till nearly even, trim top of bud evenly, tie tightly, but not too tightly, with soft cord or yarn, one-half Inch above and one-half below bud. Will unite In about twelve days, then remove tie. A wild rose stock can be used for budding on, and all kinds may be budded onto K soon as the bark separates easily from the stock.—Practical Farmer, Ronp 1b Poultry. Roup in poultry Is one of the most d redded of all diseases. The symptoms are -hoarse breathing, swelled eyes, discharge at the nostrils, and sometimes a fetid breath. Treatment la not generally satisfactory. The affected birds

should be removed, the and disinfected. Damp, foul air and cold draughts In the poultry houses should be carefully avoided whenever fowls are subject to roup. A decrease in the proportion of corn and an increase in the proportion of meat food in the daily ration' Is held by some to be highly beneficial in warding off this disease. In general, the treatment at eommon diseases of fowls is not satisfactory as preventive measures. Nowhere more than In the poultry business does that old adage apply, “An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.”—Agricultural Department Bulletin.

Large Rye Crops. Few farmers appreciate as they should the possibilities of rye when grown for grain. It almost always yields lees than wheat, but this is mainly because It Is often the poor land where wheat could not be grown at all that is soqyi with rye. Rye can be grown on the same land in succession without falling off In field; this shows Its great advantage so far as exhausting fertility is concerned. Rye straw is In many places salable at as high prices as hay, or sometimes higher than this. If grown with mineral fertilizer rye straw can be used in many branches of manufacture. The softer rye straw grown with nitrogenous fertilizers Is much Jess valuable. New Use for Surplus Pears. • Surplus apples can be dried or cider made from them, for which there Is also usually a profitable market; but the use of surplus pears has been comparatively limited. In France, they are usually ground Into a form of cider known to the English as perry; but it has never had anything near the popucider obtained from apples, has. It is said by Meehan’s Monthly that a very profitable use can be made of the surplus pears by turning them into syrup. About three gallons of cider can be obtained from a bushel of pears, and out of this it Is said that syrup enough, quite equal to can syrup, can be obtained to make the operation profitable.—California Fruit Grower. Cabbage Worms. Many remedies have been suggested, but paris green is used more frequently than any other, to which objection Is made by consumers, though it Is doubtful If harm has resulted from Its use. Many growers prefer a more harmless remedy, but there Is nothing sure. Kerosene destroys them, bnt leaves a taint on the cabbage. Much good can be done by destroying all white butterflies (parents of the cabbage worms) that appear. It is an evil that can only be prevented by vigilance and persistent effort Dry dirt, cornmeal, wheat bran, flour or Insect p«vwder dusted on the plants have given beneficial results. —Philadelphia Record.

To Utilize Low-Grade Apples. The Virginia station has reported experiments on various means of utilizing low-grade apples, which, it Is esti-t mated, constitute 40 per cent, of the annual crop in that State. Comriderai ble quantities of this fruit are at present sun-dried, but It Is believed that the use of evaporating apparatus would be much more economical. The cost of manufacture In either case is ’about 3 cents per pound of finished product. The evaporated fruit, as a rule, sells for about 6 cents per pound and the dried for only 2% cents. Thq amount of evaporated fruit per bushel of apples was found to be about 6.6 pounds. Sngar Beets. Experiments with sugar beets have given very encouraging results. In the West the general rule is to pay $4 per ton for beets containing 12 per cent of sugar. In New York State the yields have been from fourteen to eighteen tons per ac# In some localities, one plot producing twenty-six tons per acre. The percentage of sugar has also been high, some samples giving 17 and 18 per cent., the average being 14 per cent. It Is possible to grow over four tons of sugar per acre, with the aid of beets. It la believed that beet sugar will soon become a feature In some sections of this country. To Keep Birds from Fruit. An easy method of frightening birds away from ripe cherries and other fruits is to hang bells so that they can bo rung by pulling a string reaching into the house. Old cowbells, or a few old-fashioned slelghbells will answer the purpose nicely. The frightened birds will return after awhile, but it is but little trouble to jerk the string now and then, and off they will go again. This is much better than to shoot them. It is true that dead birds will eat no more cherries, but neither will they destroy more, Insects or sing more happy songs.—Hartford Times. Lou of Moisture. The loss of water from unplowed ground by evaporation during a dry season Is said to equal on certain lands nearly two inches of rainfall every week. This loss is more than a man with a sprinkling cart and two-horse team can replace by constant work for ten hours 4 day, provided the water was hauled one-fourth of a mile. a ... Hok Cholera Cure. Raise plenty of mustard and feed about two or three times a week when fattening, and occasionally put a little buttermilk and soda In the trough. Feed them about twice-a week on green mustard and corn, and give them plenty of good, pure water. When to Dig Potatoes. Potatoes should be dug when the stem or plant begins to turn yellow rather than to wait until the top dies down, as they will be more liable to rot if they remain In tbe soil t’uk the tubers in tbe shade to dry and store them In a cool place and tn a manner to prevent them from heating.

INDIANA INCIDENTS

RECORD OF EVENTS OE TllH PAST WEEK. . >;J| j Robust Shelby ville Woman Atteaaaiflß to Abdnct a Man— Soldiers’ WImB Loses $373 Pension Money—Aeq^^H ted of Murder Charge. .1 At Shelbyville, Mrs. Walter Nading|H stituted divorce proceedings against MB husband, naming Miss Ruby Clark as 00* respondent, and asking SIO,OOO aiimonyJ Xading, it is said, continued visiting Mislfl Clark until one morning, when he toofcfjß train for Flat Rock, where his w if® ,: <aß staying with her parents. Miss ClagjM learning of his action, scoured a Mveijß rig and started for Flat Rock. On reads* ing there she entered the house whena Xading was attempting a reconciliatfifH with his wife, and, he being small stature and she very large and robust, ahel deliberately picked him up, placed him] in the buggy and was starting away wit® him when interrupted by friends of Mes|l Xading. whose husband was torn a way! from the attempted abductress and re*| turned to her. Mrs. Xading will wit'hJl draw her suit. Robbers Pension Money. M Some time ago Mary Nugent, residing! ten miles north of Shelbyville, was al-j lowed back pension by the Government,:! and the other night her home was visited! by robbers. Her 18-yoar-old son John j was called to the yard aud tied to a tree,| while two men entered the house with re- f volvers, making the mother reveal the hiding place of $373 in gold, her only possession. The son had attended the State fair at Indianapolis and talked of. his mother’s wealth. Acquitted of Murder Charge. At Michigan City, after seven days of evidence in the Superior Court the jury in the case of the State against Barney Dolan, an ex-policeman, who on April 4, in attempting to arrest Harry Wilson, hit him with a mace, causing his death, returned a verdict of not guilty. Verdict for 940,000, A $40,000 verdict was given in the Circuit Court at Peru to Dennis Uhl and James McNitt against the State National Bank of Logansport. The money had been loaned to President John F. Johnson. who wrecked the hank and is now in the Columbus, 'Ohio, penitentiary. Within Our Borders. Prairie wolves are reported in the southern part of I.aporte County. Despondent over ill health. Henry Kissling. aged 20 years, shot and killed himself at Columbus. Findlay McGuire of Anderson, private secretary to Consul Gowdy at Paris, I’rnnce, has resigned. William Stephenson, a wealthy farmer living one mile east of Elizabethtown, was robbed of S3OO while asleep. Contracts have been let for the building of an independent distillery at Terra Haute. Its capacity will be 5,000 bushels daily. At South Bend, the Boston store, Chillas, Adler & Coble, proprietors, is closed. Liabilities, $10,000; assets, $25,000 to $30,000. Mrs. George Meyer, wife of a member of the Crane Elevator Company of Chicago, died from carbolic acid poisoning at Indianapolis. At Elwood, Letia, the 4-year-old daughter of Oris Blake, fell into a kettle of boiling water and was so fearfully burned that she died. Andrew Stark of Chicago, president of the Chicago Indurated Fiber Pail Company, located at South Bend, has brought suit for a receiver. A mound where the Pottawatomie Indians buried their dead a century ago was recently uncovered by workmen digging a cellar at Cedar Lake. At Terre Haute, Mrs. H. M. Winslow and daughter, Jessie, aged 12, were poisoned by eating watermelon and the daughter will probably die. Two men boldly robbed the Bi» Four depot at Carthage in broad daylight, taking all the money and several bunches of tickets. One of the robbers was captured. In a quarrel over a game of cards at New Albany, Henry Fischer was slashed across the face and back by Michael Doherty. The wound in his back may cause his death. At Evansville. John R. Carney, who sued for divoree, has consented to take his wife to his bosom again now that he has been convinced (hat she had not been knowingly guilty of bigamy. Isaac Snow, who shot and killed William MeCart near Bedford, Aug. 15, was indicted by the special grand jury. The charge is murder in the first degree. Snow is now in jail at New Albany. One hundred men in the oar and machine department of the Baltimore and Ohio Southwestern Railway shops at Washington have been laid off indefinitely. The officials assigned no reason. ' William Reid, a prominent young school teacher of Shelby County, was arrested and thrown in jail, charged with the murder of Samuel Barker, near the fair grounds at Shelbyville during a fight. At Indianapolis, the 5-year-old daughter of Mrs. Cornelius Driscoll, while trying to amuse her 4-months-old brother, accidentally fired a Flobert rifle, the bullet striking the baby in the forehead, causing instant death. Judge Piety sustained the motion of the defense to quash the indictment for embezzlement against former City Treasurer Hauck of Terre Haute bn the ground that it was barred by the statute of limi- ’ tations. The State held that he had concealed the crime, but the defense insisted that, on the contrary, he had openly violated the law and published by the records that he had done so. The amount taken was $14,000. The dead body of Riley McFadden was found in the woods one mile northeast of Austin. He had been hunting, and it is supposed in getting on his horse it . became frightened and in some way one barrel of his gun was discharged, taking effect just under the right arm. Albert Clifton, colored, of Cincinnati, Harry Wright of Indianapolis and Garfield Innts, colored, of Rushville, three desperate burglars, sad David Bright, held for grand larceny, escaped from the Bush County jail during the absence of Sheriff Price. A skeleton key was used