Jasper County Democrat, Volume 1, Number 36, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 17 December 1898 — Page 7

A LIVING LIE

CHAPTER Vl—(Continued.) An intense feeling of admiration for her aways Beauclerk. How new a thing to find a girl so beautiful with so much intelligence! Surety instinct is the great lever that moves humanity. Why has not this girl the thousands that render Miss Maliphant so very desirable? What a mistake on the part of Mother Nature! Alas! it would be too much to expect from that niggardly dame. Beauty, intelligence, wealth, all rolled into one personality. Impossible! “You are candid,” says he. “You are too stern a judge; that is what one should always be,” says she, in turn. ' “How shall I convince you?’ exclaims he, of what he leaves open. “If I were to •wear ” “Do not,” says she, quickly. “Well, I won’t. But, Joyce!” He pauses purposely. It is the first time he has ever called her by her Christian name, and a little soft color springs into the girl’s cheeks as she hears him. “You know,” says he; “you do know?” It is a question; but again, what? What does she know? He has accredited her with remarkable intelligence a moment ago, but the girl’s knowledge of life is but a poor thing in comparison with that of the man of the world. She belies her intelligence on the spot. “Yes, I think I do,” says she, shyly. In fact, she is longing to believe, to know this thing, that to her is so plain that she has omitted to notice that he has never put it into words. “You will.trust in me?” says he. “Yes, I trust you,” says she, simply. Her pretty gloved hand is lying on her lap. Raising it, he presses it passionately to his lips. Joyce, with a little nervous movement, withdraws it quickly. The color dies away even from her lips. Even at this moment does doubt hold her in thrall! Her face is marvelously bright and happy, however, as she rises precipitately to her feet, much to Beauelerk’s relief. It has gone quite far enough, he tells himself—five minutes more and he would have found himself in a rather embarrassing position. Really these pretty girls are very dangerous. “Come, we must go back to the ball room,” says she, gayly. “We have been here an unconscionable time. lam afraid my partner for this dance has been looking for me, and will scarcely forgive my treating him so badly. If I had only told him I wouldn’t dance with him he might have got another partner and enjoyed himself.” “Better to have loved and lost,” quotes Beaudlerk, in his airiest manner. It is so airy that it strikes Joyce unpleasantly. Surely after all—after She pulls herself together angrily. Is she always to find fault with him? Must she have his nature altered to suit her? CHAPTER VII. “Did you forget?” asks Dysart, looking at Joyce. “Forget?”

I “That the last dance was mine?” I “Oh, was it? I’m so sorry. You must [forgive me,” with a feverish attempt at feayety. “I will try to make amends. You shall have this one instead, no matter to Whom it may belong. Come. It is only just begun, I think.” “Never mind,” says Dysart, gently. “We won’t dance this, I think. It is cool and quiet here, and you are tired.” “Oh, so tired,” returns she with a little sudden pathetic cry, so impulsive, so inexpressible that it goes to his heart. “Joyce! What is it?” says he, quickly. “Here, come and sit down. No, I don’t want an answer. It was an absurd question. You have overdone it a little, that “ is all.” * “Yes, that is all!” She sinks heavily Into the seat he has pointed out to her, and : lets her head fall back against the cushions. “However, when you come to think of it, that means a great deal,” says she, smiling languidly. ■ “There, don’t talk,” says he. “'What Is (the good of having a friend if you can’t be silent with him when it so pleases you. That,” laughing, and arranging the cushions behind her head, “is one for you and two for myself. I, too, pine for a moment When even the meager ‘yes’ and ‘no’ will not be required of me.” He presses the hand resting on his arm very gently, and then replaces it in her lap. To take advantage of any little kindness she may show him now, when it is plain that she is suffering from some mental excitement, grief, or anger, or both, iwould seem base to him. She has evidently accepted his offer of silence, and lying back in her soft couch stares with unseeing eyes at the bank of 'flowers before her. The atmosphere is .'warm, drowsy, a little jnetancholy. It 'seems to seize upon the two sitting within its seductive influence, and threaten to waft them from day dreams into dreams bom of idle slumber. The rustle of a coming skirt, however, a low voice, a voice ntill lower whispering a reply, recalls them both to the fact that rest, complete and 'perfect, is impossible under the circumstances. A little opening among the tall evergreens upon their right shows them Lord Baltimore. Lady Swansdown is with him. She is looking rather lovelier than usual, with that soft tinge of red upon her cheeks iborn of her last waltz, and her lips parted in a happy smile. The subdued lights of the many lamps falling on her satin gown rest there as if in love with its beauty. The radiant smile that illumines her beautiful face as she glances up at Baltimore—who is- bending over her in more lover-like fashion than should be—la still

making all her face a lovely fire as she passes out of sight down the steps that lead to the lighted gardens—the steps that Joyce but just now had ascended. The latter is still a little wrapped in wonder and admiration, and some other thought that is akin to trouble, when Dysart breaks in upon her fancies. “I am sorry about that,” says he, bluntly, Indicating with a nod of his head the departing shadows of the two who have just passed out. There are no fancies about i)ysart. Nothing vague. “Yes; it is a pity,” says Joyce, hurriedly. “More than that, I think.” “Something ought to be done,” nervously. “Yes,” flushing hotly; “I know —I know what you mean”—she had meant nothing —“but it is so difficult to know what to do, and—l am only a cousin.” “Oh, I wasn't thinking of you. I wasn’t, really,” says she, a good deal shocked. “As you say, why should you speak, when ” “There is Beauclerk,” says Dysart, quickly, as if a little angry with somebody, but certainly not with her. “How can he stand by and see it?” “Perhaps he doesn’t see it," says she in a strange tone, her eyes on the marble flooring. “Perhaps not,” says Dysart, dryly. In his secret heart this defense of his rival is detestable to her. Something in her whole manner when she came in from the garden had suggested to him the possibility that she had at last found him out. Dysart would have been puzzled to explain how Beauclerk was supposed to be “found out” or for what, but that he was liable to discovery at any moment on some count or counts unknown, was one of his Christian beliefs. “Perhaps not,”' says he. “And yet I cannot help thinking that a matter so open to all must be patent to him.” “But,” anxiously, “is it so open?” “I leave that to your own judgment,” a little warmly. “You,” with rather sharp question, “are a friend of Isabel’s?” “Yes, yes,” quibkly. “You know that. But ”

“But?” sternly. “I like Lady Swansdown, too.” says she, with some determination. “I find it hard to believe that she can—can ” “Be false to her friend,” supplements he. “Have you yet to learn that friendship ends where love begins?” ‘‘You think—‘That she is in love with Baltimore.” “And he?” “Oh!” contemptuously; “who shall gauge the depth of his heart?” What can he mean? he has risen and is now pacing angrily up and down the small space before her. “He used to be such a good fellow, and now Is he dead to all sense of honor, of honesty?” “He is a man,” says Joyce, coldly. “No. I deny that. Not a true man, surely.” “Is there a true man?” says she. “Is there any truth, any honesty to be found in the whole wide world?” She too has risen now, and is standing with her large, dark eyes fixed almost defiantly on his. There is something so strange, so wild, so unlike her usual joyous, happy self in this outburst, in her whole attitude, that Dysart regards her with an astonishment that is largely tinctured with fear. “I don’t know what is in your mind,” says he, calmly; “something out of the common has occurred to disturb you so much. I can guess, but,” looking at her earnestly, “whatever it may be, I entreat you to beat it under. Conquer it; do not let it conquer you. There must be evil in the world, but never lose sight of the good; that must be there, just as surely. Truth, honor, honesty, are no fables; they are to be found everywhere. If not in this one, then in that. Do not lose faith in them.”

“You think me evidently in a bad way,” says she, smiling faintly. She has recovered herself in part, but though she tries to turn his earnest words into a jest, one can see that she is perilously near to tears. “You mean that I am preaching to you,” says he, smiling, too. “Well, so I am. ■What right has a girl like you to disbelieve in anything? Why,” laughing, “it can‘t be so very long ago since you believed in fairies, in pixies, and the fierce dragons of our childhood.” “You would have me believe In good only,” says she. “You assure me very positively that all the best virtues are still riding to and fro, redeeming the world with lances couched and hearts on fire. But where to find them? In you?” It is a very gentle smile she gives him as she says this. “Yes; so far, at least, as you are concerned,” says he, stoutly. “I shall be true and honest to you so long as my breath lives in my body. So much I can swear to.” CHAPTER VIII. ‘ Night is waning. Now and again a first call from the birds startles the drowsy air. The wood doves coo, melancholy sweet—the cheep-cheep of the robin—the hoarse cry of the sturdy crow.

“A faint dawn breaks on yonder sedge, And broadens in that bed of weeds; A bright disk shows its radiant edge. All things bespeak the coming morn, Yet still it lingers.” As Lady Swansdown and Baltimore descend the stone steps that lead to the gardens beneath, only the swift rush of the tremulous breeze that stirs the branches betrays to them the fact that a new life is at hand. “You are cold?” says Baltimore, noticing the quick shiver that runs through her. “No; not cold. It was mere nervousness.” “I shouldn’t pave thought you nervous." “Or fanciful?” adds she. “You judged me rightly, and yet—coming all at once from the garish lights within into this cool, sweet darkness here, makes one feel In spite of one’s self.” “In spite! Would you never willingly feel?”

“Would you?’ demands she, very slowly. “Not willingly, I confess. But I have been made to feel, as you know. And you?” “Would you have a woman confess?’ says she, half playfully. “That is taking ap unfair advantage, is it not? See," pointing to a seat, “what a charming resting place. I will make one confession to you. I am tired." He paces to and fro before her in the dying light of the moon. Lady Swansdown leaning back gazes at him with eyes too sad for tears —eyes “wild with all regret.” Oh! if they two might but have met earlier. If this man—this one man in all the world, had been given to her, as her allotment. “Beatrice?’ says he, stopping short before her; “were you ever in love?’ There is a dead silence. Lady Swansdown, sinking still deeper into the arm of the chair, looks up at him with strange, curious eyes. What does he mean? To her—to put such a question to her of ail women! Is he deaf, blind, mad—or only cruel? A sort of recklessness seizes upon her. Well, if he doesn’t know, he shall know, though it be to the loss of her self-respect forever! “Never,” says she, leaning a little forward until the moonbeams gleam upon her snowy neck and arms. “Never —never —until ” The pause is premeditated. It is eloquence itself! The light of heaven playing on her beautiful face betrays the passion of it—the rich pallor! One hand, resting on the back of the seat, taps upon the iron work, the other—is now in Baltimore’s possession. “Until now?’ suggests he, boldly. He is leaning over her. She shakes her head. But in this negative there is only affirmation. His hand tightens more closely upon hers. The long, slender fingers yield to his pressure— ntfy, more—return it; they twine round his. “If I thought ” begins he in a low, stammering tone —he moves nearer to her, nearer still. Does she move toward him? There is a second’s hesitation on his part, "and then, his lips meet hers! It is but a momentary touch, a thing of an instant, but it includes a whole world of meaning. Lady Swansdown has sprung to her feet, and is looking at him with eyes that seem to burn through the mystic darkueks. She is trembling in every limb. Her nostrils are dilated. Her haughty mouth is quivering, and there—are these honest, real tears in those mocking eyes? Baltimore, too, has risen. His face is very white, very full of contrition. That he regrets his action toward her is unmistakable, but that there is a deeper contrition behind—a sense of self-loathing not to be appeased betrays itself in the anguish of his eyes. She had accused ham of falsity, most falsely up to this, but now —now! His mind has wandered away. There is something so wild in his expression that Lady Swansdown loses sight of herself in the contemplation of it. “What is it, Baltimore?” asks she, in a low, frightened tone. It rouses him. “I have offended you beyond pardon,” begins he, but more like one seeking for words to say than one afraid of using them. “I have angered you—” “Do not mistake me,” interrupts she, quickly, almost fiercely. “I am not angry, I feel no anger—nothing—but that 1 am a traitor.”

“And what am I?” “Work out your own condemnation for says she, still with that feverish self-disdain upon her. “Don’t ask me to help you. She was my friend, whatever she is now. She trusted me, believed in me. And after all And you,” turning passionately, “you are doubly a traitor, you are her husband.” “In name!” doggedly. He has quite recovered himself now. Whatever torture his secret soul may impress upon him in the future, no one but he shall know. “It doesn’t matter. You belong to her, and she to you.” “Pray don’t leave on Lady Baltimore's account,” says he, slowly; “she would be the last to care about this. lam nothing to her." “Is your wish father to that thought?” regarding him keenly. “No, I assure you. The failing I mention is plain to all the world, I should have thought.” “It is not plain to me,” still watching him. “Then learn it,” says he. “If ever she loved me, which I now disbelieve, “it was in a past that now is irretrievably dead. I suppose I wearied her—l confess”—with a meager smile —“I once loved her with all my soul, and heart, and strength—or else she is incapable of knowing an honest affection.” “That is not true,” says Lady Swansdown, some generous impulse forcing the words unwillingly through her white lips. “She can love! you must see that for yourself. The child is proof of it.” (To be continued.)

A Deliberate Opinton.

Chief Justice Waite, who delighted to tell legal stories, says the Chicago Times-Herald, once told this story about Evarts and Conkling: Roscoe Conkling came into Mr. Evarts’ office one day when he was a young lawyer, in quite a nervous state. “You seem to be very much excited, Mr. Conkling,” said Mr. Evarts, as Roscoe walked up and down the room. “Yes, I’m provoked—l am provoked,” said Mr. Conkling. “I never had a client dissatisfies about my fee before.” “We,ll, what’s the matter?” asked Mr. Evarts. “Why, I defended Gibbons for arson, you know. He was convicted, but I did hard work for him. I took him to the Superior Court and he was'convicted, then on to the Supreme Court, and the Supreme Court confirmed the judgment and gave him ten years in the penitentiary. I charged him three thousand dollars, and now Gibbons is grumbling about It—says it is too much. Now, Mr. Evarts, I ask you, If I really charged too much?” “Well,” said Mr. Evarts, very deliberately, “of course you did a good deal of work, and three thousand dollars Is not a very big fee, but to be frank with you, Mr. Conkling,, my deliberate opinion is that—he— might—have— been—convicted—for—less—money.”

Railroads Needed in Brazil.

The facilities for inland transportation are so limited in Brazil that the Inhabitants of the ports find it cheaper to Import grain from North America than from their own farms.

PULSE fo the PRESS

Chicago is still worried about what to do with its water. Why not wash it?—Memphis Commercial-Appeal. By means of his oscillator, Tesla can change a Chicago girl’s kiss Into a clap of thunder. —Memphis Commercial-Appeal. It looks as if Picquart’s enemies are about ready to select an island for his future residence. —Cleveland Plain Dealer. The Spanish bishop of Porto Rico, who resigned when his salary stopped, went on the principle of no pay no cure. —St. Paul Dispatch. Oh, what a glorious opportunity for Prof. Norton! Let him go down and see what happened to the Maria Teresa.—St. Paul Dispatch. Mr. Corbett can give Spain pointers on the art of fighting. Mr. Corbett can get licked and make a big profit on the job.— Washington Post. According to Dr. Sternberg’s diagnosis, the trouble in the army can be best cured by congressional appropriation in allopathic doses.—Philadelphia Ledger. Nikola Tesla should either rein in his imagination or spur up his inventive genius. The distance between the two is becoming rather magnificent.—Kansas City Journal. News reports say the Maria Teresa is stuck on Cat island in a bed of sand, and truth requires the statement that it war lack of sand that permitted her to drift there.—Philadelphia Times. It would be easier to believe that Lord Beresford has agreed to pay Jockey Sloan $25,000 for his services next season if Sloan wasn’t so anxious to have the figures published.—Boston Herald.

Feer or Crank? The Keely motor must now be packed away with other monstrous conceptions of the human mind, like Symmes’ Hole. Those who examide Mr. Keely’s workshop, if such examination be permitted by his will, are likely to find nothing but involved mechanisms that lack the essential element of practicability,—Rochester Democrat and Chronicle. Many great inventions have resulted from trifles or accidents by patient students, who had seemingly exhausted every resource. Keely is therefore not to be ridiculed. His idea may seem chimerical now, but his purpose was beneficent and the time may come when posterity will call not him but his critics the foolish ones.—Galesburg Republican Register. The difficulty with Keely was just this —that he made a wrong distribution of his abilities. If he had put as much energy and sheer power into perfecting his motor as he put into organizing his financial support, he might have thrown Tesla into the shade, and made Edison hunt cover. As it was, he only lacked one thing of being a great discoverer—the making of a great discovery.—Kansas City Journal. But he worked on and died leaving his invention uncompleted. His partners in the enterprise hope that the Keely motor has been pushed to a point of development where it can be taken up by other hands and brains and advanced to practical working. Let it be hoped so; for science has done so much for the race that Americans look upon things once regarded as wild with imaginings as plausible and practicable.—St. Louis Republic,

The W. C. T. U. Temple.

The hard times and not the women are to blame, however, and the chances are that any organization of men would have been forced to throw up its hands long ago.—Peoria Transcript. It is hardly surprising that women unaccustomed to handling large business enterprises should have become dismayed at the magnitude of the Temple scheme, but they might have drawn inspiration from the courage of Mrs. Carse instead of listening to the timid counsels of Lady Henry Somerset.—Minneapolis Tribune. The action of the W. G. T. U. convention in dropping the Chicago Temple creates no great surprise. It was too big a scheme for that organization to undertake, and even if it had been succcssftal, it has never yet been made clear how (he cause of temperance for which the W. C. T. U. is working would have been benefited. —Bloomington Pantagraph. That most women are confirmed hero worshipers is shown in the strife of the W. G. T. U. over the proposition to make the Women's Temple a monument to Miss Frances E. Willard. The sentiment which inspired the Temple contemplated the erection of a noble memorial to the cause for which many labored with equal head of the movement led a considerable portion of the workers to idolize the leader above the cause.—Springfield Journal. North Carolina Race Riots.

As to the outrage In Wilmington, it may be said that there was no plausible excuse for the revolution of Thursday. The white leaders bad only to wait till Majch to come into power in the city government. Waiting so brief a period would not have brought disaster.—lndianapolis Journal. The whites, not the blacks, are the rulers of this country. North and South, Bast and West. That fact should have been established long ago, and is, we believe, well understood in every other State in the South except the unfortunate eastern portion of North Carolina, and when terrible work of yesterday is done the fact will be thoroughly established there. —Nashville American. The negroes in the South cannot stand against the whites when it cpmes to a question of physical force. They may outvote the whites in some States or localities, but in time their victories will surely be snatched away from them by the shotgun or rifle. Their only safety lies in abandoning the race issue and dividing in politics, as they naturally would if there were not two separate races living side by side.—Minneapolis Tribune. It seems in North Carolina they want many negroes there to leave and also wish to prevent those outside from entering. This is like the Southern coon trap that caught them going and coming.—Philadeuphia Times. The accounts of the wholesale and unprovoked murder of colored men in the South may well make an intelligent person reflect as to whether or not certain Southern States are a part of the American Union. For a few years there was less of this barbarism, but of late there has been a remarkable revival of It— Philadelphia Press.

RECENT INVENTIONS.

A colorless ink for nse In writing on postal' cards, etc., is made by mixing together sulphuric acid and water, the writing becoming permanently visible when the paper is heated. To secure corks in bottles without the use of wire bales-a short nail is inserted in a hole formed In the neck of the bottle at the time it is cast, entering the side of the cork and holding it fast until "withdrawn by a hook. “ A Californian has patented an attachment for shears used In cutting flowers, consisting of a pair of metal plates to be clamped on the blades to shut and grip the stem as it is cut off, holding It until released by opening the blades. To prevent animals from swallowing their food in a hurry an improved manger has a spring partition suspended from the top, which permits only a small portion of the food to fall at a time, pressure on the partition to get larger mouthfuls shutting off the supply entirely. In a recently patented bicycle saddle the frame is pivoted at the end of the post to tilt forward and backward, an adjustable coiled spring being attached to the point of the saddle to allow It to swing back until the tension of the spring balances the weight of the rider. To retain shirt bosoms in place a Southerner has patented a device composed of two strips of flexible webbing crossing at the back, with fasteners at the end which clasp the edges of the bosom and draw it against the body to prevent it fr<sm bulging out.

Yankee Gold for Titles.

M. de Royer, who is recognized as one of the leading authorities on questions of heraldry and genelaogy in France, draws a fantastic picture of the millions of American dollars which find their way each year into France by means of marriages between American heiresses and Gallic nobles. In one year alone —it was not the.year of the Gould-Castellane wedding—he demonstrates how 100,000,000 francs, that is to say $20,000,000 found their way in this manner into French pockets. If M. de Royer is, however, to be believed, heiresses always get their money’s worth. For he asserts that although there are about 50,000 French families who make use either of titles or of the nobiliary particle of “de,” there arc less than half of that number whose claims to any nobiliary prefix are genuine. Nor does M. de Royer stop here. How many of the families with authentic nobiliary prefixes, he asks, have remained really noble in the sense of descent ? Each masculine Introduces into the noble family 50 per cent, of plebeian blood, and when in a number of following generations there has been a sequence of unions of this kind, how much of the blue blood is there left at last? American women, therefore, marrying French nobles would do well to make sure that they get the bona fide article before parting with their money or risking their future happiness.

The Oldest Forename.

In ancient times people had one name only, as Adam or David, and in order to distinguish persons of the same name It was the custom to affix the description “son of” Isaac or Jacob, as the case might be. Thus we get Solomon ben David among the Hebrews, and Evan ap Richard among the Welsh, to quote two examples. Although the argument that those names were not strictly “fore names” Is not within weight, yet it Is reasonable to accept them as such, seeing that the appellation had to be supplemented by another for the sake of distinction; we are, therefore, entitled to Include them within the scope of the question. Adam and other early Biblical names are regarded as the oldest for obvious reasons; but excluding these the choice falls upon Marmaduke, which Is the modern rendering of the ancient Chaldean Maruduk and Merodach, the god who Interceded constantly between the angry Ea and the humble Damkina, his father and mother. The Romans used both forenames and family names, and of the former, -two that date back about twenty-five hundred years, are still with us, namely, Marcus and Lucius, represented in modern tongues by Mark and the feminine Lucy. The old form “Marcus” is still retained In some families.

Her Son.

Of course, every young mother thinks her baby the center of the universe. Apropos of which the Atlanta Constitution tells a story of much point. There have been several boy babies born in Atlanta In the past few months. This Is not intended as a startling piece of news, because their arrivals have been duly and appropriately chronicled, but it is only stated as the basis qf a little joke. Some days ago four of the happy young mothers, al! of whom had fine boys at home, met Id one of the dry-goods stores. All of them completed their purchases about the same time. As they were all leaving the store, in speaking distance of qach other, a fresh young clerk, in an effort to be pleasant, fired the stereotyped question at one of them, “How is the boy to-day?” In an instant four beaming faces were turned toward him and four pleased voices answered In chorus, “Oh, he’s all right, thank you.” Ths clerk fainted.

Making It Brighter.

The Good Man—What have you eves done to make the world a brlghte: place? Overloaded Walking Delegate— l’ve done a good deal. Organized more’s twenty metal-polishers’ unions (lurin’ lash year.” If you must be a liar, be a statistical one and you will never be caught at it*

INDIANA INCIDENTS.

RECORD OF EVENTS OF TH# PAST WEEK. Tragedy at a Church Door— Prison for a Farmer Who His Daughter-Policeman ShooteSE Boy —Young Skater Drowned. Robert Moore, a farmer living five east of Hazleton, shot and mortalß|r wounded two brothers of the name "O Decker. Paris Decker called Moore the village church, and Moore, as soon ® he reached the door, drew a revolver and shot Decker in the back, following it witw a second shot, which took effect in thtii man’s stomach. Charles, a brother of Paris, assisted by others, took the IM volver away from Moore, who immediat® ly drew a second pistol and mortal®, wounded Charles in the left breast. The trouble arose over the question of fencing the church property, and bad blood ha# existed between the three men for some time past. Farmer Swindles His Daughter. I Isaac Pennington, a wealthy and ref spected farmer of Sims township, wag; sentenced to the penitentiary for two years, after being found guilty of embetj zlement. The prosecuting witness wa# Pennington's daughter, who swore th#s her mother, who is dead, willed her s7oo£ that her father used the money whil# holding it in trust, that he had married two years after the death of her mother and that the S7OO was used to purchase ■ farm, which he deeded to his second wife. Boy Killed for Snowballing. I Charles Tracey, aged 17, was shot and killed by Timothy O’Connor, custodian of Greenlawn cemetery at Indianapolis. A party of boys led by Tracey were snows balling passers-by, when O’Connor warn* ed them to desist. The boys turned their attention to O’Connor, and he chased them, revolver in hand, firing two shotaf as he asserts, into the air. One of the bullets struck Tracey in the side, killing him instantly. Boy Skater Found in the Ice. ] Will Jasorke. 14 years old, was drown* ed, while skating near Logansport. Hug body was found the next day. He broke through the ice about six miles from ther# in Eel river. His hands were torn, and the rough ice around him gave evidence of a terrible struggle for life. Blinded While Coughing. II Frank Jackley of Frankton lost his sight while in a paroxysm of One of the blood vessels of the optic nerves was broken and he went- stone blind. There is no hope of recovery of hi# sight. Within Our Border*. Forest fires caused much damage in Po 4 scy County. On account of diphtheria the Sheridar schools were closed. 7 The State Bank of Jonesboro has gon< into voluntary liquidation. The Sternes woolen mills at Peru, whic' have been closed for ten years, will be re opened. The last election cost Grant Count; $4,132.19, an average slightly in excess o 37c per vote. Garrison Brothers’ elevator and 6,00 Q bushels of grain were burned at Converse Loss $7,000. Alonzo Colbert, aged 50, was instant] killed in the Washington coal mine b; falling slate. “At Michigan City, Ernest Wills, mem ber of the 161st Indiana, was arrest# for desertion. The Illinois Smelting and Refining Conti pany of Chicago will locate its factory a Hartford City. At La Grange, George L. Rowe, a re tired merchant, was found dead in bet of heart disease.

Mrs. Eiiis Pearson committed suicide I by drinking two ounces of ammonia. Herl mind was unbalanced. I Andrew Comstock, president of the G.l 11. Hammond Beef Company of Ham— l mond, died at Providence, R. I. I While scrubbing a floor in Washington I Miss Anna Boyd ran a splinter into her! finger. She is dead of lockjaw. I The corner stone for the new Odd Fel- I lows’ Home at Greensburg will be laid-l next May, and the dedication is set for the I ensuing November. ,1 R. B. F. Pierce, general manager of Indiana, Decatur and Western Railroads! died suddenly at his home in while reading the paper. I Mrs. Lott a Penketh was awarded $4,-1 000 damages for the loss of her left heel, I which was taken off last summer on al street crossing in Anderson. I William Edson, Charles P. Briggs, Geo.'l Moore and Janies Ryan, all held in the® Vincennes jail charged with grand ceny, made good their escape. I The proposition to form a cement trust ® in southern Indiana, all the mills to sell! their produce through a Louisville, Ky.,® agency, is said to have been I While going at a rate of twenty miles® an hour the engine of a through freight 1 on the Baltimore and Ohio Southwestern® left the track near Shoals and several 1 cars were wrecked. ® Rev. Dr. H. L. Vannoys, whose pastor- I ate in the Goshen First Presbytertaw l Church surpasses in time that of any oth- I er pastor in the State, preached the forty-® sixth anniversary sermon of his pastorat«H] The Consolidated Coal Company, com--|l posed of capitalists from Terre Haute and® Chicago, have begun prospecting near.il Jackson Hill, where they have an option I on a large body of coal land. They willj erect two plants. ' ‘I The celebrated Monroe City riot case I was ended vyhen the jury returned a ver»® diet against Jacob Tucker, Joseph A. Bar-® nett, Jacob O. Hicks and John Bell, im- I posing a tine of SIOO upon each, and ae-.’l quitting Dennis P. Coon rod, W. H. son, James Coonrod and Jarnos EdwanMM Mrs. Kate Willard, wife of Hon. J. Willard of Bedford, died of uremic poi»|| soning after an illness of two weeks. | I A mysterious shooting occurred at In-'B dianapolis. May Lindeman, the wife O&K Harry Lindeman, a young man of Mml years, was found dead, shot through heiM heart. Lindeman had rushed out of thell room, shot in the knee. Detectives hus|M ried to the house and arrested accusing him of the murder of his wlf2|l He denied guilt, and said his wife bsdS shot him and then herself. His wife’s® parents told the detectives of threats be | bad made of taking his wife's Ute. <0(1 er. ' -1