Jasper County Democrat, Volume 2, Number 20, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 26 August 1899 — Page 6

Worth the Winning

By--The Duchess.

CHAPTER VI. The last stroke of eight (lies out from titeofal efock in the hall as Seaton Dysart ewtwrs the drawing room. The extreme Ateginwss ami gloom of that melancholy . apartment sinks into him as he moves ■Briber dfeeontentedly, but with a man’s ■BflHling instinct, toward the hearth-rug. ht* i« not all gloom, however, as he pres•nrily dfscovvrs, in this dreary place. Some ■nw rises languidly from a low chair —a gjxt, a Ibvely girt, as he instantly admits anil advances about the eighth part of ■* ordinary foot toward him. They are wonderfully alike, the father amfi sou, and vet how wonderfully unl&r. It seems impossible that with ex(BßMions so utterly at variance so strong a resemblance can exist, yet it is there. The one, the old face, mean, cringing, ■mspieious. Wicked; the other, cold, honor■K&a. earnest and beautiful. The girl, wawdung him with distrust in her eyes, ■ritetantly acknowledged this last fact. ‘‘Tin. extremely sorry if I've kept you Wateuxg for dinner,” he says, advancing w g (jjaicker puce, once he sees the pretty in white, and holding out his hand. Tht the fact is 1 was dreadfully tired wrfhra 1 arrived, and I'm rather afraid 1 Ml asleep,” “The day is warm.” says she, coldly. The likeness to his father seems clearer • •»> War- as- he speaks, ami kills for her all tike charm, of his face. “Very; but I don’t fancy my absurd fit *ff Ihainess arose from that. Rather from tfbr fflu.-r that I haven’t had a wink of ■teep fbr the last two nights.” “Two nights!” says she with a faint ■niiwi "• of interest, “Toothache? Sick fcrenii?” “OU. no. Bail - cards,” returns he, con“■Ah.’“~ says she. this time rather <F“You. are Griselda, I suppose i ’ says hh. pteasantly., “Why should you suppose it?” asks she, Wdrib a faint smile. “Thue. Why should 1?” returns he, teigltintr “Perhaps because,” with a •wuiiy took at her, “I have been told that ■gy flwusin Griselda is a person possessed *f ■ wmsiderable amount of—of character..”' . «. “ffy. that you. mean that you have heard Gnselila is self willed.” says she, calmly. “•Ami as it is evident you think I look the gKt toso. E am afraid you must prepare juorself meet two self-willed cousins—--1 am not Griselda." iff she hndi fancied that this annotince■serot would have put him out, she is undkeei wed in. a moment, “Sb'*' says he. looking distinctly amus«dL “There is comfort in the thought that 1 cannot again full into error, because you ■oust be Vera.” “Tes». 1 am Vera.” slowly. “1 finer you will find it very dull down Ibbw.” “Tour father has been very good to us; ■tunv- than kind.” interrupts she, gently, Witt with, decision. “He has given us a ImmiT

“1 should think he would be very glad ta ®»C j«Mt here.” says he. At thia moBhoc Grise+da. enters the room. A channihgtklniselilh. in white, like her sister, and wdidh ar thiwer in her sunny hair. She toip» tip tw Seaton and gives him her hand and a frank smile, that has just the cor* teuU unuuiat of coquettish shyness in it. A man,, he Griselda. no matter out of" whar obnoxious tribe he may have sprung, is always a creature to be gently tseufset snole.l upon and encouraged. ~tSi votive come at last to this Castle •ff Ikispuir-,”' says she. saucily. "I must saty,. you took time to look us up. But 1 dhti’h blame you ; life down her is too lively 9ur most. It has Quite dune up Vera aanfa me.” Tie dismal sound of a cracked old din■wgjtng breaks in at this instant on GriMttes speech; They all rise and cross •ftw tail to the dining room, but just insuin i£ a; momentary hesitation takes gih/’e. Dysart going to the foot of the LkMv. V era stops short, as if in some surprise. &i look at him, Question in her ♦yus. “•Tout wilt take the head of the table, 1 ib/pe.'* 1 soys he, in a low tone, divining ter perplexity. — Quickly, and then- a-pause. "Uynii wish it. of course." she says, with a swift uplifting of the brows and an ab mrtsr imperceptible shrug. Her manner somehow irritates him. **4 wisfii it, certainly.”' says he, coldly. **®tr I wish still more to see you do only tihut which, you like.” “t Have-few likes and dislikes,” replies ate.. still in that utterly emotionless tone; and sweeping past him. she seats herself ■tt tdta- head of the table. As flue Grsdda. the little jar in the soeual! atmosphere around her goes by un■BCfewi.. an overcome is she by the unwtumoed; magnificence of the sight before Ink. a i&eeat dinner table at Grvycourt. Stta- looks round her and loses herself a fefito- Ch» touch of fairyland the room geeeents. It is. as it were, an echo from Mte past, a glimpse into the old life when tec- teeter still lived, that she hardly teewr was <buir to ter until she had lost BL. Tte glitter of the silver, the glass, Mte intense-perfume of the glowing flow■te, «te aurih tint of the fruits, all seem gaatt a* a flhiaru; a sweet one, too. Me Dysart is wondering why both girls ritanfit have- taken so instantaneous • dis■te te ten.. As a rule, women were civil ■Bitegib:; yet tear were two to whom he ante an wttee stranger, aad aggressive Wtaaflte only word te could apply to their tasks and wreedk. though both were studihnaiy polite. **®a> yon stay tong?* asks Griselda pres atfflfc, Brateag at ter cousin. **l dteT know how you may view it. I Mteaa te tsmus tte day after to-mor-—te way early an that day. Whether I antae er ante not work for my living V WB tel UMJmIG wIMHB JCttik. WulTiU Ul“. A vwmfc-you. will hardly teteve it in this laaadr age 'Mt 1 actually seek after tan 1 ihnuM Kte to get on in my proStetten; te te wot titan a stere trifier.” **T«at see charming,” says Griselda, fc... ■ '

saucily. “You talk like a book —a blue book. But you have not told me why your father will not let us see anyone, why——” “Griselda!” says Miss Dysart, a little sharply. She rises as she speaks, and Dysart opens the door for her. As Griselda passes him he says, easily: “I cannot tell you everything at once, you see; but I dare say there will be time given me. As for my father, he is eccentric, and, I fear, hard to live with. But if ever I can help you, call on me.” Griselda gives him a smile for this, and follows her sister into the drawing room. “After all, he isn’t half bad,” she says, with a little nod. “I was right, however. Did you ever see a father and son so like?” asks Vera, coldly. CHAPTER VII. “Well, I'm off,” says Griselda, poking her pretty head into the summer house, where Vera sits reading. It is next day, and a very lovely day, too.” “For your ramble,” says Vera, laying down her book. “So you won't take my advice? Very good. Go on, and you’ll see that you won’t prosper.” Her tone is half gay, half serious. “And don’t be long,” entreats Vera, with a sudden rush of anxiety. “Don’t, now. Yes, I’m in deadly earnest. There is that man all over the place, let loose, as it were, for my discomfiture, and if he turns up in this part of the world I suppose I shall have to talk to him.” "What a calamity!” says Griselda, with a little feigned drooping of her mouth. “In this barren wilderness even manna may be regarded with raptune—even Seaton! Better any man than no man, say I,” • “So say not I, then,” with great spirit. She has leaned forward upon her elbow, and her eyes are brilliant with a little suspicion of anger. “Give me a desert Island rather than the society of a man whom I know it will require only time to teach me to detest. And how you can call him so familiarly ‘Seaton,’ passes my ” A pause! An awful pause. Who is it that has turned the corner of the summer house, and is looking in at them with a curious expression round his mouth? Griselda is the first to recover. "Isn’t it absurd?” she says, smiling rather lamely. “But I assure you, Seaton, your sudden appearance quite took away my breath. You should stamp when you come to a house like this. The grass all round is so thick.” "Too thick!” says Dysart, with a swift glance at Vera, who has lost all her color. "For the future I shall try to remember. lam very sorry I startled you.” He has addressed himself entirely to Griselda, unless that one lightning glance of contemptuous reproach cast at Vera could be counted. "But I was on my way to one of the farms, and this is the lowest, the nearest path to it. 1 shall never cease to regret”—here he stops dead short, and turns his eyes unreservedly on Vera — “that I did not take the upper one.” He makes both girls a slight bow, and walks swiftly onward on the unlucky path he had chosen. “Oh, Vera, do something!” cries Griselda, in a small agony of consternation, clasping her hands. Vera, thus admonished. springs to her feet, and, driven half by honest shame and half by impulse. rushes out of the summer house and runs after Dysart as he is fast disappearing through the shrubs. Reaching him, panting and pale with agitation, she lays her band timidly upon his arm. "1 am so grieved,” she says, her charming face very pained, her lips white. “There are moments when one hardly knows what one says, and ” "There are such moments, certainly,” says he, interrupting her femdroelessly. "But they can hardly be classed with those in which the calm confidences of one sister are exchanged with the other. And why should you apologize? I assure you, you need hot. I do not seek for or desire anything of the kind.” It almost seems to her that he has Shaken her hand from his arm. Drawing back, she sees him proceed upon his way, and then returns to Griselda. “I really think I hate him,” says Vera, vehemently; The recollection of his contemptuous glance, the way in which he had disdained her apology—above all, that slight he had offered her when he had displaced her hand from his arm—all rankle in her breast, and a hot flow of shame renders her usually pale face brilliant. “There, never mind him,” she says, with a little frown. "He is not staying long, fortunately, and this episode "will bear good fruit of one sort at least. He will not trouble me with his society while you are away. Now hurry, Griselda, do.” Griselda, with a light laugh, drawn irresistibly by the gorgeous loveliness of the lights and shadows of the land below, runs down the pathway aud is soon lost to view. When she returns over an hour later she discovers to her amazement, that Vera is still in it. “You are miserable about that wretched affair of the morning,” cries Griselda. “Never mind it. If you will come to dinner I promise you to do all the talking, and as it has to be endured I do entreat you to keep up your spirits.” “Oh, yes. There isn't a decent chance of escape,” says Vera, wearily. “’Sh!” cries Griselda, softly, putting up her band; the sound of coming footsteps, slow, deliberate footsteps purposely made heavier, smites upon their ears. “oGod heavens! Here he is,” says Griselda, and indeed they have barely time to put on a carefully unconscious demeanor, when Seaton Dysart darkens the door of the summer house, and looks coldly down on them. “'They told me I should find you here,” he says, speaking to Vera. “I have come to say good-by.” “But surely you are not going so soon —not before dinner, not to-night!” cries Griselda, thunderstruck by this solution of their difficulty, and a little sorry, too.

“I am going now. Good-by,” holding out his hand to her with a determination not to be changed. Griselda takes it and shakes it genially, nay, warmly. His humor is decidedly hostile, and if he acquaints the old father of their incivility— Anything to propitiate him, she tells herself, will be the correct thing, and she grows positively friendly toward him, and beams upon him with gentle entreaty in her eye. “If you must go, do us one service first,” she says. “Do you see that rose?” —a rather unkempt and straggling specimen of its kind that trails in unadmired disorder just outside the door. “It has baffled me many a time, but you are tall, oh, taller than most; will you lift these awkward tendrils, and press them back into shape?” She is smiling divinely at him, a smile that Tom Peyton would have given several years of his life to possess; but Dysart is disgracefully unmoved by it, and, refusing to return it, steps outside, and, with a decidedly unwilling air, proceeds to lift the drooping tendrils and reduce them to order. Griselda, naturally a girl of great resource, seizes the opportunity she has herself provided. Catching Vera’s arm, she draws her back out of sight. “Now’s your time!” she says. “Say something. Do something. It doesn't matter what, but for heaven’s sake smooth him down one way or another! If you don’t you’ll have the old man down upon us like ” “I can’t,” gasps Vera, fearfully. “You must,” insists Griselda, sternly. “It’s impossible to know what sort of man he is. If revengeful, he can play old Harry with us!” Without waiting to explain what particular game this may mean, or the full significance thereof, she steps lightly outside and gazes with undisguised rapture upon Dysart’s work. Dysart returns to the summer house with all the manner of one in mad haste to be gone. It is merely a part of an unpleasant whole, he tells himself, that he must first say a chillingly courteous word or two of farewell to the girl who has openly declared toward him such an undying animosity. “I am afraid,” says Vera, speaking with cold precision, as one delivering herself of an unloved lesson, “that you are going away thus abruptly because of what you heard me say this morning.” “You are right. is why 1 am going,” replies Dysart, calmly. "Yes?” in a chilling tone, and with faintly lifted brows. “I regret exceedingly that I should have so unfortunately offend you, but to go for that—it all sounds a little trivial, don’t you think?” “Not by going, I think. I don’t see how I can do otherwise. Why should I make you uncomfortable? But you may call it trivial if you like, to talk of detesting a man you have only seen for an hour or two, and who in those hours ” He pauses. “Did I make myself so specially objectionable?” demands he, abruptly, turning to her with something that is surely anger, but as surely entreaty, in his eyes. “As I told you before,” indifferently, "one says foolish things now and then.” "Would you ha've me believe you did not really mean what you said?” "I would not have you believe anything,” returns she, haughtily. "I only think it a pity that you should curtail your visit to your father because a chance remark of mine that cannot possibly affect you in any way.” “Is that how you look at it?” "Is there any other way? Why should you care whether or not I detest you—l, whom you saw for the first time yesterday?” “Why, indeed!” He regards her absently, as if trying to work out in his own mind the answer to this question, and then, suddenly: "Nevertheless, 1 do care,” he says, with a touch of vehemence. “It is the injustice of it to which I object. You had evidently determined beforehand to show me no grace. I defy you to deny it! Come, can you?” Miss Dysart is silent. The very impetuosity of his accusation has deadened her power to reply, rmd besides, is there not truth in it? Had she not prejudged? “By the bye,” he says, “I am afraid you will have to put up with me for a few hours every week. I shall promise to make them as short as I possibly can. But my father likes to see me every seven days or so, and I like to see him. Do you think,” a slight smile crossing his face, "you will be able to live through it?” "I have Jived through a good many things,” says Vera, her dark eyes aflame. "That gives you a chance here; prac-,. tice makes perfect. I am sorry to be obliged to inconvenience you so far, but if 1 stayed away, lam afraid my father might want to know why. He might even be so absurd as to miss me.” "Why should you take it for granted that 1 desire your absence?” cries Vera, her voice vibrating with anger. “Come, remain, or stay away forever—what is it to me?” And it was thus that they parted. (To be continued.)

Not to Be Balked.

A comparison made by an old carpenter twenty years ago may be applied in a much wider sense than he had in mind. He was speaking of two boys, brothers, who had been sent to him to learn the trade. They were bright boys, and their father, in telling the carpenter of his pleasure at their progress In their work, said he could not see but one hand had done just as well as the other.; “Um-m!” said the carpenter. “I presume to say their work looks about of a piece, but I’ll tell you the difference betwixt those two boys. Yqu give Ed just the right tools, and he’ll do a real good job; but Cy. If he hasn’t got what he needs, he’ll make his own tools, and say nothing about It. “If I was casted on a desert island and wanted a box opened, I should know there’d be no use asking Ed to do it, without I could point him out a hammer. “But Cy!” added the old carpenter, with a snap of his fingers. “The lack of a hammer wouldn’t stump that boy! He’d have something rigged up and that box opened, if there was any open to it! I expect Cy’s going to march ahead of Ed all his life?’ ■twenty years have truth of the words, for while the boy who “made his own tools” is rich, his brother is still an ordinary workman.

WOMAN AND HER WAYS.

WOMAN'S LOVE. THE following from a woman's letter should go to the heart of every man: "What a deal that companionship means! That companionship between a man and a woman that grows sweeter and stronger and stiller as the months go by. I say stiller, because as two people learn to know each other and to read each other’s hearts, tlwy do not need to speak every word; a look tells. And this companionship is no more possible between two women than it would be between two parrots. It is formed of a man and of a woman. lam very conventional, my friend; I hope you are, too. I could not love any woman in the world as I could a man, and I couldn’t sacrifice for any woman in the world what I would sacrifice for a man. The good God made us that way. He didn’t make us to waste our love letters and our coquetries and our hearts on other women; they were intended for men. "Sometimes the man takes the heart and cares for it and loves it until it beats with pride and joy and love for him; sometimes he takes it and slights it and forgets it and hurts it, and it beats with love for him just the same; and the brain that belongs to it comes and says to it, “He doesn't think, he doesn’t know,” and the heart excuses, and grows broader and more charitable and kinder; and some day. when it ceases to beat, everybody knows then what a dear, loving heart it was, and most of all its loss is felt by the maa who neglected it”

Novelties in Neckwear. The two collars are of white linen and are worn with wide soft cravats of silk carelessly knotted. There are for wear with shirt waists or tailor

gowns. The elaborate stock and cravat has a linen standing collar closed at the back. The silk cravat is drawn through a jeweled slide in front. The Young- Housekeeper. “The true advice to give a young, restless housekeeper is to put more mind into her work; to find in her daily occupation studies interesting and important, which will surely conduce to her own benefit as well as to the well-being of her household,” writes Katharine Roich in the Ladies' Home Journal. "She may easily fill her mind with the annoyances, the disagreeable and monotonous details, the confinement, the interruptions of the dally life, but by intelligent use of her time, by systematizing her work, by simplifying her manner of life, and by resolutely seizing her opportunities she will find time for favorite studies and for interests outside of home. Let a woman gird up her intellect and courage—she needs both —to the high office she accepts. Let her not be anxious, but cheerful, striving every day to make her work more complete, more perfect, and to win from the daily care the refreshment which she needs. While she may be often weary she will not then be restless nor discontented, realizing that she has Secured in her home some of the things best worth striving for. And her friends will see in her own intellectual life and character a richness and sweetness of which she may be quite unconscious. For in the quiet of her home, with its thinking and planning, and working, the bearing of many cares, and loving, unselfish ministrations for others, there will spring up in herself sincere, generous sympathies, sound judgments, and cultivation of mind and spirit which will prove her best reward.”

Do Not Refnae the Offer. Never should the mother, through that foolish desire to keep her child as long as possible dependent upon her, or that worse pride which would show itself to be self-sufficient, refuse the proffered help of her child. If she is doing something in which, from the nature of things, she cannot share, let her be careful to substitute some other loving service while declining the one proffered, remembering that love turned away nourishes selfishness, and proffered help refused begets idleness. She may have to say, “No, dear, you cannot help me to dress the baby,” but she can add: “You may hand mamma the clothes.” The Answering of Letter*. Time was when men and women took letter writing very seriously, and sat down to the desk as if. to an important task. The scrawls of the modern girl; her hasty dashing off of an epistle to

catch a post; her dozen notes scribbled in hot haste and illegible penmanship, sealed with sprawling wax. and dismissed with a sigh of relief, would haye filled a young woman of Jane Austin's day with unfeigned horror. Apart from the stilted style, by persons who bad the courtliness of their period and its leisure, without the inborn grace of the raconteur who is of no period, but belongs to all time, the epistolary remains of the last century and of still earlier centuries, possess an interest which we shall vainly seek In the annals of onr own day when we come to search for them in letters. Cowper. Mme. de Sevigne, Mary Mitford. the ladies of the Hare family, Mrs. Browning In a yesterday just past, and others, whose memoirs form part of our literary wealth, are good examples of the perfect letter.— Harper's Bazar.

Are Labor Leaders. Miss Martha M. Hohmann and Miss Marie Geiger have distinguished themselves as labor leaders in Cleveland. Miss Hohmann was recently nominated to the position of vice president

TWO LABOR LEADERS.

of the Central Labor Union. Miss Hohmann is well educated, and an accomplished young woman. Miss Geiger was instrumental in organizing the Garment Workers’ Union. Raised with Rouge. A writer In the Louisville Daily News gives the girls this sensible hint: “If there is anything that makes me tired it is to see a pretty girl ruin her complexion with rouge and powder and kalsomine and other truck. 1 saw one at a summer opera the other night who made me rage. She was naturally a pretty girl and had a fine figure, but one forgot all about those things when he came close to her. The natural timings of the flesh were not to be seen and the tender curve of the cheek was bedizened with rouge and paint, as were the pretty lips. I felt like taking that girl to a lagoon, dipping my handkerchief in the water there and giving her face a good oldfashioned scrubbing. No wonder so many girls have skin trouble. They rub enough stuff on their faces to kill any skin,”

A Charming Blouse. There was worn at a smart "at home” the other day a charming blouse of rose pink silk muslin. There was no yoke at the back, although this blouse was really a transparent shirt worn over a slip bodice of pale green glace. The back and two fronts were filled in with six groups of tiny tucks, crossing each other diamond fashion, the spaces between the groups being filled in with large diamonds of delicate white lace, from beneath which the pink mousseline had been eut away. The sleeve was of the coat type, tucked all the way down, the tucks separated by straight rows of lace insertion. The tucked collar was unlined and showed the gleam of the green glace beneath 1L

Pompadour with a Parting.

For Nervons Headache.

Sufferers from nervous headache seldom find any actual cure for their trouble, but there are certain remedies which alleviate the pain. Most of the so-called "headache powders” have a dangerous effect on weak hearts, and therefore cannot be recommended except in special cases. A safe and simple remedy for general use is to be found in horse radish. Scrape a little of the root, hold it in the hand a few minutes to warm it, and then snuff it energetically. The sensation for the moment is unpleasant, but it la worth while to endure a monetary twinge In order to secure immediate freedom from pain. Meed es Ootdoor Kxerciae. Let your children have plenty of outdoor exercise, especially in the evening. Wait until they are really sleepy before you send them to bed. Let every child have its own bedclothes. Vary the child's diet with the season. Let them avoid all greasy-made dishes when it is too warm to take much outdoor exercise. General Marcus P. Miller la a great smoker, yet never had a Manila cigar between his lips until he reached the Philippines. The annual production of cheese in this country is about 280,000.000 pounds.

BIG ARMY FOR OTIS.

Tm Additional Regiments for Bervlc in the Philippines. Formal orders were issued Thursday by Secretary Root directing the organization of ten additional regiments fqr service in the Philippines. President McKinley gave his approval of Secretary Boot’s decision to organize this additional force and approved this recommendation in the matter of regular army officers selected for appointment as colonels and lieutenant colonels of the proposed regiments. The result of the Secretary’s decision will be to give Gen. Otis a fighting force of 1*2,451 men, distributed as indicated tn this table: Regulars, including 5,072 en route and 2,801 about to sail 30,423 Organizing in Philippines (two infantry and one cavalry regiments, volunteers) 3,865 Ten infantry regiments, volunteers organized in the United States. .13,090 Ten infantry regiments, volunteers, to be organized in the United States 13,090 Officers 1,983 Aggregate combatants for Philippines 62,451 In addition to this force it is proposed to increase the hospital corps in the Philippines to 2,000 men, and the number of medical officers will be inefeased so that Gen. Otis will have an army of practically 65,000 men. With this number Secretary Root is confident—and his confidence is based upon reports from Gen. Otis—that the Manila commander will have a sufficient force to suppress the insurrection during the coming fall campaign. The enlistment of the ten additional volunteer regiments will make the total volunteer force in service number 30,507 men, leaving but 4,493 men of the 35,000 authorized uncalled for, and the total strength of the army about 95,000 men.

DEATHS WILL REACH 2,000.

General Da viaße porta Appalling Condition in Porto Kico. The appalling conditions existing in Porto Rico were made more fully known to the War Department Wednesday by Gen. Davis in a dispatch which says the deaths outright in the island will reach 2,000. while many are dying daily from injuries and privations. According to a special cable from San Juan, Porto Rico, hundreds of people are dying of starvation on the stricken islands. The dispatch gives new details of the recent hurricane and describes the terrible scenes witnessed in the Bayamon and Arecibo districts. Arecibo was devastated by the hurricane and later was Hooded by the Arecibo and Manati rivers. Two hundred bodies have already been recovered and it is thought that hundreds more of persons missing have been swept out to Sea by the flood. The town was inundated to a depth of six feet. When the water subsided dead bodies were found everywhere. They were buried where they were found. The town is now filling up with starving people from the rural districts.

THE SHOOTING OF LABORI.

It assuredly cannot harm the cause of the accused. —Washington Star. It is to be hoped that it was merely the act of an individual assassin.—New York World. From this distance affairs seem to have assumed a very serious aspect.—New York Times. Assassination crowns the edifice constructed by forgery and perjury.—St. Paul Pioneer-Press. The omens are ugly, but this shot heard round the world may prove the salvation of the republic.—Philadelphia Press. It now seems impossible that the Dreyfus matter can be disposed of without the spilling of more blood.—Boston Herald. It supplies just the element that was lacking to turn public opinion strongly in favor of Dreyfus.—Buffalo Express. The assassination of Labori is quite in keeping with the whole course of the persecutors of Dreyfus.—St. Louis Post-Dis-patch. Labori was too well versed in the details of the case, Labori knew too much, Labori had to be removed. —Cleveland Plain Dealer. It needed but the hand of the assassin to give the finishing touch of crime to the accumulated infamy of the Dreyfus case. —Rochester Herald. The blood of Labori will speak for the cause he championed far beyond the reach or compass of his eloquent tongue. Record. France is under a most threatening x cloud and the-' army, the most corrupt army on earth, is the cause of it all. — Kansas City Times. It is not easy to believe that justice to Dreyfus could, at this late day, be again turned back at the bidding of a bullet.— New York Mail and Express. It will be impossible to convince the public that this deed was not inspired and procured by persons interested in the reconviction of Dreyfus.—Atanta Constitution. Little else, except an attempt upon the life of Dreyfus himself, could be so certain to convince the people of France that Dreyfus is innocent.—Boston Advertiser. The attempted murder can hardly fail to arouse a still stronger public sympathy for Dreyfus and Labori’s prediction may be fulfilled: “I may die from this," he is reported to have said, “but Dreyfus is saved." —Minneapolis Tribune. The attempt upon the life of Labori reacted, of course, instantly, and with irresistible force, in favor of the man whose cause, despite obloquy and abuse, he has championed so ably and so courageously.—Boston Post. Demoralised as the French army maybe, it has not reached such depth of degradation as to tollrate as brother officers men suspected of being partners to a crime so infamous, one against the prisoner at the bar of justice.—Boston Transcript. With assassination an actual Incident of the trial, with duels, persecutions and suicides playing prominent parts In its preface and with revolution a terrible possibility ot its finish, is it any wonder the world’s eyes are focused upon France?—Cincinnati Commercial-Trib-