Jasper County Democrat, Volume 3, Number 7, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 26 May 1900 — Page 2

Ttsr ARK! |m| That high, clear, vibrant note, •inking through the alienee like a •word of sound! “There!” cried Jack Harrowsby. “They ’re starting up. That’s Kipperton’s fills. He’s going to play ‘Columbia.* ” “No,” decided old McClelland. “He’s Cit a-tunln’ np. I don’t remember to over seen so many folks cornin’ Into town. Jest look at that Kansas hill, an’ atang by tiM railroad track. Like as not they’ll be full fifteen hundred at the grove. “Bure! They’ve got the flag strung acrost the street. It’s gittin* wore.” "It oughtn’t to. It ain’t out but Decoration day an* Fourth of July. But the winds la hard on it.” It was a fair day—a fine daly. A day fit for the flag to float high, for music to resound, for prayers to arise, for the loyal living to honor the valiant dead. A day of blue and gold—of soft breezes that claimed no kinship with fierce midsummer winds. Rain had fallen in the night, and •ven yet upon the roadside grass it glittered, a delicate, brilliant web, fine as lace upon a lady’s gown. “There’s John Harriston gittin* out of his old buggy,” commented Harrowsby. “I wonder he ain’t ashamed to own such a lookin’ trap, with all the money he's got" “Yes, an’ here comes Thorn’s carriage from the other way. Thorn’s the only farmer around here that keeps one. I don’t say he ain’t right to git some comfort out’n his life.” The Thorn surrey rolled down the street. On the front seat sat a heavily built, auburn bearded man. Beside him was a white-bloused boy. On the back •eat was a pleasant faced woman, and beside her a slender young, girl, whitedad from her head to her feet. Mr. McClelland shook his head. “They •pend too much. They’ll wind up in the poor house!" “Oh, I guess not,” laughed Harrowsby. “Any one who picks up Ed Thorn for a fool is goln’ to drop him mighty quick. He can afford to spend some. Of course Barrlaton la wuth as much again.” "Don’t look like it!” clicked out the ■ndertaker. It didn’t look like It. One would never have imagined the gaunt old creature, fumbling over his broken rope harness at ths side of his ramshackle vehicle, the poMeasor of more worldly wealth than ths prosperous appearing man driving by at ease with his handsome family. One likeness, however, in common they had. Both wore the army blue. “They’re both good haters,” went on ths speaker. “Them two men come to thia country pretty soon after we did. One of ’em must be here nigh on to thirty years, an’ they’ve never spoke a word to each other In all that time. From the same town back East, I’ve heerd, an’ fit in the war together—same reg’ment—same comp'ny!" Mr. McClelland nodded. “I remember. Thorns come several years after. An’ to think of them two eatln’ the same dinner, •a’ drivin* to the same funerals, walkin’ fa the same Fourth of July procession, or like now in this here Memorial day parade—even havin' the same politics, an’ never as much as a civil word between ’em. I wonder what caused it.” “A woman, I’ve heerd said.” “The town’s fillin’ fast.” It wm filling up fast. On every road leading down into the peaceful valley trickled people on foot, on horseback, in buggies, and in wagons. There were burly farmers, greeting neighbors, talking of crops and weather. There were women with children in their tired arms and dinging to their gowns, some alert, more •tolid, but almost all in their appearance •f premature age and weariness, giving evidence of overwork and latent depression. The Grand Army hall was only the upper floor of an abandoned and dilapidated building, used as a furniture shop before the town boom had burst. But the men who came down the rickety steps scaling the outer wall were the units who made the magnet of attraction. These men termed in line on the broad strip of the •treet, Intervening between their occa•kmal quarters and the livery barn. The rtirrtag notes of the fife rang out, and the beating of a drum throbbed upon the air. The blue-clad ranks formed. There was ths bent old body, the square, firm face •nd the floating white hair of the father. Beside him tramped his son—spare, sinewy, upright, but perceptibly lame in one leg—th* leg which had been presented at fihiloh with a much-prised bullet And one was pounding, and one was blowing, each with vigor and enthusiasm. Up the main street they marched, perkape two-score veterans in all, the colors •f their country and their post ahead, the ■uric rising bravely In their midst. And, •ide by ride, as It chanced, in the parade were the two men between whom for so many years a bitter grudge had lain unbolted—John Barrlston and Edward Thorn. The summit of the Incline was reached, and the wooden church which rose from a •weep of rocky soil. Horses and buggies were hitched all along the rough fence. Th* foreground was crowded with people waiting to see the veterans pass in. Then there were prayers and hymns and addreeee*. The latter were delivered from behind the dividing rail where pictures of

TWO DECORATION DAYS AND THE TIME BETWEEN

BY KATE M. CLEARY

the heroes of a great conflict hung fa State. For the women of the Relief Corps, who had marched derp the street in the rear of th* men, had beggared the little town of Ito glowing peonies, its heavy headed snowballs. Its pungent southernwood, and starry syringas, and red honeysuckles, and the first white, scented catalpa branches to do honor to the occasion. And here again, side by side, were the two men, who, fast fettered by a childhood and youth of friendship, had gone forth to war together. The services were over at last, and the crowd in the church poured out into the sunshine. Again fife and drum made martial music. The brief journey to the cemetery was begun. It was here, after the stiff wreaths and crosses which the women had brought from the church were duly distributed and speeches made by some of the old soldiers, that John Barriston first caught a glimpse of the young man who had come late Into church. He stared in astonishment—strode towards him. “What has brought you back?” he demanded. “A row,” replied his son. "I’d a fight with one of the fellows at college. I was in the right, but I did him up a bit worse than I meant to. I thought I’d better come home until It blew over." The old man choked with rage. “And It’s for this—for this—l’ve toiled ’for you, and slaved for you, and all but starved myself for you. How—” he was choking in his wrath—“how dare you?” “I dare a good deal—sometimes.” * Just then a girl brushed by them. Her gown caught on the point of a stone. She stumbled. Involuntarily Mark Barrlston extended his hand to aid her. She shot him a swift glanee. In that look was recognition and a certain startled, pleased surprise. Then she had passed on, and Mark Barrlston stood hat in hand staring after her. “Do you know who that is?” “It’s Edward Thorn’s daughter,” said John Barrlston slowly. The hoarse voice shook over the words. “You must never hold word with him or his, or ” He lifted his <reat rough hand to the dazzling sky, with a mighty oath, “or else you go yeur way, penniless and poor, save for my curse!” “That’s unfair!" flamed Mark Barriston. The old man’s blood spoke then. “It’s unjust! You read the Bible—and you hate your brother. Tell me why!” But the passion of his father had spent itself for the time. He looked suddenly gray and stricken. He turned and walked unsteadily away to where the close, sharp spikes of an iron railing kept jealous guard over the narrow mound it inclosed. All other boundaries in that sunny little city were of wood, but these John Barrlston had deemed too frail to keep the world apart from her—the one woman of his love, whose life had been a brief •nd unsuspected tragedy. “Poor father!” The young fellow, looking after the lean old figure—seeing the gnarled fingers clutched hard around the iron spike on top of the railing, felt a fierce ache in his throat. He turned—went away. When Mark Barrlston—straight as a Norway spruce and good to look upon—striding home in the sunset light, came upon the wrecked carriage of Edward Thorn, he was hardly surprised—only moat absurdly elated. Obviously, he could not pass on. He might not take the wholly disinterested credit accruing to the stray Samaritan, but mere courtesy demanded that aid be offered. And since Mark Barrlston had been away at college he had learned a lesson which prairie people are slow to appreciate—that while kindliness, however gruff and sullen, is good, courteous kindliness is infinitely to be preferred. And so he uncovered to the ladles in the carriage with a grace that was pleasing as novel to the farmer folk, and offered his services. And when he had gone to the nearest farm house for rope, and had helped to splice the pole, •nd all was once more in readiness for the homeward drive, he would have turned •way but that Edward Thorn, putting out his hand with a word of thanks, detained him. “Thank you much, Mr.—Mr.—you are a stranger hereabouts, I judge?” * “My name la Mark Barrlston.” “Mark—Barris—O!" He leaned more heavily over the side of his surrey. Twice the lipa set in the blonde beard opened—twlee closed without speech. His eager look dwelt hard on the boyish face uplifted in the mellowing light. “I might hav« known,” he muttered. And then he said slowly: "Her eyes—you have your mother’s eye«s!” “My mother!" echoed Mark. “You knew her—you knew my mother?” “Well, my boy. “Better.” he Mid, and so low hie voice now ho might have been communing with himself, “better than any one else!" / There was silence. A chill stole up from the draw below. A gopher rah •croM the road, frightening the horse which had broken the pole. An anxious voice spoke from the rear seat. “It to late, Edward. “We’d better go on.” "Yes—yes. Well,” to Mark, "I’m glad to have seen you. I suppose, ’’ with some hesitation, “I- can’t ask you to come to our house?” *Tm afraid not, sir.” Ha moved a step backward. The elder man sighed—a wistful sigh it sounded. When Mark reached home he found his father sitting reading by lamplight. The, book was the Bible, his only literary posseMton. The deep cut lines of the old face seemed deeper, the stern mouth more Inflexible, the keen old eyes more relentleesly penetrating. "Tell mo about your quarrel, lad,” he ■ld. Mark told Mm. not sparing the other man, but equally outspoken in regard to hia part In the affair. There wm a long silence when he had finished. “Weill" he asked at length. “ ‘Air eye for an eye,’ " Mid the hard old voice. "*A tooth for a tooth.* You’d better take that north farm. Try It until faU. You can go back to college then. The man there needs looking after.” “I hate farming.”

“Perhaps,” dryly; "but »man must work with his head or his hands. It isn’t every one who gets the chance to choose.” The following day Mark Barrlston unpacked his books and set himself to study furiously. Bat how might one study books when day by day nature turned over a fresher and still more enchanting page of her own Inimitable volume? But, it was not wholly the charms of nature which made Mark Barrlston change his mind about accepting a temporary residence on the farm in the North belonging to his father. It was quite casually he learned that this farm which his father had but lately purchased was near another belonging to and occupied by Edward Thorn. He told himself he would not attempt to see Delila, but it must be admitted it was a little difficult to avoid doing so when he was obliged to pass her home every time he went to or returned from town. The romance was an innocent one, and as sweet as it was innocent. Rambles along the creek—a search for the latest flowers—the steadying clasp of a hand in abrupt descent or ascent—the discovery of mutual tastee—snatches of song—the flutter of her saah ribbon against his hand—silences embarrassing but delicious; and—that was all. Only Edward Thorn used to remark Co his wife that really that girl Was growing too pretty to be useful, and the man on John Barriaton’s north farm averred he “never seen that kind of a farmer afore,” It was he who blunderingly precipitated the climax of the situation. He had ridden over to John Barriaton’s relative to a shipment of cattle. “You’d better go through to Chicago with the stock, Dan,” his mart er said. "My son can attend to things until you get back.” . ... "He can, if he takes time enough from pickin’ posies with Delila Thorn.” “What!" screamed John Barrlston. “What!” “I didn’t think, sir!” Dan had shambled up aghast. "I forgot the bad blood atween ” "Saddle my horse—quickl Thia minute! Quick! Five minutes later*he was riding north at breakneck speed. * Mark chanced to meet Delila at the abandoned bridge down by the walnut grove, when his father came tearing along. But when that father dropped from his sweating horse, so shaken was he by passion—so racked by rage—he could not utter one syllable. “What—what is the matter?” Delila turned appealingly to Mark. She had never been told of the enmity between the houses. “Never mind—now. Go home,” he said in the tone of authority no man dare use except to one woman, and she that one to whom he is most madly enslaved, most willingly subservient—she who holds his life in her fingers as one may hold a rose. "Stop!” cried John Barrlston. He burst out into a storm of abuse of his son—her father—herself! There was no stemming the tide of his fury. It came down in a sweeping flood—a partially incoherent fury, it is true, but none the less overwhelming—resistless. Once Mark strove to speak—twice. In vain. Suddenly he turned—held out his hands to the girl. He had never spoken one word of love to her. He spoke none now. But there was that in his eyes which no woman needs words to interpret—a look that was at once a surrender and a demand. The old man saw the gesture— mw the look. A silence fell upon him. Indeed, there was no sound betwixt earth and sky just then save his heavy breathing. Mark put his arm around Delila, drew her to him. And he faced his father, not irreverently, but fearlessly. “She has done you no wrong, father!" he cried, “she—nor I. You said you would curse me. If you must—curse us! We can bear It better for sharing it!” Again, as that day in the cemetery on the hill, John Barrlston lifted hia hand aloft. A little, fluttering cry broke from the girl. “Papa—here Is papa!” And there, indeed, stood Edward Thorn. He saw the young people. He saw the gaunt old form towering before them. He saw the hand uplifted in wordleM malediction. They heard one wild word — mw Mark Barrlston spring forward. Then the old man, tottering down, was caught in the strong arms of his son and lowered to the ground. His face was purple. Hia teeth were clinched. There was a foam on his lips. Although Barrlston was borne at once to hia eon’s bed, although the physician drove over in hot haste, and all was done that could be done, it was many months before a gleam of consciousneM Irradiated his countenance—before he gazed intelligently into the faces which came and went at his bedside. Delila was sitting with him one radiant January day. Her right hand held a book. She felt a touch upon the left which rested on his coverlid —a caressing touch. "A pretty hand.” she heard a voice murmur. “Annie had pretty hands. Annie ” Ths murmurous sound trailed off into silence. And he slept. In March John Barrlston was moved back to his old home. He was warted, frail, patient to the point of pathos. He heard all his son had to say on business matters, gave replies that were ctear and logical, but left to Mark every arrangement—every decision. In April, when ths Hlac trees in the front garden were purple add fragrant, he went out for the first time. Mark drove him. Neither spoke of the winter passed—nor of what had led up to his selsnre. In May he wm able to sit out on the front porch—hte one book on hie knee. On the morning of Decoration day Mark wm surprised to find him up early and dressed fa hia old uniform. "Why, father,” he cried, “you can’t think of going in to the ceremonies.” "Not into the hall— dot to the church — no. But you can drive me up on the hill, and I'll wait there until they come.” John Barrlston could see the black dots

before the old Grand Army HaH merge fa a close, black phalanx. He could see the farm wagons piling down, as he had seen them often before. He even fancied he could hear Kipperton tuning up hid fife and see the old man handing his hat to a bystander to be cared for until the drum “was made go like she ought.” A sense of serenity came over him as he looked down and away, one hand gripping the iron railing. Mark Barriston, turning his team into the livery barn, looked arotfnd at sound of his name to find Edward Thorn at hie elbow. "How’s your father? Where is he?” "Up there.” He motioned towards ths hillside. Thorn turned past the hotel, the lumber yard, and the little lumber office. Around the sweep by the railroad track, across the lines, up the hill opposite—on he went. Through the gateway on the right—and across the worn path to where by the quadrangular Iron railing a man sat with bowed head. “Jack!” It was the old name that leaped to hi| lips. The other looked up. '• "Ned!” He rose trembling to his feet “Let’s talk it over. Jack. I never meanj to do so. I thought she—she might not wish it. But I think she’d rather ws would, than that our children—yours and mine—should suffer.” “Yours and mine!” Then the old Bap riston vindictiveness came back fa all its strength. “Mine shall not suffer. Why should 1 care for yours? You know what you did, Edward Thorn. Played fast and loosd with the woman you loved—the woman 1 loved!” “I don’t know what you mean,” said Edward Thorn. “I’ll tell you then.” He wm trembling still, but his grip on the railing helped to support him. "The day we marched forth to fight you told me Annie Lester had promised to be your wife when you came back. You knew how I loved her "Loved her—then?” Thorn’s voice wm a husky whisper. “No—no!” Barrlston stared at him a moment Then he went on. “That’s all right. It doesn’t really matter what you say now. But you know how you acted down there fa Virginia. The disgraceful scrapes you got into—the dishonor you brought not only upon your own name, but upon that of the woman who has been rash enough to promlM to marry you!” “Yes,” Thorn said slowly. "Yee, I dirt all you say—more. I wm young. Pm net urging this in extenuation. But ** he paused, fumbling In hia breast pocket, and extracting one yellow slip from a package. "I wish you’d look at this. It was after I had got this that I Hold on! Have you finished?” “Not quite. Then you went home—you remember? I staid away. I couldn’t go back and see Annie and you ” “Well, what then?” “Then —Jack! Do you think I’m Imbecile—pr delirious yet? Then you jilted her—flung her over as heartlessly as a man flings aside the woman who has loved him. There is no comparison to be made. The whole town was talking of your conduct when I returned. But you had gone. You coward!” Edward Thorn took one step—then stood quite still. “Will you listen now?” he asked. "I did love Annie—yes. And I did many things I am ashamed of in those old army days—that Is true. But that I ever of my own accord broke faith with Annie—no, John Barriston—no!” Barriston laughed—a harsh laugh. “Go on!” he said. "Perhaps,” Thorn rejoined, “it would be better If you were to read this first.” He held the slip of paper toward him. Harriston unfolded it—read it. Ned, dear, forgive me. Yon wilt I know. I did encourage you—yes. I did let you speak. I was even so wicked as to answer you •• you wished. But I didn’t care for you —I have never cared for you—in that way. I only did so to make Jack Barrlston under stand that he—O, I don’t know what I wanted him to understand! Anyhow, he never spoke. And now that the war is nearly over and you are coming back you must give me np. I can’t give you up, because my fatherwell, you know how stern he is and how he has set his heart upon our marriage. Bui I’m afraid to oppose him—and I*l] marry no man while Jack lives—so pretend that you wouldn’t , have me. O, do, Ned. And after awhile, perhaps. Jack—but, no—he doesn’t care—■ ANNIE. It was a long time before either spoke again. The procession had left the church, and one could trace its sinuous progress through the town. In silence Barriston handed back the letter. "I wiah you had known it always, Jack,” murmured Thorn. “The pride of a woman,” muttered Barriston. “The stupidity of a man,” said Thorn. There was the roll of vehicles up the hill—the tramp of feet The veterans filed In the gate. The little doctor came forward in all his gay regalia. Delila Thorn knelt beside Barriston. She comprehended the broken sounds he made. "The letter—with you? Yes—you shall have It always.” The band played on. The doctor put a professional forefinger on the pulse of the prostrate man. He rose—spoke. Hf could not make himself heard. “Men of the Grand Army of the Repub lie,” he essayed again. “Your comradeJohn Barriston.” The music swelled aloft, martial, triumphant But John Barriston did not hear.

The Grave la My Heart.

They are covering the graves of our heroes With the loveliest flower* they can bring. And ths tender memories mingle With the fragrant blossom* of tprlng. For the grave* belong to the nation; Bhe claim* and make* them known And she count* among her heroes He who once was mine alone. Ye*, they cover the grave* of th* brav* one* With tender and reverent hand. And the low and mournful mualc Steal* soft forth o'*r the land. x They cover the grave* of our soldiers, Each on* in hl* place apart: They cover th* grave* with the flower*— What shall cover th* grave in my heart? The faith In hl* wisdom and klndne**. Th* knowledge of Infinite love. The trust fa the hand that guldeth. The comfort that come* from above. The memory of day* he wa* with me Ere th* pulse of my heart seemed stilled. The treasure that heaven now holdeth Because of hl* law fulfilled— These blossom* shall sweeten and hallow, With their silent subtle art. And heap up their blessed comfort; They snail cover the grave la my heart. ■ Invention* that have been patented fa the United State* for not more than one year may also be patented In Canada. A patent will be refused fa Canada if the United States patent te more than one year old.

POSTALFBAUDSGROW

ARE SAID TO EXTEND THROUGHOUT ALL CUBA. American Officer* Amazed at the Ramifications of the Alleged Robbery—The Havana Postmaster and Several Subordinates Flaged Under Arrest Further investigation into Ijxe defalcation in the department of posts in Cuba haa brought to light a shortage in the Havana postoffiee, and Postmaster Thompson has been placed under arrest. Deputy Auditor of the Island W. H. Reeves aud two of the Cuban stamp clerks have also been arrested, and more arrests are likely to follow. The frauds are more extensive than was at first supposed. It is stated that there is a shortage of SB,OOO in the Havana office. Some of the men are believed- to have been implicated with the ring in handling the stolen stamps. ——---r— — The ring supposed to have been headed by Neely probably made its thefts through the stamp channel. They represented stamps destroyed at SIOO,OOO more than actual value, and then secreted that amount in new stamps, which were deposited in the place of money every month when the returns came from the island. Balances were thus kept correct, stamps taking the place of money in the vaults. When the auditors examined the sales of stamps from Matanzas and other stations the amount was found much larger than that credited of cash or stamps on hand. The military authorities are now getting returns from all stations of stamps sold to compare with Neely’s books. In this way the approximate amount of the alleged defalcation will be found. Neely could have put up a strong defense that his balances are right and that it was simply a mistake in crediting sales if hia confederates had not confessed and turned over $5,000 in stamps. It appears that the frauds ramified in almost every possible direction. Evtn the rented boxes have been made a source of illegitimate gain. Every additional revelation increases the amazement ot the Americans ' in Havana. Mr. Thompson, in telling of his offense, signed a sworn statement in which he says that Sept. 16 last, being in need of money, he took from the money order funds $435, giving his memorandum as a receipt for the same. When the inspections were held Mr. Thompson ordered a clerk in charge of the money order department to place remittances received that day, which would not have to be accounted for until the following day, sufficient to cover thj amount of his receipt, Which was therewith withdrawn until after the inspection. This was kept up until April 7, when the special agents unexpectedly discovered the receipt, which Mr. Thompson then paid. It is asserted by lawyers that on Mr. Thompson’s own statement he is liable to conviction for embezzlement, according to the provisions of the postal law, which are very explicit. JPostmaster General Smith to a Washington correspondent said that the dispatches from Havana aud other publications concerning the defalcations in the postal service there are very much exaggerated. That a considerable amount of money has been stolen is, he says, unfortunately true and a thorough investigation is in progress, but the disclosures up to date do not justify the sensational reports that are in circulation. It is asserted tha> the prosecution of the offenders will be carried on with all possible energy.

Side Lights on. the Boer War.

What struck one of the special correspondents with Lord Methuen’s force invalided home was the uncanniness of the whole thing. There is no pomp of war, no stirring music, no gay uniforms, and, strangest thing of all, no visible enemy. What you see from the standpoint of the British staff is a number of men clad in khaki dodging their way up the hill, making for cover wherever possible. Two or three of them suddenly drop, perfiaps one gets up and presses forward again. The others lie where they fell, dead or sorely wounded. As the Boers always fire from cover and use smokeless powder, there is nowhere sign of them. A story comes from South Africa which speaks well for the constancy of the British soldier. Among the wounded brought in one day from Potgieter’s drift wa* * man of scanty clothing who held something in his closed hand. He had kept bls treasure in his hand for some eight hours. He showed it to the sister at the hospital. It was a ring. In explanation he said: “My girl gave me this ring, and when I was hit I made up my mind the Boers should never get It, so I kept it in my hand ready to swallow it if I wa* taken before the stretchers could reach me.” The wounded British soldier* often amuse themselves during convalescence by knitting and doing similar work. At The Gables, Surbiton, Eng., which has been opened by it* owners, Mr. and Mr*. Alfred Cooper, a* a convalescent home for returned soldiers, one man knitted a pair of stockings for his baby in a day. Others knit for themselves and tfheir wives, and a favorite article is a Berlin wool belt bearing the name of the owner and that of the action in which he was wounded. In st least one respect Gen. Cronje, the new Napoleon at St. Helena, will be better off than the one whose fortune was finally overthrown at Waterloo. The island has just been connected by csble with England and the Cape, so that the exiled Boer leader may keep in touch with current event*. A letter from a private who was on duty when the Boer prisoner* reached Cape Town says: "The nearest simile I can give you of their general qppearance is that of a whole let of bricklayer* coming from a brickfield after a hard day's work'. Some looked at our boys with a defiant gleam fa their eyes, paying particular attention to our lances." In shelling Ladysmith the Boers knocked off regularly for meals—the luncheon Interval being 11:30 to 12 for riflemen and 12 to 12:30 for guanera

COMMEPCIAL FINANCIAL

New York—There has beeu.praeticallj no change in the situation this week. As the summer season approaches the trn eral trade movement becomes eomev i slower, and there is also less activity ii speculative circles. The demand foi money, both for legitimate business’anc stock market purposes, is comparative!! light. In well-informed quarters the bejj lief is growing that the decline in cj Y modify prices has about run its edurffe In the stock markets the liquidating movement has been less pronounced, anc in consequence there has been some im provement in tone. Trading, however is still on a small scale, and almost en tirely of a professional character. The public is not in a mood for speculation and until its temper, changes there doe; not seem to be much prospect of a sus tained upward movement. Chicago—The tone of the graVn marketA improved during the week as the weathel changed from good to bad for the crops! The northern part of the spring wheaf country is badly in need of rain. Opiniori of conservative people in the affected dis| tricts is that no harm has yet been don® that cannot be repaired by rain within « week or ten days; but so long us it' keepl off, just so long will growers of the grain express anxiety, which in its turn will prompt the speculators to anticipate th threatened-calamity. The previous flour ishing condition of the winter wheat ha been arrested and a change foi the worsi commenced. The Hessian fly pest ha spread to regions not previously affected aud excessive rain has been added to th affliction. Kansas has been the princi pal sufferer in the latter respect, ane there is no longer a prospect of that' State raising anything like the phenomenal cro| it promised as lately as two weeks agd Illinois, Indiana and Ohio are sendini daily accounts of growing damage by th! fly, while Tennessee is finding each da! fresh evidence of the spread of the sam| fatal pest. I

FILIPINO BANDS ROUTED.

Americans Severely Punish Insurgent] for Various Attacks and Atrocities, j The Filipinos who killed nineteen sol diets of the Forty-third infantry at Catil big, island of Samar, and had 200 ofl their number killed while assaulting th| heroic garrison, have been further puil ished. Maj. Gilmore of the Forty-thing with 100 men, chased’ the remainder c| the insurgent band to Pambajan, whera the Filipinos made a stand. They werl scattered by a series of charges, leaving 75 dead on the field. The Americans hail one man wounded. Chester Kennedy of Company F, Foil ty-fifth regiment, United States army, i| the Philippines, writes home that oiil soldier of his company who was kiltej was buried near by. The natives dug him up, cut out his heart and placed j on a pole, with a notice that all Amer] cans would be treated likewise if the! did not leave. The body was buried an] dug up again, and this time fed to th] hogs. The bones were recovered by th] soldiers, who were then sent to burn th] town and shock the natives, ten of whoil were killed. Capts. Elliott and France, with eight! men of the Fortieth infantry, have has an engagement with 500 insurgents fl Agtiian, near Cngayan, in the norther] part of Mindanao. The rebels lost fift;| two killed, and the Americans two killel and three wounded. The infantrymei captured thirty-one rifles and a thousanl rounds of ammunition.

THE GRANT STATUE.

Grand Army** Gift to the RepnbH Unveiled in the Capitol. • The statue of Geo. Grant, presented I the Graud Army of the Republic to tl nation, was unveiled in the great rotunc of the capitol at Washington Saturdt and elaborate ceremonies coimnemoratb of the event were held in the Hall of Re resentatives in rhe presence of a vart co; course of people, who included the wi< ow, daughter and descendants of the het of Appomattox, hundreds of his comrad< in arms, the officers and committee of ti Grand Army of the Republic and mat persons distinguished in military, politic and social circles. The statue of the pre-eminent chief < the Union forces in the civil war repr sents the contributions of thousands ■ his comrade* of the Grand Army of tl Republic, no one of whom was allowed subscribe more' than 15 cents, and is tl result of a movement started soon aft Gen. Grant’s death at Mount McGregc in July, 1885. I't is the work of Franklin Simmons, t American sculptor. Of marble of hero size, it stands on a granite pedestal er blazoned with a bronze seal of the Grar Army of the Republic, and represent* tl grim old hero in the full uniform of general, equipped for the field, with t« boots and gauntlets, hl* cloak over b left arm, hia right band resting on tl hilt of his sword.

News of Minor Note.

New York ice trust has raised pric from 30 to 00 cents a 100. British Columbia kicks against the b Influx of Jap* at Victoria. Building trades of 'Frisco want Co gre** to paw a Japanese exclusion act. Opposition to Bishop Sbarretti, H vana, baf* died out. He is very pop l*r now. Havana police force will get an ovc hauling. Thieve* and murderer* n rampant Said that Columbian rebel* have pn chased a torpedo boas and will soon r tack the city of Sabnnllla. Martin Everett, an American, get* years in the pen at Vancouver, B. C., f robbery. Pope Loo has appointed Very Re Benj. Kelley, bishop of the diocese Savannah, Ga. France ha* appropriated 0,000,0 francs for strengthening Fort du Fran< Martinique island. Policeman at Cape Town waa misfa en for Premier Schreiner and assasrini •d. Said to be anti-Dutch plot. More than three Inches of rain fell two hour* at Longview, Texas. Maj bridges and culvert* were washed awa