Jasper County Democrat, Volume 18, Number 23, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 23 June 1915 — Page 7

Do You Want Lightning Protection? I have been in the lightning rod business for 15 years and during that time have never lost a building by lightning. A five-year guarantee with all rods. If interested ; .cajl and see me or phone 568.—FRANK A. BICKNELL, Rensselaer, Ind. ts Five different grades of legal size typewriter paper kept in stock in The Democrat’s stationery department. Also abstract and legal document backs, printed or blank. Don’t paj fancy prices for your typewriter paper when you can buy it here of 'as good or better quality for much less money. Our typewriter paper is put up in boxes of 500 sheets, but will be sold in smaller quantities t' desired.

EDWARD P. HONAN ATTORNEY AT LAV/ Law, Abstracts, ileal Estate Loans Wifi practice in all the courts. Office over Fendig.’s Fair. RENSSELAER, INDIANA. SCHUYLER C. IRWIN LAW, REAL ESTATE & INSURANCE 5 Per Cent. Farm Loans. Office in Odd Fellows Block. RENSSELAER, INDIANA. GEORGE A. WILLIAMS LAWYER Special attention given to preparation of wills, settlement of estates, making and examination of abstracts of title, and farm loans. Offiee over First National Bank. F. H. HEMPHILL PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON Special attention given to diseases ol women and low grades of fever. Office over Fendig's drug store. Phones: Office No. 442; Resl , No. 442-B RENSSELAER, INDIANA. E. C. ENGLISH PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON Opposite the Trust and Savings Bank. Office Phone No. 177. House Phone No. 177-B. RENSSELAER, INDIANA. JOHN A. DUNLAP LAWYER (Successor Frank Foltz) Practice in all Courts. Estates settled. Farm Loans. Collection Department. Notary in the office. Over State Bank. Phone No. 16 RENSSELAER, INDIANA. F. A. TURFLER OSTEOPATHIC PHYSICIAN Graduate American School of Osteopathy. Post-Graduate American School of Osteopathy under the Founder, Dr. A. T. Still. Office Hours —8-12 a. m., 1-5 p. m. Tuesdays and Fridays at Monticello. Ind. Office 1-2 Murray Bldg. RENSSELAER, INDIANA. H. L. BROWN DENTIST Office over Larsh & Hopkins’ drug store RENSSELAER. INDIANA. J. W. HORTON DENTIST Office opposite court house square. RENSSELAER, INDIANA. B m n Up ™ /-i Anvone fending a sketch and description mar quickly ascertain o-.r opinion free whether r : invention is probably patentable. Comt-iuni - tlonsstrictlyconflUentLl. HANDBOOK onPa'cnta sent free. Oldest necncy for securing pater ‘3. Patents taken tatouch Munn Sc Co. receive special notice, without charge, in the Scientific American. A handsomely illustrated weekly. Largest circulation of any scientific Journal. Terms, 13 a year: four months, IL Hold by all newsdealer-. MUNN & Co. 3t ; B''« 8 ''«> d -” New York Branch Office. C 25 , pt, Washington. D. C. CHICHEBTERSPILLB TIIE DIAMOND BRAND. A Ladies! Ask yonr Druggist for A\ C. U {ENA Chl*ches-ter s Diamond mils in Red and Void metalliAV/ Vv boxes, sealed with Blue Ribbon. wl Take no other. Boy of yonr » r/ ~ fW Druggist. AskforClll.cnfes.TEßS I W IV DIAMOND BRAND PILLS, for S 3 \ff JS years known as Best,Safest, Always Reliable r SOLD BY DRUGGISTS EVERYWHERE

0(1(1 nilrc J! Du Hu The Democrat keeps on hand a number of legal blank forms, such as are endorsed by prominent attorneys of Rensselaer, including the following: Contracts for Sale of Real Estate. Warranty and Quit Claim Deeds. 1 Cash and Grain Rent Farm Leases. City Property Leases. Notices (cardboard) for posting for Road Supervisor Elections. Chattel Mortgages. Rlease of Mortgage. Assignment of mortgage. Real> Estate Mortgages, long or short form. Special price on quantities of 100 or more made up of different blanks. Price mailed postpaid to any address (cash with order) for any of the above, two for sc, or 25c per dozen (except long form Mortgages and Grain Rent Farm Leases, which are 60c per dos. or 6e each.)

STRANGER

He Formed a Plan Which He Carried Out Successfully.

By F. A. MITCHEL

Martin Yalkier was a grape grower In the north of France. Though be lived 200 years ago, his vineyard has remained a vineyard ever since. Martin's daughter, Marie, was a lovely girl of nineteen. In the autumn after the grapes had been gathered and pat through the wine press her father always gave a fete, inviting his neighbors, and Marie, dressed in the costuma.of. the period, was regarded as the prettiest of all the girls who danced in the great room over the wine cellars. One autumn a young man from Paris attended a dance given by Marie’s father, saw her and fell violently in love with her. Marie was pleased to make a conquest of one from the city, but. being a bit coquettish, oniy half encouraged him. However, she at last reminded him that a French girl did not dispose of her hand; that rested with her parents. The young man, taking this for consent, went to Yalkier and asked for Marie’s hand.

"I don’t know you, monsieur,” said Martin, “or anything about you. What is your occupation?” Jules Gamier, the person in question, had not cared to give his real name, and he did not now care to give his occupation. Nor did he wish to admit that -lie preferred to withhold either. The stranger prevaricated. lie said he was an artist, and so he was, for he was a man of great versatility, but this was not his profession. He possessed a gift that had made him celebrated in Paris, though it was not of such a nature as would extend his renown to the provinces. The old man then asked him if he had any fortune, and Jules admitted that he had not more than 20,000 francs ($4,000), which was a beggarly sum to put up for the daughter of a prosperous wine grower. So the suitor was rejected. He said goodby to Marie, who was loath to part with him, for she had been more impressed by him than she had realized. But she could not give herself to him without her father's consent and her father had declined his proposition. Not long after Jules’ departure the wine grower was riding on a road leading through some wooded property he owned and which he thought of clearing to add to his vineyard when he heard a shout for help in a thicket Dismounting, he went to where the sound had come from and found a man who had been stabbed to the heart On looking closer at the body he saw that the murdered man was Francois Mareelle, a former workman in his vineyard, with whom he had had an altercation and whom he had discharged. It occurred to Martin that if caught over the body of Mareelle, with whom he had quarreled, he would be suspected of the murder. He hurried back to his horse and was mounting him when he heard a voice almost beside him say: “What is your hurry, my friend? Wait a bit I have something to say to you. I heard a cry for help a moment ago, and now I find you coming from where I heard it in hot haste. Have you had a fight with any one?” Martin was so impressed with the danger he was in that he stammered in his account of what had occurred. The man proposed that they go together and have a look at the body. Martin reluctantly consented. Indeed, had he beyu guilty of the murder he could not have demeaned himself in a manner better fitted to indicate his guilt. He was pale, trembling, and h's teeth rattled with terror. During the day the body was removed, aud at nightfall gendarmes came to Martin Yalkier’s house and arrested him for the murder of Francois Mareelle, and, there being no jail In the vicinity, he was removed to a neighboring town. The public prosecutor entered a charge against him., and a day was set for his trial. There was never a plainer case based on circumstantial evidence than the state against Martin Yalkier. During his quarrel with Mareelle he had been heard to say, ‘‘Go away from here, and as yon value your life never again set foot on my property!” The man he had met when coming from the thicket testified that he was in great excitement. The trial was brief. Notwithstanding that the accused was a prominent man in the community he waa adjudged guilty and condemned to death.

Martin’s jailer, having little to do, occupied much of his time in working out chess problems, for he had a great fancy for the game and played so well that he could not find an opponent worthy of his skill. One day he was sitting over a chessboard trying to checkmate himself in a definite number of moves when a young man entered. “You are, I beliete," said the newcomer, “the person who has beaten every one of your neighbors at the game you are studying. I have some skill at chess and have sought you out, thinking I may learn something about It from you.” ‘Yon are only too welcome,” replied the Jailer. “There are no chess player* in this town. i have tried all who

pretend to play the game and Have a*?* rived no pleasure from playing with them. You see, I'am reduced to working out problems.” “I, too, sometimes amuse myself in that way” said the stranger, and, drawing a chair to the table on which the board rested, he began to set the .pieces. ■ . f . The first game the jailer checkmated his adversary in j eight moves. The stranger seemed very much pleased with his opponent’s plan of attack and asked him to go over the moves again that he might leqfrn them. In the second game the jailer had more trouble, but in the third he won easily. “I think I would play better for a stake,” said the stranger, and. taking a gold louis from his pocket, be laid it on the table. ’ The jailer looked at the shining piece covetously. He was very poor, but he had enough to cover that lonis. aud he covered it. The stranger played badly and lost Two other louis went on to the table, and four louis were transferred to the jailer. Two more were ventured and lost. The jailer won, and the stranger instead of playing better for a stake pTayed worse." After several hours’ sitting fifty louis had gone from his pocket to that of the jailer. Then the stranger won a game. The jailer doubled the stakes aud lost agaiu. After this the stranger played better and on certain games where the stakes were doubled or tripled won back nearly all lie had lost. The jailer began to get excited. In spite of certain blunders his opponent seemed to be constantly getting the advantage. YYhen at last he saw the fifty shining gold pieces go back into the stranger’s possession he was beside himself with rage.

“I have no further stake.” he said. “Have you not some article," said the stranger, looking about him, “that I would accept for a stake?” But he saw nothing of any value. The jailer urged him to accept certain articles of furniture, but he declined them all. Finally he said: “Have you any prisoners?” “One.” “On what charge is he confined?” “Murder. He is to be executed next week.” - “Ah, a life!” “Yes; a life. The prisoner has offered me money to release him.” “And why did you not accept?” “It would be my ruin.” The stranger seemed lost in thought; then suddenly he said; i “I will give you a chance to win 100 louis without taking any risk. You are a good fellow, and I have learned much about chess from you. I will stake 100 louis against your prisoner that I beat you three games in succession. In the first I will checkmate you in ten moves, in the second in nine and in the third in eight moves." The jailer’s eyes were big with wonder. “If you could do that you would be Gamier, the great chess player of Paris.” “Did I not say I wished you well?” “You are very kind, monsieur.” “Come, write out an agreement to release your prisoner on the terms I have made,” and the speaker began to set the chessmen. This was too much for the jailer The stranger was willing to present him with 100 louis for the instruction he had given him. On the terms it was impossible that he should not win. He had beaten his adversary most of the games. His losses had happened to come on games where the stakes were high. What the stranger now proposed was impossible. When the chessmen were set the stranger placed 100 louis on the table, and the games began. To the jailer’s amazement his adversary checkmated him in ten moves. Perceiving that something was wrong, the beaten man would have backed out, but the stranger reached for the order for the prisoner’s release and held it “Proceed,” he said. “If I lose a game I will give it back to you,” - ~ The jailer’s only hope being in the opponent's failure, he consented. The stranger won. The jailer lay back In his chair and gasped. “Shall we play the third?” asked the man wK" had cojne to learn chess. “No. Ton are Gamier. You can win without moving a piece.” The stranger put the order for release in his pocket and shoved the hundred louis over to the jailer. “I am ruinec ,” said the poor man. refusing to tou :h it The stranger took out a pocket book and drew from it a large number of bills. “Take this,” he said, “and go to Ylrginla. I will remain in your place till you are safely out of France.” That night the jailer and his family disappeared, and the next day the prisoner, Martin Valkier. turned up in Switzerland. One day the man who had won at chess appeared at the dwelling on the Valkier estate. It looked like a house of mourning, for its head had been condemned to die. The stranger on this account was refused admittance. He then sent to Marie a bit of paper dated at Berne, on which was written: Marie—You have my consent to your marriage with the bearer, M. Garnler. YOUR FATHER. Marie came into the room where her suitor was waiting with a face full of anxious wonder. Gamier told her how he had learned of her father's misfortune and how he had laid a plan to free him, admitting at the same time that be was the chess player who had astonished Paris with his skill and adding. “Nour that your father is safe in a foreign country we can bide our time to free him from this imputation.” The real murderer was eventually caught, and after his confession Martin Valkier returned to his home. But before this the lovers had been united.

A Conversion

A Story For Labor Day

By SARAH BAXTER

"Talk übout the dignity of labor,” said Helen Forsythe to her friend, Lois Gregory. “I don’t See any dignity in it No one can do manual labor without getting dirty hands, chapped hands, misshapen hands.” “There are worse things than dirty hands,” replied Miss Gregory. "What, for instance?” “A dirty soul. How many rich men’s sons who have not the incentive to labor have become worthless and eou temptible?" "1 dare say, my dear, there Tstrutf in what you say, but for me 1 would rather marry a poet than a mechanic." "Even a poet has his uses, but for me he is altogether too ethereal. 1 would prefer an engineer whose pro session deals directly with labor. What is there more splendid than the spanning of a river by an enormous bridge, the building of a cathedral, the tun neling of a mountain?” "These are planned by one brain." "Granted, but of what use would that brain be without the workmen to car ry out its plan?” "Well, Lois, marry in the held of labor if you like. I prefer the fine arts. Give me an artist." "I shall marry the man 1 love, what ever be his occupation.” These young ladies were both of the well to do class, but they were very

HELEN WATCHED HIM WHILE HE WORKED.

different llelen Forsythe was disposed to begin where her father left off. When he had been experimenting in overalls she was too young to know much about what he was doing; now that he was living on the royalties he received from a machine he had contrived, with all the refinements a fine income brought, she had little sympathy with what had produced his good fortune. -, liois Gregory, on the contrary, had never Jpown either wealth or poverty A laborer herself, she sympathized with the cause of labor. She made her living by teaching, and being ac eustomed to using her brain constantly it became stronger with exercise, and she w’as enabled to distinguish between what was of intrinsic and what was o t fictitious value. She had come to the conclusion that the attaining was intrinsic, the attainment fictitious. In other words, there is no stimulus in an accomplished work except to produce something better. The country seat of the Forsythes was situated in a beautiful valley, through which ran a stream that afforded a fine water power. A mile below the place was a large factory. One day Helen Forsythe’s automobile broke down, and a request was sent to the factory to send a man to fix it He appeared in overalls with a bag of tools, and Helen took him to the car to show him the break. There was something about this man that arrested Miss Forsythe’s attention. He was some twenty two or three years old and strongly built, and character was plainly written in his face. Helen pointed out the break, though this was unnecessary, for the young man was a skilled mechanic and took it in himself at once. H£len watched him while he worked, asking him questions about the trouble, how serious it was and how long a time would be required to make the repairs. She noticed a British intonation to his speech, but not the misuse of the letter “b" common with the English lower classes. “Do you like taechanical work?” she asked. “I certainly do. I was born with a taste for it,” was the reply. “But don’t yon think It very dirty?” “Not as dirty as some other kinds of work.”

•lou mean shoveling earth*f"7*ss pose?” "Oh, no, I love to dig in the dirt" "Tou mean handling ashes? — "There’s dirtier work than that Mj brother does it every day.” "Your brother!" "Yes. He’s in politics.” This quite took Miss Forsythe’s breath away. Surely this young man was very odd. She presumed the brother be referred to was a political heeler in a district where the people were of the lowest class. , "Tell me." she said presently, “what it is that interests you in mechanics.” "1 Hfce to fashion things. The mechanic, if he is a good one, may always find a field In Ills labor for more or less use of the inventive faculty, and tlie mechanic is free to exercise it. Besides, there is an opportunity in mechanics for a man to climb the lad dor that leads up to fortune with out using dishonorable means. No man need be happier than the laborer who has ail the Work he can do. His mind is on what he is doing, and lie lias no time to worry about imaginary griefs. When he has finished his day’s work he enjoys bl» -leisure,- - How much better off he is than the man whose time is all leisure, who never experiences the comfort there is in rest because he is always at rest.” Miss Forsythe was surprised to hear tlris from one whom she considered doomed to a life of toil. She was about to inquire of him where be, a laborer, had picked up such ideas when be finished Ills job, gathered up bis tools and. putting them In his bag, bade her adieu and went away. And yet for Miss Forsythe lie did not go away, lie was with her the rest of the day ns if he were still work lug on her auto and she listening to his words. “1 can understand,” site said to herself, “Lois marrying a man like that. There is a healthfulness of bqdy and mind about him that post lively rests me. lie doesn’t seem to be striving for anything. I do believe that lie wouldn’t give up Ills present work in exchange for a fine social p<> sltion. while I—why, if I’m not invited to every swell function I’m miserable.” it was not long before some of tinwater pipes in ttie Forsythe house got out of order, and Miss Helen, being, on account of her father’s absence and her mother’s had health, the director of the establishment, telephoned to the factory asking for a man to repuii them and requesting it to send, if possi hie, the workman who had repaired her car. lie came with his bag of tools, ml Miss Forsythe, as before, showed ■n tlie break. She left him, hut now 1 again returned to see how lie was getting on. When noon came be had not finished, and she invited him to partake of a luncheon she ordered to he prepared for him. While he was eating it sire asked him: “llow is it that you, who have never known what is called high .life and have no experience ns to the cares and disappointments it brings, are so well satisfied with your humble lot?” He had finished eating when tills question was propounded and, rising, stood facing Miss Forsythe, looking at her Intently. “You seem to be Interested in tills matter,” he said, “and I am going to give you a confidence I have given no one else in America. lam the sou ot an English gentleman. My father drsigned me for the army or tinchurch. My brother is in parliament I have watched that silent revolution which is bringing labor to tlie front We see it everywhere. People of refinement are sensible of It. Whereas a hundred years ago to make money in manufacture or trade was not con sidered respectable, now titled persons are going into both. "My preference is for a life in man ufacture. 1 have no confidence In attaining success in manufacture with out ever having been a manufacturer myself. 1 have preferred to begin as any other laborer begins. If any of them beat me In the race it will not trouble me. If I become a leader J prefer to know the feelings, the neces aitles, of the men 1 manage. As to wealth bringing me happiness If I at tain It, I have no confidence that it will. My happiness is in my daily labor. i believe that I get the same pleasure in repairing the pipes in thts house that the manager of a large factory derives from his more extended duties.” Miss Forsythe was astonished. She had been surprised to meet a laborer who realized that he was happier in his work than if he were a globe trotter, but this man, who was born with a silver spoon in his mouth and bad voluntarily stepped on the lowest rung of the labor ladder to climb or remain a fixture, as the case might be, was something more than she could at onc« understand. Nevertheless she was deeply Impressed. It occurred to her to Invite him to dinner to see how he would appear He accepted the invitation and with clean hands. He was invited again and again, and a year after Miss Forsythe had first met him she wrote Miss Gregory that she had been converted to her friend’s ideas as to tlie dignity of labor and had been induced to mar ry a laborer. 1 The bride endeavored to persuade her husband to accept capital from her father with which to start a factory of his own, but be declined. He said that the happiness he derived from labor was In labor and not in management Nevertheless he was rapidly promoted In the factory where he worked and made a manager in spite of himself. Each of the girls who conversed upon the subject of marriage failed to do in the matter what they said they would do. Miss Forsythe, who said she would marry an artist, married a laborer. Miss Gregory, who declared that she would prefer one who builds material structures, married a literary v man.

A Mysterious Disappearance

By MARJORIE CLOUGH

There was anxiety in the Maryweather ‘family, Susan, the eldest daughter, aged eighteen, was missing. She had gone out during an afternoon, telling her mother that she would go to the library and do some shopping. She had not returned to supper, and her mother was very much worried about - her. Mrs. Mary weather telephoned to various friends of Susie’s, asking if site was with them, and received negative replies. The next day an investigation was made as to where the girl had been during the previous afternoon. She had been to the library, where she bad taken out a book, the name of which the librarian did not remember. She hud nut been at any store. The. police were notified of the disappearance; inquiries were made at police stations in neighboring towns, but without eliciting any information, Melllngton. where the Maryweathers lived, was on the bank of a river. On the third day after Susie’s disappearance, at a point on the river four miles above the town, where a boat was kept for ferriage, u book was found on the shore bearing tlie stamp of the Melilngton library. It wns returned to the library by a boy, who told how he had happened to find it and where. The librarian reported the matter to Air. Mary Weather, giving it as bis opinion that It was the book his daughter had taken out of the library. Beyond tracing Susie to tills point on the river the find availed nothing, for there was no other clew by which she could be traced further. Meanwhile every person who heard of the disappearance formed a theory concerning It. The greatest number believed that Susie had been kidnai>ed, hut when a week had passed and no application for ransom had !>een received niany doubted this explanation. Those who adhered to it were of opinion that the kidnapers had found it necessary to their- safety to kill their victim. Another theory was that Susie had drowned herself Under an attack of temporary Insanity. No such mental ailing had appeared in tlie Maryweather family, and Susie had always been considered healthy in every respect. The only symptom t lint tiad been noticed was an apparent preoccupation. Ten days (Kissed and no clew to the disappearance, other than tlie book, was found. Then a man fishing In a boat near tlie middle of the river ten miles below Melllngton enught Ills book in something that he pulled to the surface and found It to be a plaid dress. The^ body of a woman was til ken out of the water that Imd evidently been there a long while. It was very much swollen, und the features were unrecognizable. The hair—the only feature unchanged—was of the most ordinary color. A portion of the dress was sent to Mrs. Mary weather, who at once identified It as one belonging to her daughter or had belonged to her. The mother was positive that Susie had not worn it the day she left home nor for a long while previous. She overhauled her daughter’s old clothes, but did not find tlie dress indicated. The police formed a theory that Susan Mary weather had gone away for some reason not known to her parents; had previous to her departure sent or taken certain clothing, by wearing which her Identity could the better be concealed. While wearing the plaid dress she had committed suicide by drowning. This was a reasonable theory and disposed of the case, so that the police would not need to trouble themselves further about 1L Mr. Maryweather believed that the body found was that of his daughter; but, not wishing to destroy all hope in his wife, he did not press his opinion upon her. She took the ground that the theory of the iiollce was absurd, but she was unable to account for the dress of the same pattern as one her daughter had owned being on the body found In the river. The only hope 6lie had was that some other woman had worn a dress made of material of a similar pattern. No claimant for the body appearing, Mr. Maryweather disposed of it without revealing what he had done with ll It was not treated as the body of his daughter—that Is, no funeral was held since there was no certainty as to Its identity. The day after It had been put away a carriage drove up before the Maryweather home, and who should step out but Susie! She ran into the bouse, flung herself into the arms of her parents and announced that she had been married. Her husband was without, awaiting the result of her confession. Neither he nor she knew that she was supposed to be dead. Susie’s affair had been kept a secret because her lover’s parents opposed his marriage. The day of her disappearance he had met her and persuaded her to go away with him and be married. They had crossed the ferry, and Susie had accidentally dropped the book there As soon as their marriage had been confessed to the groom’s parents and they had been forgiven they returned to Susie’s home. it turned out that Susie had long before given a way the plaid dress, and It had found its way to a town some miles up the river and fallen Into the hands of a girl who had committed suicide. The body had floated down with the current past Melllngton before being recovered.