Jasper Weekly Courier, Volume 23, Number 15, Jasper, Dubois County, 25 March 1881 — Page 3

WEEKLY COURIER 0. D0AXK. Publisher. JASPEU, - - - INDIANA.

WIND fAMTASIUS. 0 wild and woeful wind! Omm for on moment thy ooropiainlaa: dreary, J,b4 Ui m If tktm art sot and and weary, lad if thy travel w not lotur .l rii wim mna wuw Wlodl 0 iMMMatCM. bOMMtoM Wltld! it wrtngi my heart to hear thr rad lameotlns". Jlnst thou h wound whose pe4n knows no rlenttnjr, Canst iimr kr thy burden by rptrtlnf 0 nOUMtMM, kOBWMlM wtndt O and and mournful wind I rrotu what wild depths of human pain nnd Coow'sTthou Umm tone of restless amrufah borrow Mot. aoul that dreams of no to-wonrowJ 0 sad nod mournful wind! 0 olttfitT wind! Wa know not wbeno tbou eom'st or whither Wbenjeead our homes thy wlaera blast tbou Jo bom, nor abetter, won, poor pilgrim, know?--0 Miliary wlndl Most mctenebolr wmd! Ml loturto knowXtt tbou a wild and weary peaxnoe dote nitar tlM tone wilderness tar war nurau Chaaad by the aeoret of thine own undoimr pursuu in xeu i ma; I knur to know. Hast tbou no other rotee. Jfo worda to wMsoer tkr moat nriarons atorr, wberetbou dtd'st lose thine aneJaut crown of Jtr om wert baolabed to these doaarta boary Hast tbou no otbor veto? O, thou arttteree and wild! Thy nightly obariet tbrouttatb bbwk akla Imblnp, The olond shapes round tb mountain-summits The wavaaof1 weean round the wraakod bark omablmr 0, tbou art fteroe and wudl Yet, art tbou full of woe. Tsfehnuoat tbou. wart north's antral, wbon was isjnneB Jht's lurid torch, and jul bar bowam bUabted. Tby poor baart by tbat awful aboek benighted, Tbou art so full of woe. Hast tbou no bop, no hope? Tbat tby poor, weary ptntou tbou art flbtftaeT inawyt tba atnr-paved ioor, wMb aeboea not"Of aneeT footsteps and their ambem al aster Hast tbou no hope, no hope? And bast tbou never board Tbat Mna wild torch ta oueuebed In blood npswrw ewepn w - oven tnspon not vajwanwvnrnran aaa aawnaan naaotna:, And MoT todays to eonaa Creation's groanhwr wm sea, and rapture All the pines of moaa lut0, bast tbou never beatdf Hut tbou wilt one any bear! ar Noaven and Harm will stand In atleat WbanLbea unites wbat Sin batb rent asunder, Ann thou wilt tbat day m Hoaven will ait be Joy, LmA lk nbu. ,. 111 - - - amgwrm m mj nmium, wh n . naif iwti-twi , And tbou, perobanoe, wilt none o'er Life's full In liearen, where all m Joy I TUC FAITHFUL OWMT. Some yanrs ago. wbon I, Jack Hilwnrd, wna a school-bor, I booatna rraat friencU witk a jroung French fallow MtaMd Henri Dumas, who bad boon Mitt to Eajrlnnd to learn Enrlish. He wore than once spent his holidays at our house, for bis gentlemanly manners and warm, honest heart mauie my par ento as fond of him as I was, and they 1 ways made him welcome; and not only hittuolf, but a large, beautiful pan iel, that be had brought from France as a puppy and kept in stable near the school all the time he waa in Bttglnnd. Faucbette," as he had Jtattted her, was his consUutt eompnnIon out of school hours, and the lore Ijetweeu her ! her master was so jrreat that when Henri came to star with ms Fanchette wm always Included In the invitation. Hot school-days, like other days, past away, and Henri returned to France, and 1 went to Oxford with the intention of studying for the law. Henri and I exchanged letters for a while, but we both hated letter-writing, and gradually we gave up our correspondence not, however, from anr forgetfuinees of ch other, but simply because we were huty with our pens. I left Oxford in due time, and it was arranged that I should spend a few months in traveling on the Continent. I went to Italy and Egypt, and on returning through France I remembered ray old chum, Henri Duma, and the promise I had always made to him, that if I went ftbrid I would pay him a visit at his perenl' abode, at a place called AimerYUie, not far from Toulouse. Thither, then, I turned my steps, hoping tbat I wight be fortunate enough to find him t home, and feeling rery secure, if so, of a welcome from hint and his parents, who had been warm in their acknowledgments to mine of any attention hewn by them to their son while in Railway were then unknown in those part, except on great highways, so 1 look a lumbering sort of vehicle at Toulouse and drove for about four miles, when my driver pointed out the house to which we were going, at the same time informing me that it had been haunted of late, and that one or two servants had left in consequence. Jie said he had been told by one of them from her own lips that sheer terror had driven them away. I had heard that there was a good deal of superstition in this part of the country, and remembered radons amusing tales Henri sed to tell mi when a school-boy about ghosts and spirits horermg about .some ruins in their neighborhood tnies which need to make me always rather glad to keep lost to mv school- - "tP"1 "w ne suki seen storyJadwe fjyfaUhiUUtiwfeifl fanasal ssnblsuasnf nanbana T

1 thine a lequMMao sr the dead and dy1a, Or art tbou some despairing spirit aiftktiuf O'ttr a ktft PamdhHi behind tbeelytuff Moot Melancholy wind t

ssw it was an old chateau, part of which seemed to have been taken down and was in process of rebuilding. We drove through a straight line of trees up to the front door, and I sent in my card by the old man-servant, who looked as ancient as the house. In a few minutes I was ushered into a large sitting-room, and received the most oordial of welcomes from both Monsieur and Madame Dumas and their daughters. But wbat of my old friend Henri? I scarcely dared to say bis name, for I saw tears falling from his mother's eyes, and they were all in deep mourning. Alas! it was soon explained. Henri had met with an accident about six months before. A eonsklerable part of the house was being rebuilt, and be had mounted on a high scaffolding to speak to a workman. His foot slipped, and he fell to the ground, ana was taken up senseless. The head was so injured that recovery was hopeless. He lingered a week and then died, without having recovered consciousness. I need not say how this news grieved me, and how truly I sympathised with the sorrowing parents and sisters. Feelings of delicacy made me propose to leave very soon, but they insisted on my remaining at least that night. "We have out poor accommodations to offer you," said M. Dumas, "for the greater part of the house is uninhabitable at present, and we are driven into a few rooms in the east wing; but if you will take us as we are, we shall prise your company for the sake of our poor Henri, who often spoke of you, and of the kindness shown him by your parents.1' So the carriage was dismissed, and I became the guest of Monsieur and Madame Dumas, though with a heart so sad that nothing but the fear of wounding their feelings could have induced me to remain. " And now," said M. Dnmas, " I most tell you that I have only the choice of two sleeping-rooms to offer you, neither of which will, I fear, be comfortable, for different reasons. One is that which belonged to our Henri, and in which he died; the other is a very small attic scarcely fit for a visitor: yet, unwilling as I am to propose putting you here, you may perhaps prefer it to the other, when I tell you that ever since Henri's death it has been reputed to be haunted. Strange noises are heard there night after night. There is no denying this fact, for I have heard them myself from outside the door." "And has no one slept there?" I asked. "No one has courage to do so," replied M. Dumas. "In this part of the country the people are easily alarmed at such things; indeed, two of my domestics have left me in eoosequoaee of what I have nientioned." "If you have no objection to my occupying poor Henri's room, I would rather have it than any other," I replied. The fact was, my curiosity, though not my fear, was aroused; the more so that I could not but see that my host was himself convinced that the room was haunted by hut son's spirit, and however dear he had been to him in life, he had no desire to continue any intercourse of this nature. " I will order it to be prepared then," he said: " I see you are a man of stout nerves." "I am not in the least afraid," I reElied, " and I shall like to sleep where ienri did. We were, just like brothers at school, and he so often spoke to me of his home that I feel almost as if I were no stranger here." Mv host took me into the grounds. During our walk Henri's old favorite spaniel, Fanchette, came up. I remembered her directly, and she appeared to recognise me in a manner, for she smelt my coat, and ended by licking my bands. 4 'Poor Fanohette?1 said M. Dumas, "the blow of my son's death fell heavily on her; she has never been the same dog since he was carried to the grave. She was, as you know, his constant companion, and now she roams about caring for no one, and unable to rest anywhere for long together. She will not come into the nouse as formerly; it has no attraction for her now her mas

ter is gone. She prefers the stables, where she has attached herself to Henri's horse, by whose side she sleeps at night; for her howls were so distressing after we were all gone to bed, that she had to be sent every evening out of hearing. I tried to eoax the affectionate creature to follow us in our stroll, but she would not come, and walked off in another direction, with a languid, drooping air Very unlike the buoyant, frisky Fanchette of former days, M. Dumas pointed out to me various improvements he was making, especially in the house, where they were adding several rooms: but he remarked that he had comparatively little interest in what was being done, now that he had no son to inherit the property, which was entailed on male heirs, and would therefore go to a nephew of whom he had hitherto known but little. When I was shown to my room I looked round me with very saddened fellings, for there were so many things to remind me of Henri his caps; the Eicture of our school-house, where we ad spent many happy days together; and, what was touching to me, a likeness of myself, framed and hung on the wall. When bedtime came I saw looks exchanged between Monsieur and Madame Dumas, and he former asked me If 1 were sure I had no misgivings about steeping in a hanuted room, assuring me it was not too late to change my mind and go to the attic before named. "I feel," said he, "as if it were eareely hnapitahls te allow ym to ssown m arvvai sa wsnvn smj snoejaajsr Of

this household would dare to do so. Hew member, the bound spoken ut are no tradition which have oouie down from ancestors, and which may or mtv not be true, but they bare been beard only since my son's death not, it is true, every night, but so often that the chances are yon will not sleep undisturbed." I do not at this distance of time mind confessing that 1 felt lees brave at this hour than I had done in broad davlight; but not for anything would 1 hate owned this to M. Dumas, who. finding 1 was resolved, lighted my candle and accompanied me to the room to see that everything had been provided for my comfort. As soon as he was gone J examined the apartment minutely. It was of large size, with aa old-fashioned French bedstead and curtains, a chest of drawers, aod numerous chairs. There was a huge folding screen at one end, and thither I carried my candle that I might look if any second door were behind it; but no, 1 could see nothing bat the wall, which was papered with a dark green and yellow flock paper, making the room look somewhat gloomy in the light of two candies. I was tired with my journey and not sorry to get into the very comfortable bed. I had had a momentary parley with myself as to whether I would keep the candles burning all night, but felt rather ashamed of letting it be seen that I had done sof yet I defy any one not to feel arther glad to draw the bedclothes snugly over him when, he first finds himseu in the dark in a room reputed to be haunted! I did not get to sleep immediately 1 could not keep my thoughts from going back again and again to my schooldays, and to many a well-remembered incident connected with my old friend: but at length I lost ooatsckmsness, for bow long I do not know, but I was suddenly aroused by a noise in the room, and I was aware of the presence of some other than myself. I ant up in bed and listened. It was no dream, no fancy, tbat there were footsteps; they were in the direction of the great screen, and I fancied the sounds came from behind it. To say that my heart beat quite as cabal as usual would not be true; on the contrary, it went very fast, indeed, especially when a minute later i distinctly heard something

breathe, and the steps approach the bed. Another moment, asai I felt the bed-curtain being not only touched, but. as it seemed to me, actually shaken, for the rings at the top rattled on their rod. My situation at that moment was not an enviable one altogether, but I summoned up my oourageaud called out, "Who are your No repiv, but I tlKNurht I heard the sound of footsteps as if retreating the bedside: the next momeat I felt something or somebody spring upon the bottom of the bed, out of which I as quickly darted, not being at all desirous of sharing it with my unknown visiter. I struck a light, the candle burnt dimly for a moment, only allowing ase to see that something black lay on the counterpane, quite motionless; but oa approaching it the mystery was unraveled. My nocturnal guest was no other than poor Fanchette, who was crouching down on the bed and looking at me with a timid, suppliant sir. as If to say "I know perfectly well I ought not to be here, but do not be angry with me." How had she got in? I had so carefully searched the room in every corner that 1 felt certain she was not there when 1 first came to bed. Surely she must be the ghost that had so upst the nerves of the whole family. Yet M. Dumas had said she slept in the stable by the side of her friend the horse. How could she get through closed doors and windows? J However this might be, it was cer-; tainly a relief to nnd I had so harmless a companion. Fanchette licked my hands and settled herself still more PCS olutely on the bed, from which I bad no wish to dislodge her. Again 1 put oat the candle, and anin 1 got into bed. and soon fell asleep, nor did I wake till early morulas, when 1 was aroused by Fanchette jumping dawn oa the aoor and upsetting a little low stool, with a candle on H. which I had placed by the bedside. She made her way across the room to the screen, behind which she disappeared, and my curiosity made me follow her. To my surprise she made a sudden dart at the wall, which to my still sleepy eyes appeared to open aad allow her to pass throuth, and then to close again. A minuter inspection showed me that there was a door there, covered with paper like the rest of the room, which worked on a spring, aad though it opened easily with a sudden push, instantly closed again, and flttad so perfectly into the wall that its existence could scarcely be detected, it led to a flight of stone steps that a later exploration made known to me led into the courtyard of the house. When I descended to the breakfast saloon I observed by the countenances of the family that it was a relief to them to see me appear alire and well. "Have you been disturbed F" inquired M. Dumas, anxiously. " I have had aa adreuture," was my reply; " nay, more than that, I hare had a companion all .-vat, but it was ao one worse than poor Fanchette, who took up her quarters with me." Then I described all that had passed, and how the dog had taken her departure early through the invisible door la the wall. "I had fora-otten the existence of that door," said M. Dumas, "nor had I aay idea that K was unlocked. It ha beea unused for years. It was made by a ocmer oooupantoc mis house, wao aseei KdaWat hnhn thn mm WhtniaBt sjnjarWPwf emaWPs sjBjBsnj. ssanaTsepent WT'hsnrsnTnrej

disturbing the fasnitr. as he was a rery early rknr. and liked to he out at suav rbm."

I suspect." said I. "that FsmcbeOe asjmt discwrbor of tha hue, for by the way in whicL sb cause in and settled hernelf I am sure it was not her first vbh " We examined the door. The woodwork was old. and had socrambhad away aroand the part into which the lo.k shot that b ao longer eonllaed the bolt. Although the key was turned, the door opened with a push; and as the door was a swing one, it closed instantly again, fitting so close that no stranger's eye would detect its being there at alL "I think I understand It all now." said M. Dumas. "Fanchette need to sleep here always with my poor not allowed to eoase into the after he died because she howled much after him. But we were by the man who has charge of the stabloe that he locked her hi every night with the horse and released her in the herar Anxioas to unravel the mystery, west to the stabioi and spoke to tha who told as that Fanchette waa atalways in the stall with tha horse he closed the door lor the nkrht aad in the tame place whan he earns ia the morn big. hi there ao war. ne which she could go mr Hone, sb." vans the reply. Bat adjoining the stable was a sort af barn or bouse re which hay was kept, aad at the back of a great pile of bay I noticed a window with a wooden shatter drawn only half across, and while I was coajjectariag: whether it would be possible for Fanchette to sqaeese herself through, she decided the question herself by suddenly appearing aad springing throuch the window oa to the hay. The ease was dear Turned oat from her beloved room into the stable, the animal had discovered the door in the wall by which she could go to her old quarters aaobserved ueder cover of the night. She had doubtless gone late for fear of being discovered aad tamed oat, and the same instinct made her return to the stable early in the law. The noises is the bed-ch that had caused so much sJarnt doubtless occasioned br Fanchette walking about and shaking the rings on the rod round the bed, i the ease when she sprang on the bed or moved ia her steep. Hearfs slippers and boots bad now aad then beea fnuad pulled out of a cupboard, and one or two other things belonging to him had beea ntoved front their places, much ta the dismay of the terrified femmt densjsinirt'. who was conviaeed it was the work of spirits. Little had it been supposed that the paaie was pans ad by the sorrowing aninMcbngutgothe spot whets Jber everything n mindsii her of hint. Who eaa.say want pangs of grief were felt by her when she took oat the shoes aad boots, no longer fat use. yet well remembered as oeiag on the feet at which 8eMB neesi eJflr Cjjptntsnl sSfcema1 lot 5nV jamuap'sjfie usapossible to sound the depths of a dog's uatare. So the mystery was cleared up. greatly to the satisfaction of the whole faaailr. I had to leave them fat the afternoon, and the last that I bade adieu to was poor Fanchette. who was standing at the gate as 1 drove out. looking up whafutty at the carnage, as thoagi she bad a hope her lost master might be ia it. I ww M. Dumas abouttwo years Faucbette was dead. She was suffered to spend her nights hi the room she loved, bet she gradually drooped aad pined away, and at but caught a severe cold, which, ia her weakened state, ended her life. I could not bat feel gbtd that her devoted heart bad to beat. HVdbjr Wtlcome. new use ssr asnfuanx savs: We have shown a xeodel of aear of aa iron rim of saves diameter by one-half inch thick, fitted with a well proportioned hub, the space between the hnbjtnd rim jfilied with we are ready to believe the aasertioa that resting the iron rim upon bearing, a pressure equal to twenty-three tons applied to the bub failed to dereiop aay stges of weakness. We hmitatt ht these days of progress to assert that earthing is impossible, aad we begin to think that even sawdust posisseat elements of value hitherto unsaep acted, aad that the day may come when the filled grounds adjacent to all sewmilta may be seen to have a great valae in the mechanical development and utilisation of the now useless drorw placed noon them to get it out of the way. Sawdust car wheels, sawdust brick, sawdust fence posts, railroad ties, and even sawdust window and door frames, wainscoting and moldiagi, begin to appear asnoug the possibilities of the iminediate future. The burg of Maryhill. Scotland, fat overrun with rats. They are actually running about by thousands, OaeshopkeejwrOled lJemfam shop hmafortnht A entry keeper says that the rata hare killed mid eaten fanwtsen young pigs and tarty fowm belonging to him, leaving nothing babind bat a lew weU-piekejtMsme. ence to find the caps of gfass famTaf fruit so firmly screwed on that they cannot be renaored by the hand. A cloth clipped in hot water and applied to the ontseseef theenst wiH cense It to anK Win

raWIU A3 UTOABT. -Mr. William lTHoereUs has

umed the editorship of the mtU9. X conference of burfhm and publisher is to be hadd te the Anieriena arnpnaali si eoxrrrurht. Lieutenant aVhwatkm h hook about his Arctis i is a truest of Ueaara eraor's Ishtad. - Caataia L F. sails between Masr Yovfc saut has been a sailor for thirty-three j TboeCarkdt Intho MilL Fmsrooa, Pteki eetherwith ramiaisHsni si af hat onto, and malarial far a nasanair af hh wife. stifxiban lnrsn ta weff nsissVsi ueoaFraeklm boaare. one of the iwiaiiiifnl part i la The first Greek T on this coatiaeat by noted old printer. Tbosnas. of Wt tar. Mass.. fat 1MQ. Its Vi City Ubraryhas m copy of it, anwd by sat to Esncrson and has in it Edward Stramss, tha eoamtry ht June, ftt" the Court balls fat Yissnm, aad is ago. Aaunaberof tea by George Bant at thai age often tr. have jest been broaght te ttght oneem. . j.ney ase m ue Masnaamsoael " lJannh in that town, and to Mrs. Euaabeth Evans aad Mr. aad thsMDlnsm1lMmV Bode ' of her for his employers. He mamaaof geeel mind and strong Ihnbv and has nnnsf. an his stria from tb He a easap bekmgiskg to at neon one ear. nnd all but esse of tha kajgan gave haartv wshams. refented stars and fannuni Wbolessssk -Stranger. I've been achsnaj far a fismJsjWl een pemwa) m(a J)(nm Jaa?(BBnB aJenieJ ami JsmT fatar Immt tafl aasWmne) ejnp njssnnsj , "I've s a great hamharian, mnhnr pitch and teas with yon, snadif -veeeart ma before I mueh anr dinner rati heaveyon ever tha shsnty a 1 xae lmrestsr didn't ran werttt cent, When he saw that a : eritabie he restored his wst shed his erercont and was in: trim when the logger got : awav. As the bauhr eaa was neatly knocked down. Be get i with a gria and meat down ssmsa. T third time he got np he sat down en a log to collect kM ideas, auadwhen the ana ret nrnea to nan ne earexany preached the Dslruilpr saai said: "ntoDoc yon area j Xo," "Xe? " Orcnlt rhtorP "So." "Tract distribmtorr -Xo: lama bookke play of LsahaShiagm, all "Pat it thar!" sent the held out his hand. rxe al no ffarht. but I took yea fior i ym'aad stand solid with the bejh will yon dome a farocf" Yes.1 1 "AH right, rat jtohng to tel the ! bora that you ace Tent Ssveea. saut don't yen deny It! Carrying turn eyea around tins enmiiforths: night will be jpief leg that I got tun from a a bated skirt aad a any IsmMsaml The sttraethre bythe ladies of FistasC tTsamhPBeVe Chorea Inst i have j she to seven, after which an , spent ht soctobihtv. The af i the evening the I The oqaad ladies an of twstre ! focused apaeeprhatoxjr, red, whits Mae alternating at the ranks, tniatuaaii of Csptsrin Corn T. with Una may Jtfnahtp The brooms were ail red, white aad bine ribbons, anal as the) hwfiee marched with gar color fryhup, koetnhtf perfect these with tbetapof haa they )isssnriet oane a After the nsnat by She word of of the silent driO which was trehr ehme of the drill the brsanctioa L-Jewetf

descijibsd as rery best

to be a far aware spirited lesmmr Jnhan 8txaass, whs waa here a

They are p arm led by deep xefeaa seaJmnssat, aad betray a keen mudetjr lii2LurfBt'"kVi!SJfcr DAe

ready te heave

5?

eveaafasg drew hmphmr a a. Tea was served treat