The National Banner, Volume 9, Number 49, Ligonier, Noble County, 1 April 1875 — Page 1

The atiomal Banmer e ‘Pumlgl‘le@l by Lt . JOHN B. STOLL, LIGONIER,NOBLE COUNTY,IND, ' TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION: Strictlyinadvance......iveeeiiiiiiiiii.. ~$2.00 ¥ Thispaperispublishedonthecashprinciple, itsproprietor believingthatitis justasright for him to demand advance pay, as it is for City publishers, ¥ Anyperson sendi.nﬁ’a. club oflo, accompanied with the cash, willbe entitledto acopyof thepaper,foroneyear.free ofcharge.

S T ; G - O P e \\\ i e T : = . e > e s : T N 8 CTHERE ARE TO-DAY = e ote o . Tach owning and have used the Celebrated . i : : \ Y o i |:::g : : : . £ And, would space permit, we could produce the testimony of those one thousand men, each certifying that they are the I’n-os§« complete implement on their farm and would use no other.

9000 FARNERS IN-XOBLE COUNTA!

Who do not own, and many of this number who have never heard of, much less tested, the supérior mierits of this most popular ldbor-saying implement, atid it is for the benefit of these two thonsand farmers that we issue this appeal to-day. Not for the “ninety and nine” that are g e - safe; buti the one that is “astray” is our motto. _ o

AT THE CLOSE OF THE YEAR 18751

We do not want it said by a single farmer in N_oßle. county that he did Inot, at some time dur- . i ing the season, at least 'TRY one of these €elebrated Plows? From small beginnings in 1870, (the dawn of the great revolution in Plows) our sales have steadily increased year by year urfil 1874, when we sold froin this point alone the unpreceol : hetiint ' den d*num'ber of 385 Plows. S _ Certainly an implement having sudh a wide reputation and giving such complete and universal satisfaction, must possess no orflinary merit,- and what we propose for the year before us, S - asgn years'past, is that every v PLOW SHALL STAND WHOLLY UPON ITS MERITS And not upon mere theqﬁ'y.ﬂ Let fis briefly examine into some of these merits and notice 't}{e‘points of superiority oveér lival plgws * The first, most prominent and distinguishing feature is - Lightness of Draft. - 4 This is not mere tﬁ‘e(n*y ’buﬂtAincOn:)'ox?foi'tall)le,f;stubboni" faét-. Not only}al"e. the Mould-board, Landside, Standard and Points mgde tpon strictly scientific principles, but the metal itself being Chilled admits of a higher -pofish than Cast Iron or ordinary Steel, and is so hard as to completely resist the action of th¢ soil, hence the Mould-board is not cut up with myriads. of fine furrows or grooves, (as in ordinary plows,) causing the dirt to “stick” and thus materially increasing the draft. The slopig landside, the peculiar construction of the point, and the - manner in which it fits up to fhe mould-board, also contribute largely to a light draft. . Aed e -7 Tl second point.of superiority is St b | - Kase of Adjustment. = e Tuking a wide or marrow furrody at will, and by means of a'slotted brace between handles changing from a two to a three-Borse plow in a few moments time; also adapting the plow o perfeetly to.the team aregstrong features which to be appreciated must be tried. ot sy S The-thilrd point of (superiority 1s B . :

| ~~ Ease of Handling. P This is a I>l"(’nuihent)'fenture .ll'ea‘g’ily attested byall who have used the plow; being perfectly balanced, a mere boy can do, s_'uf essful work, and plowing, instead of being a “drudge” as heretofore, hécomes now a pastimg, = It stands to-day the Steadiest Running plow in existence. sl - ._ . The fourth point of superiority is ey SR - Bgst for General Use, I Working,e(ﬁlually well in Sod, Stubble, Marsh, Prairie; hard Clay Soil, or light feathery Loam, : & and WEELYE §EOUBR when ordinary Steel Plows will not. - - b LT e T he fifth point of ‘superiority is g bty e RR B e This is a feature 6f vital ixﬁi)’déﬂilq’e to the fa‘rm‘ing community, and one which every owner | - of 'this Plow fully appreciates. 'We unhesitatingly affirm that this is the -~ -~ . Most Durable Plow Ever Invented. @~ _'l’_’he(Moﬂ\ld-boards of Plows gsééld in 1869 are in use yet, and no perceptible. Wéar is noticed. Remember Bvery Pléw:s Wa.,rra,n’ted fully to Perform as RepreT o ] sented or no Salel - esuln -~ % . 'The Jointer Attachment, %&s geen in .cut,.)b c‘ompletés tl;g m’eriigs of this Plow, which must be tried toé be , appréciatéd.—,‘-—— ‘With it you effectually bury ’:‘le'tu.bble,'Manure, Corn Stalks and Litter upon your fields.— e Wkilen S?d it is u_l;equaled, for completeness ot work, . - - ._‘ ) . , .< : o ;:Eg >~> s‘» ! & : ‘. : 4 S - Don’t Buy a Plow Without a Jointer. If you have no descriptive cir¢ular of this Plow address me, giving name and P. O. address, and one will be forwarde(l"?lm._gnedllately. Ask your Hardware dea%e_:.t‘o send for sample, but DON'T Negleet to TRY ONE OF THESE PLOWS the coming geason. § o Wormaleby . .. March 11th,1876, =~ ¢ . LIGONIER, INDIANA.

Vol. O.

’_[‘[%a ERE ARK TO-DAS’

The Natiomal Ranner.

LIGONIER, INDIANA, THURSDAY, APRIL Ist, 1875,

'ROSALIE . RATHBORNE; ~ SIN AND SORROW. 3 : P -~ : ‘- BY WATTS PHILLIPPS, o AUTHOR OF “FOR A WOMANS SAKE,” “DRIVEN FROM HOME,” “JENNY GRAY; OT, A WOMAN’S ' ‘ : VENGEANCE,” 'ETC., EIC . - ‘ 'CHAPTER XI. =.. _ AFTER MANY YEARS. ° : Twelve years and several months had passed away since «the events recorded in our last ‘chapter. . . Rosalie had, at her own anxious desire, been taken by Clarence Hartley to his estate lin Scotland, soon after the death of her father, which had occurred many months later than had been announced to Rosalig that never more might she hope to behold her little Arthur. heit

Mistress Camelford had long been mistress of all the fortupne which had belonged to her uncle, and still continued to reside in the mansion wherein we first made her acquaintance, and which also had been be.|queathed to her by Sir Jonas Rathborne. The Baronet’s mind had grown weaker as his end drew near, and he had passed away iwithout regret for the wrong which he had suffered to be enacted, because unconcious |of the fearful mischief of which he had permitted the accomplishment. - Adam Burford was now the landlord of a miserable roadside ‘inm, situated = near the mansion where his late employer still dwelt. He had a great speculation in view, and hadoffered to Mistress Camelford, for a rather considerable sum, whish he named, to be paid to him at once, to forego the annuity which’ had been fixed upon him. - : Mistress Camelford had agresd to"her {former agent’s proposition—had given him the sum he had solicited ; and, bya skilfully worded document, had rendered him powerless, should he wish, in any future time, to extort more money from her. | ° . Master Adam Burford’s speculation, whatever it was, had been a wretched failure. ‘Soon was he left again with scarce a shilling ; and his last resource, in the utter ruin which he had brought upon himgelf, was the wretched apology for an, inn, in which, after more than ﬁwe{ve years, we again find him, and with poor ' Margaret; who had not dared .to leave him, still for his companion. " : el Gloomy dnd wretched, and more than ever a terror to all by whom she was surrounded, had become Mistress Camelford. ‘Arthur Gresham had not returned to England, and it seemed-unlikely to her that now he ever would return i and Rosalie, if not happy in her union with -Hartley, appeared at least resigned, and almost contented ; and worse than all, remorse would torture her heart whenever, which was very often, she remembered little Arthur. It was again, as when our story began, the month of February; once more the ground was covered deep with snow; hill and dale, every house top, every tree and bramble had its wintery covering. . Margaret Burford, aged before her time, her health of mind and body shattered beyond all hope of repair, had been to, the nearest town to purchase a few bottles of liquors. “Twas only in that poor way ske could provide for the customers, who might be easily counted, that came to her poor inn. - We say her inn, becausé it was left en< tirely to hér management; her wretched husband’s only part in it being to drink ‘the greater portion of the liquors she had ‘with so much difficulty obtained.. . - Margaret, on her way home, by a path which led through a thick wood, had suddenly encountered a poor,lad who was’ extended senseless in the'snow. R

" A few drops of the brandy which she had gona ao far to purchase, restored tha youth to consciousness, and ' furnished him -with sufficient strength to “totter forward, supported by Margaret’s arm. - . . With most expressive gestures did he evince his gratitude for the service that had been rendered him, but not a. word did He speak ; and Margaret soon acquired: the certainty that the poor lad was dumb. . Arrived at the house of the woman who had so succored him, he motioned for pen and paper to be given to him,- and wrote all that he knew of his young life’s history, which; while the good Margaret is reading it, we will relate. : Gl

Of his infant days he had been told, and could remember nothing. 'He believed he was an orphan. who had been adopted by a genérous man.. i 5 That man was but-a poor mechanic, and means of li,/ing having failed him in his own birth-pluce, had set forth, with the lad whom he had protected, for his companion, to walk through England until he should find some profitable employment; but on his way had been seized with- an illness which had proved fatal. S His protege then, left to his own guidance, had wandered forward, he knew not whither, until, famishing and exhausted, he had sunk senseless upon the spot where his benefactress, directed by Providence, had discovered and rescued him from near approaching death. When Margaret had read all this— .. . “What is your namé, poor hoy ?” she asked.

And the lad wrdte, “Edmund.” And that was the only mame by which he had ever heard himself called. .

“You shall remain with me, poor youth, and I will never abandon you!” exclaimed Margaret,—and the lad, sinking -to his knees, grasped her hand and wept upon it the thanks and gratitude which only so: he could express. < L . o

Adam Burford had been absent-from his home, no uncommon - occurrence, on. the evening that the dumb boy was brought to it by Margaret; and it was not until ‘the third day afterwards that the ruffian returned, and limped into the room in which were lis wife and the lad she had rescued, and was now so charitably sheltering. An involuntary shudder ran through Edmund’s frame as Burford’s odd eyes leered: upon him. = “Never before have I beheld features so Thorribly repulsive I’ was the lad’s thought; and was amazed that his benefactress, whose homely face, though deeply lined with marks that betokened heavy sorrow, was yet radiant with benignity, should be the wife of such a man as now, almost with fear, he looked upon. o “Who is this young scamp?” growled Margaret’s husband. b And the poor wife told how she had found young Edmund, and related his history exactly as it had been disclosed to her by the outh, and which was all that he himself Knew, or could remember concerning his previous life. . p Ll ‘When Margaret had concluded her relation, her husband said - brutally, addressing his:wife: . S

“Why didn’t you leave the fellow where he was? What have you to do with char'ilfiﬁ? «Why don’t you look at home first? e young scamp shan’'t stay here!” ° Then, turning towards Edmund, he savagelg exclaimed: = - : , ““Away with . you, you young vagabond; stay another minute in my house, and it mag_ perhaps be worse for yon !”’ £l dmund procured his hat, and was preparing to depart. - : Margaret impllgged that her husband would suffer the to remain, if only for a few days longer, and she would endeavor to obtain for hfm, in the mneighborhood, some kind of employment. e ‘And to her appeal Burford responded: “If you are so overburthened with charity, you might, I think, spare 1 little of it for nz;)lur hngband, and not waste it all'on this stripling, who can’t be of much account, I take it, or he would have somebody somewhere or other to own him.” g | “Oh, Adam !’ his wife said, reproachifuﬂ(? . i e « *Yes, better think of your husband,” that worthy ﬁnﬁueg,_“who% soon be in prison, an or a paltry hare!” . AN ot hvo Haet! Beiaited 1L 3is wils cled, Interaigativiy ) “Yes: and shall kve a three months’

spellin'the county jail. That is ‘my sengpeoe unless I can p:iv a fine of ten po{mds 3 te% vhere am I now to get so much money? ﬂ? might as wéll have said ten hundredl’? - . . ; “Oh, Adam!” cried his wife, “will you never quit your evil ways?” s . . “Don’t preach to me,” the ruffian savagely retorted; “unless you can find me the ten pounds, for, in. that case, perhaps, I might be inclined to listen to your sermon.” “Ten pounds!” exclaimed Margaret, “ware it but ten shillings T could not furnish you with the sum.” .“Tiere is nothing else for it, I. suppose, and I must go to jail at last—’tis very hard, thouwh ?” : Mister Burford should have thought himself fortunate that he had so long been able to keep without the walls of a prison. . Adam limped towards the dumb boy. . “Why are you not gone?” he savagely cried to the poor lad,who stood undaunted&mm now not a jot, before the ruf’s scowls and frightful leer. : “Do you think I will have a young mendicant making himself comfortable in my house while I am shut-up in jail ?” Again Margaret entreated, and as yainly: as beﬂ)l‘e; - e

“There is only one master in' this house—and that’s me, fthink P? gshouted Burford, bringing his fist down heavily on the table, and knocking over-two orthree jugs which had been standing-on it. - Hdmund raiseg - Margaret’s * hand, and pressed -his lips to it, looked fondly and gratefully on her, and walked towards the door. : } v

. “Poor‘ orphan boy !” Margaret, weeping, said ; “who will.protect thee ?”’ - » : And, for answer to his.benefactress, to those fears for the future which her words had expressed, Edmund raised his eyes trustingly towards heaven, waived.one more farewell to Margaret, and was again cast upon the world, ’a poor abandoned waif, friendless and shelterless. A

CHAPTER XII. A CLAUNCH: « .

But a few miles from the hovel; dignified with the name of tavern, of which Mistress Camelford’s discharged agent was the proglm'etor,» was’ a sea-port town; and thither ‘did Edmund, on being driven from his latest home, wend his way. He had heard one or two of the very few customers who visited the miserable apology for a tavern, which he had just left, speaking together of a vessel which was to be launched in the evening of that day which again saw the poor dumb boy alone upon the world, and at the town to which we have but now alluded. . To that town did - Edmund bend his steps—he scarcely knew wherefore ; perhaps, he had a vague notion that, amongst the many people who wonld be there assembled, it might be his happy fortune to 'discover a new friend; some one who would place him in the way to earn his own, honest livo : : e ] %t wanted but half-an-hour of the time fixed on for tile“launching of the new vessel, when Edmund had reached this sea-port; crowded with thousands of people, eager to behold ' the promised and most exciting spectacle. , i Every point whence even the slightest. view of the launch might be ‘obtained; was thronged with - anxious gazers. A huge man-of-war was this ship, and destined to giveadditional strength and glory toalready mighty and glorious old England ! The moment when the vessel should quit the, stocks had -arrived—her :decks were crowded with people; one only, and the last block, still kept her on her keel, which tapered down till.it seemed, to the eyes of distant spectators, scarce thicker thana razor-blade., i : ; i

The poor fellow who, on the preceding launch, had devoted himself to the perilous task of cutting away the last block from benewth tho ship, had been crushed to death by the monster, which, lacking sufficient skill and nerve for the dangerous task, he let loose for his own destruction. ‘A réward. of fifty pom&s had this time been offered by the commander of the port, to whomever would strike away the one block which only would be left. But the fate of him who had before ventured on the task was not forgotten, and no one offered now. ¢

At last, a conviet had volunteered; and would, he said, risk his life by removing the ° last obstacle which held the new vessel to her eradle, on condition that, if he safely escaped, he should at once be restored to Liberty.. His offer was accepted. Hushed almost to breathless silence, were the thousands gathered around, and gazing with eager eyes, waiting with anxiouslybeating hearts, as the convict was seen slowliy making his way towards the vessel. Pale was the man, though seemingly determined—he seized the hatchet that was Eﬁfﬁnted to him, descended with tolerable | ess the inclined plane, but—arrived beneath the immense vessel, and beholding how imminent the danger, the convict’s courage, -in a moment, entirely deserted him, and dropping to the .ground the axe which he no longer possessed sufficient. strength to wield, he exclaimed— _ “Give me back my chains; I have no desire todie!” - . = 1 i : » ' The ceremony was about 'to be postponed, the vast crowd had almost comménced to .disperse, when a, young 'lad, poorly elad, little more than a child, indeed, struggled from amidst a mob. of people, snatched up the hatchet which the conviet had cast to | the ground, and was beneath the vessel, ' even, before any one could attempt to stay him, With a gesture he checked-those who were about to follow, and draw him back - from an almost certain death. .

While all else trembled for him, he alone wag calm—he sank upon his knees, pressed to his lips a locket which he drew from his breast where it had been concealed—then, with a firm and bold -arm, he raised. the hatchet above his head—it fell again—then was heard a horrible rending and crashing, the huge vessel glided 'forward, at first slowly, then, with therapidity of lightning, carried forward by, its own weight; and descending like an avalanche to its proper element, the sea, which half opened, as though about to engulp it—but that was only a saluté of welcome—the vessel rose again, and proud?y settled itself upon the ocean for which it had been created. But as the huge vessel glided on, a ery of terror and of anguish resounded. That almost child, thatcourageous boy, had disappeared ; but when the cloud of dust had dissgmted, thén was he seen standing calmly and placidly, and shouts enthusiastic and joyful, arose from thousands of voices! o Modestly, and still calmly, this boy apEi‘oa.;ched the Admiral, and received from is hands the recompense that had been so nobly earned. Then were the shouts redoubled, and the brave youth, seemingly confused with hig triumph, returned to, and was lost again a.m@:: ‘the crowd from which he had so recently“issued to prove himself a little hero, -~ i -

Is it necessary we should say that he who had acted with such noble valor was Edmund, the poor dumb boy. . When had been driven from her the lad whom Margaret had found and cherished when he had been dying of cold and hunger, his protectress wept as though the fountain of her tears could néver be exhausted; but her tears »aq&lher upbraidings were_lost upon her brutal husband. : “With that poor boy’s misery to solace,” she said, “I should have found courage to support my own—l was becoming again attached to life—and you could not understand,” she continued, vehemently, and confronting her husband—*“you could not understand that to a.doa:t " that orphan, might have been ‘accepted as some slight exgti:tiqn for the murder you have com. mitted.?” s N / Adam Burford, with a horrible imprecation; and clenching his fist threateningly, commanded her to be silent. Lo But Margaret not heedinf, added,— . ' «“You have slain the child who had been sonfided to our care—have driven away the orphmb;hom prct;;i&%ence m sent to hx;n--migerable man poor boy was, perhap heaven’s ém-da:: for your mmzi‘;hdvfma- Y”P.' ~ News of the brave deed which Edmund

had performed flow like wildfire, and by thé following morning had come to the knowledga of Burford and his wife, and both, by the description ‘which was given of hif, gslcognised in the young hero of the launch ; ehggo; dumb boai'. : : garet was alone 'when little Edwa.tg' suddenly appeared again before her, an threw a purse of money into her lap—the money which‘at peril of his life we have seen him' earn—and was hwrrying away again that he might not be seen by the brutal Adam Burford ; it was not for himself the boy feared, but for his benefactress. But Margaret would not suffer him E&mto leave her; she held him fast, as she ‘exclaimed,~— T 4 . “Oh, stay, stay !—You shall leave me no more—come what may, again you shall not be driven from me !’ Lo -

. And Edmund threw himself into her arms and clung about her neck., . S “I know all about this money,” said Maxrgaret, when both of them had grown 4 little com}?osed—-“but - why de you give .it to ma P . -

- Edmund made her understand that ten pounds of that money was to save her husband from prison,’ and the remainder was for herself, for her great goodness and charity to a poor orphan, from whom heaven had seen fit to withhold the Iﬁ:"r to speak the gratitude with which his heart was ﬁned’ . < Z “Dear boy ¥’ said Margaret; tenderly, «I will accept as a lodn, the ten pounds which -will save my husband from prison, for companionship with the inmates of a goal would adc? to the wickedness and depravity with which already he is-possessed—but for the rest, I would starve zratha than touch a coin of it,and will hide “it carefully away till shall come the time for its fit and profit« able employment.” ) . \ - And Margaret lost no time in well cofis cealing Edmund’s treasure. i ; ~ Then, tke boy with her, and holding his handf she sought her husband .and found him; as she had expected that she’ should, drinking and smoking. : ; But he was alone, and rose up, and with, as usual; an oath on his lips, limped towards his wife and Edmund as he saw them enter the room in which he had been seated. “A moment;” said Margaret—and listen to me.” e ~

“How dares he to return after I had ‘sent him away !” the ruffian shouted. “He has brought you the ten pounds necessary to.save you from a gaol,” said Margaret, and her husband uttered an exclamation of delight. - s “But you shall not have the money,” proceeded Margaret, “unless you consent that he will remain an inmate of our house, to be my only joy, my only comfort!” ~ “Yes, yes, I agree,” muttered Burford, “I shall contrive to make him useful, and—and I don’t want to'go to gaol !’ he finished with a chuckle and a leer. i

Then, suddenly, a thought seemed to gtrike him, and—— = : “What has the fellow done with the ~money he got for that job ?’ he hastily.and ‘greedly inquired. - ' b “It was deposited in safe.hands before he returned to this house,” Margaret “responded, very significantly, and with a disappointed growl, like to a ddg that considered itself defranded of & savory bone, Burford limped from the room. : Left alone with Edmund, his protectress embraced and wept over him; but this time they were tears of joy which she was shedding. This poor,:dumb orphan had brought to her the-only gleam of happiness which for many weary years she had been permitted to know. o AsMargaret was standing before Edmund, gazing fondly and admiringly upon him, and thinking how very handsome he was, and that his face reminded her, she could not: tell. wherefore, of some other face that surely she had somewhere seen—as gazing on Edmund and thinking thus, she stood, suddenly she started, and with a slight scream, fixed her eyes; with an‘amazed expression on that locket which already we have seen the dumb boy press to his lips, and which now in the disorder of his dress, had escaped from its hiding place, and was dangling in full view at the end of a ribbon to which it was attached. e

““Oh, heaven ! faltered Margaret, “that Tocket !” hastily she seized and opened it, and the miniature of, seeminly, a young girl was disclosed. = | R “Those features!” she continued, “No, my eyes deceive me, it is not she!” and then more closely still she : examined that locket and the miniature it contained, and was convinced that her eyes had not, as at first: she had supposed, played her false—--10, oh, no! - - :

But i the hands of that boy ! “Oh! if I could believe it—if I dared! Oh, heaven—oh, heaven ! if it were possible that it could be true !’ A

And Margaret fell back in a chair, and with difficulty préserved herself from fainting, so overpowered was she by her emotion. . T T 1

, Edmund clung to her; was bewildered, even terrified ;. and with his large and most expressive eyes questioned his protectress, -asked what it was so greatly had affected her. ; : P

- «“How long have you possessed thatlocket, and the portrait it contains?”’ demanded Margaret, with agitated and trembling voice. - ; :

And Edmund, by signs, explained to her that evér since he could remember, the portrait of that lovely woman Kad lain near his heart, and that when he was but a very little child—so he had Been told—even then it had been with him. - iy o

“And you know not the lady whom that miniature depicts P’ asked Margaret. And Edmund walked to the- slate' which was hanging against the walk of the room, with unpaid liquor scores upon it, and with one brush of his sleeve wiping them all away, wrote in their place—*“l have never beheld her! i :

‘Margaret looked long and earnestly into the lad’s face, and then weeping and with clasped hands—All merciful providence, it is he 1”’ she. gratefully exclaimed, and, sinking to her knees, drew Edmund to her, and; laying the boy’s head upon her bosom, caressed him tenderly, and sobbed her thanks to heaven, kv = &

Adam Burford surprised them thus, and snatched young Edmund from the arms which were embréicing him, held the boy fust, and seemed as if about to strike him. _«Hold !” .exclaimed Margaret; “and thank heaven that you are riot so guilty as you have believed!” ' l‘gvghat mean you ?”’ her husband sulkily asked. vl :

«Look at him!” and Margaret pointed towards Edmund, still in her husband’s cluteh. | s : A B 5 =

«“Well ?’ shouted Burford, e " «Little Arthur, little Arthur!” wildly Jburst forth Margaret. = And Burford quitting, as though he had been stung by him, his hold upon the boy, ‘limped back and stood and glared at him as if looking on a spectre, from the tomb; and ’:% indeed, must have seemed to him now © boy whom more than twelve years beforé he hnd, as he believed, cast jnto the surgg%waters on that wintry and tempestuous

. CHAPTER XIII, 1 : TRUE NOBILITY, i The good man who had rescued little Arthur from that perilous position 2}; the bridge . was, at that time,a widower, and with no children of his own to care foi ; and vory glmdlﬂ' did he welcome to his generons henrt the little child whose life had, almost by a miracle, been preserved. . ' Having reached his home with the prize §o strangely won, he set to work to calm the poor little fellow, and to prove to him that he had falleri then into tender hands, and was with one who eould love,and would be a father'_to him. e ‘And little Arthur knew, from the first moment, that he was safe with his rescuer, BT ried by him to his home; and when there, Swould ot leave his good riend's kuse. ; As time rojjed om, his. W%&gotten ; their very cause ceaged to be re. “membered ; his infant days passed from his

NO. 4‘9.

mma,'ﬁ,tlﬁ"ﬁéﬁ;m&mo'ry of the (fa'rsons by whom he had been beloved,; and of those, too;el()iy whom in those days, he+ had been treated so barbarously. . = . “He soon ceased to remember that he had ever known another home than that which now sheltered him,-that any other had ever _cared for him save that best of all men whom now hqso dearly loved, and by whom he was himsgli _so perfectly adored. . More precious than the very life-blood coursing through his veins, was little Arthur to the man who had preserved him. . = . . Anq little Arthur was dumb—that sad truth was an additional claim' to, the pity and love of his preserver—not naturally: mute, but rendered so by the s::fcgkhty terror with which he had been . stricken when swung round high above the head of the. murderous rufian who had been . about -to cast him into the raging waters below. « - That had been comprehended by the good man, when little Arthur, having recovered somewhat from his great terror, opened his lips to lisp his thanks, started, and looked - amazed that no sound had:followed—again and again the poor child essayed to speak, and still no m%fgu]a.té SOun({ ‘issued: from between the parted lips, and the boy was' frightened at himself, and bitterly cried. His rescuer remembered that strange cry which had come from. the bridge, and which had so suddenly and so abruptly ceased, and had no doubt that, by the great shock _the child had then received, the organs. of - his'speech had become paralyzed; and so indeed it had been ! el S _John Barnard—that was the name of him who had preserved poor Rosalie’s child from a horrible death-—at once made up his mind by no means to endeavor to attain to a discovery of little Arthur’s parents or other relatives, since it was his opinion-they could not, whoever they were, be fit protectors for the child whom he had saved.. Indeed, he inclined to the belief: that it could be only they who had doomed the poor boy to the: death he had sb narrowly escaped.. . i . The locket which contained the miniature of herself which Arthur Gresham had, as will be remembered, painted;, Rosalie one day hung around the neck of little Arthur, who was very fond of it as a plaything, and Rosalie had suﬁereg it to remain with him, and-dndeed it had become the child’s pet toy, and he would never consent to haye it, for a single instant, taken" from him, It was as though some angel had whistpered to the poor boy, that his every hope of happiness in the future depended on his' posses-: sion of that miniature. =+ &

It had so chanced that Mistress Camelford had never seen the locket which con-. -tained Rosalie’s miniature in the hands of little Arthur and it ‘had happened that it lay concealed beneath the child’s dress when' Augusta had stolen him from his cot to give * him to'the tender mereies of her ruffianly agent. . - T e e T Margaret Burford had not thought it necessary to deprive the child of his mother’s portrait, and though her hushand had seen }f}iﬁ locket he did net attempt to possess himself.of it, since it appeared to be of no intrinsic value. SR e John Barnard had, of course, no thought to deprive the boy of his only treasure; and so, through all the .perils, through all the: many cruel vicissitudes of Arthur’s young life, the miniature of the bereaved mother who had mever ceased to weep his loss, remained with him, though he himself had forgotterfthat he had ever beheld: the living features of her whose image he 5o chex ished. SN R U John Barnard would often’ look upon the miniature of Rosalie, and, say to himself that the young girl whose features it repre- , sented could-not have been' the mother of the boy he had saved from" d%a,th‘, or must be herself dead, for the face there depicted was like that of a Jovely angel. e - If, after that terrible night at the bridge, Arthur hadinot forgotten his name, it had ~ become'impossible to him to make his pre-- : server understand what ‘had been’ that. - name, and Barnard therefore re-christened the little fellow, and henceforth called him’ Edmund. © calmEiies o s John Barnard was but a poor man, & common artizan—a carpenter, in fact—who had enough to do to live; but he contrived. that his boy, Edmund—for his own property, honestly obtained, he considered the little lad—should be well nourished and respectably dressed; and, happily, found a: teacher who was capable of well educating »him, dumb though . Edmund was, and who“for charges which Barnard; by dint of great ‘gelf-denial managed to ,defra'{: made of our little hero a very tolerable scholar. . =

As Edmund grew older, his protector began to reflect as to how he might earn something more than ‘the 'mere pittance beyond which he might never hope to obtain so long as he remained where he then SVRE, e e He must do something more for- his boy Edmund than he had been able hitherto to aceomplish for himself ; so, one day, he bade farewell to the village in which he had been ‘born, and which he never before had quitted; and with Edmund by ‘his :side and holding" his hand, went forth - into. a wider world to seek for better fortune, not for his own sake, but for the boy vztgmwaé 8 hundrffd times more-precious to 'him. than himself. SChe e e e i

Day after da.{,_ with Edmund by his side, he traveled on from place to place, dlways on foot, and seeking employment at’ every town or village at which he: and . his' dear boy arrived, but never obtaining it. John Barnard had thought:that he had but to leave his poor and petty native place to better his boy’s condition, since it was of Edmund only that he thought; but too soon he came to know the sad error under. which he had labored, the wretched mistake he had committed. = .00 0 S

It was not much money he had brought with him from his native village; and o, obtaining no en;ﬁyment, he soon saw himself reduced to almost; his last shilling, and had resolved to return as gpeedily as. possible to the home he had left with such high hopes, when suddenly, illness''seized upon him—grief and anxiety had caused it—and ere many days he was in his gr&'ve?—_l-;:"?uu-per’s grave—for to the poor-house had he been taken, and by the :parish was brave, noble-hearted John Barnard buried. |

And he had not died despairingly, but . comforted, and with hope for the futuré of his -adored boy; for in his last hours; he said, a vision had come to him from Heaven that great happiness was .in store for Edmund, and that, though not himself permitted to Mmain on earth:to witness it, yet: had it been promised to him that from on high he should’'behold it.. . = - ‘. . * As one’stunned, or bewildered by a hideous dream, was Arthur, when life had quitted his benefactor; and when good John Barnard was laid’ within his grave, he gought. to throw himself tupon the coffin’ and to be entombed with the man 'who had 'been to him the only father he had lever Jknown. : S e Taken back to the poor-house, he had escaped from it time after time to fly and cast himself . weeping and moaning, on the . grave where lay the only being who on earth, as the poor lad believed, had' ever. ‘cated for and loved him, ./ - ° ' /They told him at the poor-house that, for awhile, at least, he must go no more to his father’s grave. It was out of compassion for the- poor boy’s ‘auﬁe,rin%s. and * bitter 8»8011{:110)' told him that; but Edmund, do what they would, was away again, no more to return to the poor-house, for; when he saw the people approaching who . would hao\(r)?icarﬁ'iedhlilm b& c go it,dbiﬂgd‘iuto&he wood, where he “was ‘found by Margaret, and ha.vingo for 'dags’; rvefused all food, at last sank down, and fast was perishing with cold and hunger, but. that Providence sent Margaret Burford to_his aid would soon have rejoined,,um a 8 bis wish, him without - One Loomis, a member of the Ohio Legislature, has introduced & bill to prohibit members of secret societies {from sitting on juries. The idiotdon’s séem toknngﬁxl at his resolution pro- - poses to exclude one half if not more, Juryauty. el s

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THE LATE LEGISLATURE.

A Cdmpai-isdn. /

' (From the Rochester (Ind.) Sentinel,) , * | TRadical papers are doing their ut- | most to.cast as much odium as, possi- { ble upon the last Legislature because | one branch of it was Democratic, and for that reason they would hold the | Democratic party responsible for.all its bad acts, and take to themselves all the credit for whatever good was accomplished. . They would make it” ‘appear. that it'was a very expensive session, and one ‘which did but litfle work. ' It is'not supposed that when the Legislature is politically- divided, that as great amount of work would be done as if both houses were of the- - political faith; yet a comparison ‘of the work and expense of the last Legislature with the oneof 1872 and 1878, which had 4 strong Repubflican majority in both ends of the State Capitol, makes a very favorable showing in favor of the session just ' closed. Figures are like G. W., they cantiot. lie. -In 1872 and 1873 the expense of the Legislature, which was strongly Republiéan, according to the figures of Mr. Wildman, who was at that time Auditor of State and a member of the Republican party, was $199,563.32. The expense of the late Legislature was $112,470.55, making a difference in favor of the session of 1875 of $87,092.17, It must be taken into ‘consideration, also, that the members of the session of 1872 and 1873 served - 40 days at $5 per day, whereas $8 per. ‘day “was the price paid each member during the last term. If it be argued that the Legislature of 1872 and 1873 “was in session 101 days, while thelast session ‘only held 68 days, we will take the average day expenditure, and find - that the average daily expense of the ' Republican session was, exclusive of .members’ per diem, $953.09 per day, while the expense of the last session ‘was $453.97 per day—-a little less than one half the expense under Republican rule. - Hon. James Hopkins, mem‘ber of the last House of Representatives, addressed a letter to Governor - ' Hendricks, asking his opinion of the ‘actions of the Legislature. His Excel-f lency replied briefly, but very pointedly.” After giving the figures stated above, he says: © . e

“The Legislature of 1872-3 sat.lol daysand passed 154 bills which became Taws, and three bills which were vetoed, - The Legislature of 1875 sat 68 days, and passed 158 bills' which ‘became laws, and three bills which were vetoed. The Legislature of 1875 en--‘acted four more laws than the Legislature of 1872-3, in thirty-three days less time, and at a less expenditure of $87,092.77. In other words, 1t took thirty-three.days more time, and cost $87,000' more money for the Legislature of 1872-3 to pass 154 laws than it ‘required the Legislature of 1875 to pass 158 laws. ' * * * Very many . of the laws recently passed, like those : of any :other liegislature, have mno gpecial importanee, but will prove to - be useful. . Important amendments ‘have been made in the assessment and tax ldaws, in the judicial system and legal practice and proceedings, in the school laws, in. the laws governing cities, and upon many other subjects. The demands of the people for additional provision. for the insane have been unheeded by former Legislature, but under 'a law just passed | provision is to be madé for six hundred additional of that unfortunate -class.. . The authors of that®humane - measure wilk receive the thanks and blessings of .the people. For:many | years the people have also demanded - an adjustment and reduction of fees - and salaries. They have been disap- ' pointed by one failure afier.another. ‘The fee and salary bill-just passed is - probably as nearly in accordance with the popular’ demand as possible. I have heard it estimated that it will save to the people of the State nearly | $1,000,000 per year. As the Baxter bill promoted neither revenue nor - temperance, and therefore was not ‘much réspected or obeyed, a l(i{cense ‘law has been enacted in its stead.'* * The yearly revenue to the schools from the license fees will probably ex- . ceed $200,000. -Before the meeting of: the next Legisldture this law will have brought into the school fund more than double the entire cost and expense of the Legislatutre that en-. acted it. | o , - A practice has recently obtained of _ inserting in promissory notes'and oth- - ‘ér.agreements to.pay money, ‘a pro‘vision -that, in case suit be brought ‘thereon, the plaintiff shall reserve his‘attorney’s fees. ' It was unknown to ‘commercial usage. It was an innovation.. It is now forbidden and made ‘unlawful. For that the Legislatureis - denounced and its action declared im- - ‘politic. Why shall ‘the man who loans money. recover his attorney’s fees ‘against the. defendant, and no other, plaintiff allowed 'the same? Is the. ‘claim not' equally strong in faver of' the party who sues for an injury:to his ‘person, reputation or property, or who, is forced into court to vin«fcate_the‘ \ dearest relations of life? Orifaman be wrongfully sued upon a false claim, why is he not equally entitled to the cost of the defense against the same? 1 think the principle covers all the cases or none of them. = The Legislature said that it shall be in the future as it has been in the past, that each party must pay his own lawyers. It may mot be claimed for this or any other Legislaturé ‘that no mistakes were made by it, or impolitic laws passed. Such excellence cannot be found. If it be judged by the econo-' my of its expenditures, its dispatch of business, and by the volume and character of its enactments, it will proper- 1 ly rank well among its predecessors.” ~lf a million dollars has been saved to the taxnavers.ﬁ;:he passage of a . fee and salary bill, twe hundred thousand. dollars by the.adoption of a li- - cense law,: provisions made for the care ‘of six hundred unfortinate in-., sano_ persons, by A Legislature shat ‘the expéuss tha & Bapubionn Lade: iators woade W SRS xmmfw*fé{“*x%w*% i ,;g‘;m "'2\53?3 AR L eL St ‘«;"»'k*%;{g,,fr‘-m %"*‘ 7 ‘%’ l‘%ﬂ« ULARIERE A i AL Y fJ.; %""‘JT e FRE TR