Pike County Democrat, Volume 30, Number 52, Petersburg, Pike County, 4 May 1900 — Page 7

. 2£hc fifce ©fluutij §tnw«at TO. McC. STOOPS, Kdltor »u<t P»oprUtor> 4'ETERSBURQ, : INDIANA. 1A DISABLED HUNTER and a BLIND PANTHER r

WE WERE hunting for hig game among the Black hill!, aiid one •day, when there were signs in the air of a coming snowstorm, 1 left camp and wandered away for three or four miles. After an hour or two, as I stood resting beside a tree, a deer broke cover in front of me and only a pistol-shot . away. It was a line buck, and .he walked into the open as cool and unconcerned as if hunter had never thirsted » \ for his life. I ought to have dropped * him dead at that distance, but he fell at my fire, to get up and limp away, and, believing him to be wounded mortally. 1 followed at my best pnce. The ground was rough and covered with young • cedars, and, being a, bit excited, I paid little heed to what was under foot. Of » sudden I found myself fulling, and, as I went down, I dropped my gun to clutch at the nearest branches. I went ,j -down 12 or 15 feet over the edge of a ■ -ravine, struck on my feet, and then plunged forward and brought up on a ledge or shelf about four feet wide bv » ten feet long. This shelf overhung a depths so black and dismal that I dared not wonder how far down it was to the tiny stream flowing over the rdcks at the bottom. The ravine was about 15 l'eet wide, and directly opposite me. in ; a mass of rocks, was an opening.which I knew at first giance to be the den of some wild animal. I did not take note ' -of these things at onee, fdr in the fa 10 I had broken two ribs and been badly •Bruised, and was almostunconscious for a quarter of an hour. When I rallied a bit 1 found a wall 15 or 20 feet high behind me, and as for the ravine in front. I could not have crossed or descended into it even had I not been injured. I had Just taken in the situation when the sky grew dark, the wind swept up the rhvine with a long-drawn moan, and snowflakes whirled thickly -around my head. I was lying quiet and * hoping the pain soon would become easier, when I got such a shock as nearly put my wits to sleep again. Directly in front of me, across the ravine, coming out of his den with great dignity, appeared the largest panther I had ever seen. He stood snuffing the air and looking full at me. antj when I realized how helpless I was •things burned dark and I groaned in •despair. It was only a fair leap for the Beast across the ravine, and I expected him to make it at once and attack me; ■but as the minutes passed away and he still hesitated, I began to wonder over his actions. He turned to the left and trotted along over the ground a distance of about 20 feet. Then he wheeled ^nd passed the den by about the same •distance the other way. When he had gone over this beat two or three times I discovered what was the matter. As ~i he came toward me 1 g-ot a clear view, and saw that he was stone blind. There was a white film over each eye, and he -could not see a tree in his path. Disease or accident had blinded him, but • instinct had taught him the lay of the ground; His movements were as regular as the pendulum of a clock. Just so far down the ravine and return; just so far up the ravine and return. In going down he avoided a stunted cedar growing, in a crevice in the rocks; in going up he avoided a bush which was in the direct path. Grace, litheness, strength, ferocity. The lower jaw was •down, and I had a fine view of the fangs which could rend the hide of a Borse. At every move the terrible -claws clicked and grated—claws which would sink to the bone of a man’s leg t, and then strip the quivering flesh off \ in fragments. There was a curious X fascination in watching the beast as he •took his promenade. I forgot r*y plans as I rejoiced over his blindness. Had he been in possession of his natural vision—could he have but seen ever so little—he would have sprung upon • me, fastened those yellow fangs in my throat, and in 30 seconds all would have been over. But he was blind, and I hoped he could not discover my presence if I remained quiet.

Uf a sudden there was an alarm.v The snow was falling more thickly. l>ut the beast was so near that I could ■catch his every moment. As the wind whirled up the ravine it created an ^ddyf and from one of the circles of this eddy he got my scent. Stopping midway in his promenade, he reared up and sniffed the air with savage .growls, and my heart beat so hard that it seemed as if he must surely liear it. and follow the sound until liis hot breath was on my face. Sniff —snuff—growl! To the right, to the left, straight ahead. After a minute lie lost the scent, and then he st&d01 «till and uttered continuous growls as lie waited to catch it again. His long tail swept the ground in a half circle, -and his ears worked swiftly back and iorth, After a minute he got the ificent again. He reared up, whirled -about three or four times as if on a jfivot, and then he pointed full at me. A tape line 15 feet long would have •covered the ground between us—between where I lay helpless and he half crouched for a spring. i .'f the film could be torn from those, eyes, how they would glint,and glitter and hlaze! There was something in the sound of his low growling which ■chilled my blood—a menace, a warning of what was to come, which forced m# to shut my eyes and utter a last prayer. Why does he hesitate? WTiat delays his spring? He waited so long that I concluded his blindness reasoned against his ferocity. Bat he Jta&Uy made nn bis mind to try. I

could tell that by Ms ccnthteous growls, by the ears laid flat back on his head, as you have seen in an angry cat; by the clicks of his claws on the fli«ty rock as he sought a foothold for a spring. As he was on the point of taking the leap the capricious breeze played him a trick. He' suddenly lost the scent and walked slowly down the shelf to pick it up again, perhaps reasoning that I had moved my position. Ten feet to the right he got it, and with a fierce snarl he crouched and made his leap. Did the beast know the lay of the ground be-’ fore losing his eyesight, or was it the subtle instinct given to the feline iribe? It was a clear leap of 13 feet— maybe a foot or two more. Only at that spot could he strike the shelf on which I stood. He rose in the air like a bird taking flight, described a graceful half-curve in the air. and landed so light that I felt rather^ than heard him. He was ten feet awnj- from me, and he reared up and snuffed the air in every direction. But for the wind and the snow the beast must have got my scent so close at hand. On the contrary, after about two minutes he leaped back across the raviue and disappeared in his den. Then, with many a groan and half-suppressed ejaculation. I drew myself back until I rested against the cliff. I knew that my ribs were broken, and that unless discovered by accident I could never leave that ledge alive. It certainly had set in for a snowstorm, and it took only a few moments to hide me from sight under the white mantle. This was my salvation again. As the pain made me half-unconscious a fullgrown female panther, followed by a cub which may hax£ been a year old. scrambled down the rocks on the opposite side of the- ravine to the den of the blind beast. Some taint Of my presence must have been in the air even though so faint they eoulil not 'locate me; They snarled in ange,r and' sniffed at the air. and it seemed to me as if both looked directly at me for several seconds. If they did I was so buried under the snow that! they failed to make out what sort of an object I was. They finally turned and disappeared in the cave, but were out i of sight only a moment. When! they reappeared the blind panther j was with them, and the three scrambled up the rocks and disappeared iii the

W °J» THE INDIAN FIRED AND KILLED THE FEMALE. forest. There had been a killing' some* where and they had come to conduct him to the feast. Perhaps they brought to him food now and then but he must have had to go with them for water. t was waiting for I knew not what when the end of a strong bark rope with a noose in it suddenly was let down in front of rpy eyes. No one had cothe in search of me. Peter, our Indian guide, had discovered the panther den the day before, and had come back on this o^y in hope of getting a shot. Indian like, he had taken a close survey of things while waiting, and after a time had discovered me on the shelf below. Few men would have tried what he did. As soon as I had slipped the noose over my shoulders and drawn it tight, he began pulling, and though I weighed 15 pounds more than he did, he finally succeeded in landing me on the edge of the cliff. The rough usage I received made me faint away, and it was while I was unconscious that the three panthers returned. As they scrambled down the rocks and stood for a moment the Indian fired and killed the female. She* dropped dead in her tracks, and he fired again and killed the cub. Then something like a tragedy occurred. The blind panther could have saved himself; in fact, he did dash into the cave, but. as if realizing that those he depended on for food and drink were dead, and that without them he must perish, he reappeared, sniffed at their bodies, and then, with a scream in which there was more lament than anger, he leaped into the ravine and vanished into the darkness to be mashed to i» pulp on the rockf below.—Seattle Post-Intelligencer, j He Would Pay Him. The cultivation of his vote by the watchful and flattering ward politician sometimes arouses in the breast of the poor dweller in the slums an exag{*erated notion of his political importance. At a recent banquet of the Franklin Typographical society of Boston, a prominent printer told a story wliicb illustrates this fact amusingly. Not along ago a man came tc this gentleman and asked for work for his boy. The applicant himself was out of work, and his family were in want. “If you can give work to the b’v,** said he, “we’ll get enough out of it te pay the rint, and we won’t be turned out on the street, anyhow.” The printer promised to do what he could. “An’ if ye do,” the father went on, his eye lighting up with a generous gleam, “we’ll put ye in McKinley’s uLaoel” i

LESSONS OF MOVING. Dr. Talmage Preaches a Timely ' Sermon. Dikcoune la Which the Need of * Patience Mil Eqolpoae la Set Forth—Morins Into the Father’s House.

[Copyright, 1900, by Louis Klopsch.J Washington, April 2?. This discourse of Dr. Talmage is pertinent at this time of year, when many people are moving from house to house, and it teaches lessons of patience and equipoise in very trying circumstances. Text, I'hilippians, 4:12: “I know both how to be abased, and I know how to abound/’ Happy* Paul 1 Could you really accommodate yourself to ail eircum-' stances in life? Could you go up without pride, and could you come down without exasperation? Teach the sime lesson to us all. We are at a season of the year when vast populations in all our cities ire changing residence.. Having been born in a house. and having.nll our lives lived in a house, we do not have full appreciation of what a house is. It is the growth of thousands of years. The human race first lived in clefts of rocks, the beasts of the field moving out of the caverns to let the human race move in. The shepherds and the robbers still live iu caverns of the earth. The troglodytes are a race which to this day prefer the cqsgrns to a house. They are warm, they are large, they are very comfortable, they are less subject to violent changes of heat and cold. We come on along down in the history of the race, and we'come to the lodge, which was a home built out of twisted tree branches. We come further on down in the history of the race, and we come to the tent, which was a home built with a round pole in the center and skins of animals reaching out in all directions, mats on the floor for the people to sit on. Time passed on. and the world, after much invention, came to build a house, w hich was a space surrounded by broad stones, against which fhe earth was heaped from the outside. The roof was made of chalk and gypsum and coals and stones and ashes pounded together. After awhile the p'brch was born, after awhile the gate. Then hundreds of years passed on, and in the fourteenth century the modern chimney was constructed. The old Hebrews had openings in their houses from which the smoke might escape if it preferred. but there was no inducement for it to leave until the modern chimney. Wooden keys opened the door, dr the keyhole was lai*ge enough to allow the finger to be inserted for the lifting of the'latch or the sliding of it. There being no windows, the people were dependent for light upon latticework, over which a thin veil was drawn down in time ofVinter to keep out the elements. Window glass was, so late as 200 or 3C0 years ago. in England and Scotland'so great a luxury that only the very wealthiest coulu afford it. A hand mill and an oven and a few leathern bottles and some rude pitchers and plates made up the entire equipment of the culinary department. But the home planted in the old cave or at the foot of a tent pole has grown and enlarged and spread abroad until we have the modern house, with its branches and roots and vast girth and height and depth of comfort and accommodation. Architecture inc other days busied itself chiefly in planning and building triumphal arches and basilicas and hippodromes and mausoleums and columns. while they allowed the people for residences to burrow like muskrats in the earth. St. Sophia’s, of Constantinople, St. Mark’s, of Venice; St. Peter’s, of Home, are only the Iiaphaeled walls against which lean the squalor and the pauperism of many nations i rejoice that, while our modern architects give us grand capitals in which to legislate and grand courthouses in which to administer justice and grand churches in which to worship God. they also give much of their time to the planning of comfortable abodes for our tired population. I have not so much interest .in the arch of Trajan at Bencventum as I have in the wish that all the people may have a comfortable shelter, nor have I so much interest in the temple of Jupiter Olympus at Athens as I have in the hope that every man may have an altar for the worship of the true God in*his own house. Aud I have .not so much interest in the science of ceramics, which goes crazy over a twisted vase, or a queer handled jug in use 3,000 years ago, or a pitcher out of which the ancient pharaohs poured their drunken debauch, as I have that ^very man have on his table a plate with plenty* of healthful food and an appetite to attack it.

Thank God for your home—not merely the house you live in now, but the house you were born in and the many houses you have resided in since you began your earthly residence. When you go home to-day, count over the number of those houses in which yon have resided, and you will be surprised. Once in awhile you will find a man who lives in the house where he was born and where his father was born and his grandfather was born and his greatgrandfather was born, but that is not one out of a thousand castes. I have not been more perambulatory than most people, but I was amazed when I came to count up the number of residences I have occupied, i The fact is. there is in this world no such thing as permanent residence. In a private vehicle and not in & rail car, from which you can see but little, T rode from New York to Yonkers and Tarrytown, on the banks of the Hudson—the finest ride on the planet for a man who wants to see palatial residences in fascinating scenery. It was in the early spring and before the gen

tlemen of -New York bad gone out to •heir country residences. I rode into the grounds to admire the gardens, and the overseer of the place told me —and they all told me—that all the houses had been sold or that they wanted to sell them, and there was literally no exception, although I called at- many places, just admiring the gardens and the grounds and. the palatial residences. Some wanted to sell or had sold because their wives did not want to reside in the summer time in those places while their husbands tarried in town in the night, always having some business #n hand keeping them away. From some houses the people had been shaken out by chills and fever, from some houses they had gone because death or misfortune had occurred, and all those palaces and mansions had either charged occupants or wanted to ehange. Take up the directory of any city of England or America and see how few people live where

they lived 1<» years* ago. There is no such thing as permanent residence. I saw Montieello, in Virginia, President Jefferson's residence, and I saw on. the same day Montpelier, which was either Madison's or Monroe's residence, and I saw also the white house, which was President Taylor's residence and President Lincoln’s residence and President Garfield’s residence. Was it a permanent residence in any ease. I tell you that the race is nomadic, and no sooner gets in one place than it wants to change for another place or is compelled to change for another place, and so the race invented the railroad and the steamboat in order more rapidly to get into some other place than that in which it was then. - Aye. instead of being nomadic it is immortal, moving on and moving on. We whip up our horses and hasten bn until the hub of the front wheel shivers on the tombstone and tips us headlong into the grave,* the only permanent earthly residence. But, bless God. even that stay is limited. for we shall have a resurrection. A day this spring the streets will be filled with the furniture carts and the drays and the trucks. It will bo a hard day for horses, because they will be overloaded. It will be a hard day for laborers, for they will overlift before they get the family furiture j from one house to another. It will be a hard day for housekeepers to see their furniture scratched, and their crockery broken, and their carpets misfit, and their furniture dashed oi the sudden showers. It will be a hard day for landlords. It will be a hard day for tenants. Especial grace is needed for moving day. Many a man s religion, has suffered a fearful strain between the hour on the morning of the 1st of May, when he took his immature breakfast, and the hour at night when he rolled i nto his extemporized conch. The furniture broken sometimes will result in the breaking of the Ten Commandments. There isi no more fearful pass than the hall of a house where two families meet, one moving out and the other moving in. The salutation is apt to be more vehement than complimentary. The gracf that will be sufficient for the 1st of January and the 1st of February and the 1st of March and the 1\. t of April will not be sufficient for the 1st of May. Say your prayers that morning if you find nothing better to kneel down bv than a coal scuttle, and say j our prayers at night though your knees come down on a paper of carpet tacks. You will want supernatural help if any of you move. Help ift the morning to start out aright on the day’s work. Help at night to repent. There will be enough annoyances to make a Xantippe out of a Frances Ridley Havergal. I hav% again and again been in crises of movingday. and I have stood appalled and amazed and helpless in the shipwreck, taking as well as I could those things that floated ashore from the breakers, and I know how to comfort and how to warn and how to encourage the people, so I preach this practical May day sermon. All these troubles will soon be gone, and the bruises : will heal, and the stiffened joints will become supple, and your ruffletl temper will be smoothed of its wrinkles, and order will take the place of disorder. ami you will sit down in your new home seriously to contemplate. * * My first word, then, in this part of my discourse is to all those who move out of small houses into larger ones. Now we will see whether, like the apostle, you know how to abound. Do not, because your new house has two more stories than the old one, add two stories to your vanity or make your brightly polished silver i doorplate the coffin plate to your buried hymility. Many persons movi ing into a larger house nave become | arrogant and supercilious. They

swagger wnere once they walked, they simper where once they laughed, they go about with an air which seems to say: “Let all smaller craft get out of these waters if they don't want to be run over by a regular Cunarder.” I have known people who were kind and amiable and Christian in their smaller house—no sooner did they go over the doorsill <Jf the new house than they became a glorified nuisance. They were the terror of dry goods clerks and the amazement of ferryboats into which they swept, and if compelled to stand a moment with condemnatory glance turning all the people seated into criminals and convicts. They began to hunt up the family coat of arms, and had lion couchant or unicorn rampant on the carriage door; when, if they had the appropriate coat of arms, it would have been a butter firkin on a shoe last or a plow or a trowel. Instead of being like all the rest of us, made out of dust, they would have you think that they were trickled out of Heaven on a lump of loaf sugar. The first thing you know of them, the father will fail in business, and the daughter will run off with a French dancing master. A woinan spoiled by

a liner house is bad eraugh, but ar man so upset is sickening The lavendered fool goes around so dainty ind so precise and so affectti* in the roll of his eyes or the whirl of £is cane or the clicking of the ivjory handle against his front teeth d* ilia effeminate languor, and his coo '< rsation so interlarded with “ohVV thd “ah*s” that he is to me a dose Vf ipecacuanha. Now, my friends : if you move into a larger house, thi ;ak God for more room—for more r:>>n to hang your pictures, for more rabjia in which to gather your friends, f :>r more room in which to let your ca lilren romp and play, for more rot-pi for great bookcases filled with gt>.<. reading or wealth of bric-a-brac. lij;.4e as large and as fine a house as y >.i can afford to have, but do not sacrist'? your humility and your comm |V sense; do not lose your balance; ,<l:> not be spoiled by your success* i !

Years ago we were the quests in an English manor. The sjOnuary, the ferneries, the botanical uDid horticultural genius of the place fhhd done all they could to make the pi; mgattractive. For generations there tad been an amassing of plate and cosjjlr surroundings. At half past nine i/ciock in the morning the proprietor ,>f the estate had the bell rung, and lorae 20 or 30 manservants and. maidserf a its came in' to prayers. Titc proprietor of the estate read the Scripture;;:, gave out the hymn, his daughter at th| organ started the music, and then, ti e music over, tjhe proprietor of the e Ante kneeled down and commended all jiisi^uests. all his family, all his employ* s, to the Lord Almighty. God can trus | such a man as- that with a large esta t-. He knows how to abound. He trusted God, and God trusted him. And Iff the roll of 50 merchant mighty in worldly ould call off princes as h«?s. Ah. my friends, do not be piliiW iufp by any of the successes of this li|< spoiled by the number of jfi men that may stop at you: sweep of the long trail a" ported tapestry. Many come to your house are sites. They are not so do pot be cried coachdoor or the ross the imthose who irning para□ch in love be the parlor— sociabilities, will protect dining-hall— in the evenii weetly intp all of you, picture of ?h you will with you as they are in lime with your house and your successes. You move down next year to 320 Lc 'f Water Mark street and see how many of their carriages will halt at your door. I meet you this springtime at the door of your new horn..*, and while I help-you lift the clothes basket over the banisters and the car akan is getting red in the face in trying to transport that article of furniture to some new destination I congratu jts; you. You are going to have a be liter time this year, some of you, than you ever had. You take God and the Tristian religion in your; home, and (you will grandly* happy. God iu that will sanctify your God in the nursery—tha your children. God in tb that will make the plainest meal an imperial banquet. Goti iti the morning—that will launch the day brightly from the drydocks. Go»| ing—that will sail the day the harbor. And get joy, one and whether you move or; ;lo not move. Get joy out of. the th< light that we are soon all going to have a great moving day. Do*you wan ^ i, the new house into wait move? Here it is, wtc tight with the hand o^ a master: “W know that, if our earthly house of this tabernacle were dissolved, we haw & building of God, a house not mad-? with haYids, eternal in the heavens:?’'; How much rent will we have to pfijj for it? We are going to own it. Kywr much must we pay for it? How m,'icp cash down, and how much left on nloAtgage? Our Father is going to give it As a free gift. When are we going to/ move into it? We are moving now. Or moving day heads of families are vry apt to stay in the old house until .hey. have seen everything off. They ;end ahead the children, and they send ahead the treasures and the valuables.' Then, after awhile, they will come I remember very welkin that in boyhood moving day was s jubilation. ^ I On almost, the first lead we, the chil dren. were sent on afaex <1 house, and vre arrived w.tl laughter, and in an hour Mle had ranged through every room in. fine house, the barn and the granary. Toward night, and perhaps in the lasft tfagon, father and mother would conie looking very tired, and we would ccrc 3 down to the foot of tire lane to meet them and tell them of all the wonders ti e discovered in the new place, anc .hen, the last wagon unloaded, the ca idles lighted, our neighbors, who hit Ihelped us to move—for in those tka s helped each other—sat themselves, the country to the new h shout and neighbors town with us at a table on which luxury they could think dear Lord knows that been moving a good ai was every L Well, my le of us have e. We have

sent our cnnaren aneiui. we nave sent many of our valuables ahead. We cannot go yet. There -is v ork for us to do, but after awhile it: \ ill bn toward night," and we will be v >ry tired, and then we will start for oar new home, and those who have gui e ahead of us they will see our appi o ich. and they will come down in the a me to meet us, and they will have miibii to tell us of what they have discovered in the “house of many mansio n s,” and of how large the rooms are an d of how bright the fountains. And tfc i. the last load unloaded, the table wi ll be spread and our celestial neigh bo s will come in and sit down with our reunited families. and the chalices re 11 be full, not with the wine that sT; ft its in#the vat of earthly intoxication,: biut with “the new wine of the kingd.u 1.” And there for the first time we wi 1 realize wha^ fools we were on earth v hen we feared to die, since death has; turned out only to be the moving froze: a smaller house into a larger one, ail the exchange of a pauper’s hut for i, irinee’s castle, and the going up-stairs from a miserable kitchen to a glc ri ans parlor* i I ■■ 1

EPIDEMIC OF YELLOW FEVER. Thousands ASu>i?d and Kashins; t« Ai<pl> the Gold Cure as Feme* tleed at Cppr Xome. 8eattle, Wash.. April 30.—The form* al rush to the gold fields of Cape, Nome wilt be inaugurated to-day, when the steamer Jennie of the Pacific Steam Whaling Co., the first steamer to start on the trip this year, t| will sail, providing she arrives in time from San Francisco. This vessel will take SO passengers and 100 tons of freight front this port, and expects to be one of the first to reach Nome when the obstructing ice has broken UP- * . , ''-l Arriving; by Hundreds.

ror the last several weeks people have been arriving: here by the hundreds to get ready to make the northward trip, and have filled nil the hotels to such an extent that it has been difficult for transient travelers to Set -accommodations. The steamship offices have been crowded with applicants for berth and freight room, and ^viany of the companies have been refusing passengers for several weeks. Only 2<X> Tickets Yet Available. It is conservatively stated that there * are not more than 200 tickets available on all the steamers that are scheduled to leave here in May. and, most of the freight room has been sold. This means that all those wishing to go to Nome except those who secure the few berths left, must wait until the June sailings, unless they embark on sailing craft, which are leaving this port at the rate of two a day, and have been doing so for the last week. Steaiuahlpa to Leave in Way. £ Twenty-fi ve steamships are scheduled to leave here forborne »nMay,two Nome,except those who secure the few promising to get away the 1st. seven the 10th, three on the 15th, one theon the 17th,two on the 19th, five cn the 20th, one on the 24th, two on the 29th, one on the 30th, one on the ilat. The vessel to sail on the 20th have booked 1.057 passengers and 4,900 tone of general merchandise. This probably* will b* the liveliest day of the year, as several vessels w ill also leave that day for Skagtmv. Traffic iu Xorne this Year. The most conservative estimates of the traffic to Nome this year, based on actual returns, show that 5,838 persons have already engaged passage for the fitst sailings of the 25 steamships, and that these vessels have already contracted for 25,225 tons of merchandise in their cargoes. Taking the average charge of $99 per passenger and $40 a ton for freight, it is seen that the steamships will get a total gross revenue during next month of $1,561,300. Sommer's Carrying Capacity. The operators of 14 of these vessel** state that they intend to make four trips each to Nome during the season, five will make three trips each, and ‘lie remaining six one trip each. The net registered tonnage of the steamers to sail next irtonth is 25,652 tons, or a quarter of the entire toncage departing for Alaska last year. The value of the freight booked for the May sailings; estimated at $100 a tdn, which is a conservative figure, will be GOVERN0R TAYLOR RETURNS. *»>• He Camp Back to Silence the Hnmnrit that He Was Uoilfting Ail Indictmect. Lexington, Ky., April 29.—Gov. W. S. Taylor passed through this city this rooming, from Washington?* en route io Frankfort. He was diet by a large number of .leading citizens at the depot. He stated that he returned to tileuce the rtimors that he was endeavoring to escape indictment. His friends insist that these rumors were started by some one who took advantage of hi^absenee. After attending to the matter of ascertaining whether there is any indictment against him, he will return to Washington. His wife accompanied him. He is looking well and appreciated the fact that his friends met him. A numoer of Lexingtonians will go to Frankfort on Monday to aid him any way within their power. THEY’RE COURTING DEFEAT,

Bloody luHngnntion of a Street Car Strike—CoBdnotor and Motor* niiia Shot. St. Louis, April 20.—After three weeks of unavailing effort to compromise the differences existing between ihc management of the Suburban road and the employes, the long-threatened strike was inaugurated yesterday. Tha crews of 27 cars on both divisions ol the road quitted their ears at the sheds in Be Hodiam >nt and Benton at noon. New men were immediately assigned to the places vacated by tha strikers. The refusal of all the members of the union to walk out angered the strikers, and, at 11 o’clock last night, a murderous assault was made upon the crew of car No. 151 by four n.en, supposed to be strikers or their sympathizers, who shot the motorman and conductor, and then made *neir escape. Fatally Crashed Between Cars. St. Louis, April 30.—-William Henseler, a laborer employed in the St. Louis car works at Bittner street and Conduit avenue, was crsuhed to death between two cars in the sheds at eight o'clock yesterday morning. While engaged wfth several other men in mori ing a car from the trucks he wan caught between the car he was repairing and another car which was backed down, fracturing his left leg below the knee and injuring him internally, j When his companions extricated him, be was unconscious. ...