Pike County Democrat, Volume 31, Number 18, Petersburg, Pike County, 7 September 1900 — Page 7

8w fib 6mmtj5®ftuo(rat X. McC. KTOOP8, Editor mod Proprietor. : INDIANA. PETERSBURG. THE DANCE OF THE CLOTHES. The merry wild breezes are swinging The tops of the cottc^iwood^trees. And chjrnes of the bluebells are ringing In belfries built low for the bees. The long-fingered tendrils are reaching Far out from the wiud-loosened vine. To Join, With shy gestures beseeching. The dance of the clothes on the line. See the little blue sunbonnet nodding Across to the white muslin hood. And the petticoats, soberly plodding , Along, as good petticoats should. See the light-footed, echoless prancing Of stockings that move here and there. As though unseen fairies were dancing . Their mystical rounds in the air. Then the frpllcsome wind, feigning quiet. Creeps Into the empty shirt-sleeves. And tills them with tumult and riot Until not a wrinkle he leaves. He sets the wee pinafores flying Like buttertycs poised In a line. And shakes, with the tenderest prying. The baby-clothes, tiny and fine. Thus follows the wind his vagaries. And laughs with his hand on his side. Till roughened hands, Bridget's or Mary’s, Take down the day’s washing all dried. He pulls the maid’s hair as she passes, And flings her checked apron up high, And then crouches down in the grasses To spring at the next passer-by. —Curtis May, in Youth's Companion. Her Ladyship’s Bangle By Helen Frances Huntington.

vrxum uie noru<* journal. «ew y.orK. Reprinted by Special Permission.) IT WAS distinctively eastern, very beautiful and inconceivably grotesque, a dull-gold spiral circled by deeply graven dragon heads with iridescent eyes that threw out points of green and yellow fire. I caught myself gazing at it fixedly more than once, and as often as I looked I met Bronlcton’s gaze focused on the same object. “A birthday gift,” said Mr. Learning in my ear. “Fanshaw brought it from India, and I understand it represents enormous values.” After supper I met Bronkton and Lady Fanshaw walking down the moonlit path by the lake. Bronkton was always curiously indifferent to public opinion. It was well known that he had courted the beautiful Miss Elverton, and that Fanshaw’s prospects had won the race. Bronkton went to India iqfimediately after the announcement of the engagement, and by a curious freak of fortune met Lady’ Fanshaw on the very first night of his re«'irn to civilization. The present visit was unavoidable; but hf need not have monopolized Lady Fanshaw so markedly. ^

■Lady Fanshaw had changed greatly during those three years of married life, from a delightfully fresh, approachable girl to a very stately unapproachable.woman of fashion, 1 took a seat in a deeply shadowed nook overlooking the lake, and presently Bronkton and Lady Fanshaw re- $ turned and paused directly in front of me. The moon was dazzling; I could see very distinctly every detail' of her dress with its crust of seed pearls, the glint pf her pale-gold hair and the softly outlined profile as cold as saow t against the placid surface of the water. Bronkton stood facing her, his hands clasped behind him, his fine, dark face unusually grave; « “I wish you wouldn’t wear that,” he said, abruptly, looking down at the bangle. “And why?” she asked, raising her arm so that the scintillating gems took fire from the dazzling moonlight. * “Because it is the price of blood money.” “Are you superstitious?” with half forced raillery. “We get to believe things in India,” he admitted, quietly, “because of the inexplicable happenings that followour lives in that strange country.” She looked down at the circle of prisoned fire, still smiling in open scorn. “You arouse my curiosity sufficiently to make me wish to hear a story, but, unfortunately, it has none. It was made for me, and the artificer welded into it all the potential virtues known to mankind, to protect its wearer fwttt i calamity and sudden death.” “lrou mistake,” he answered,calmly; “it belonged to an oriental woman; she wore it on the night of her marriage—” Lady Fanshaw gave him a quick, upturned glance. “Are you sure?" she asked, alertly. “Quite sure. There cannot be two such trinkets in the world. Curious .How things circle back againsrt all conflicting tides. To think that I should see this again, and on your arm!- It w-a.9 at Jeysulmere that I first saw ft. I ;dah see the wearer yet as plainly as though she stood before me! . She was 5 a Rajput, and they are all very beautiful, you know; totally different from any other race in India. She was the daughter of a despot, not too barbarous to understand our kind, but too ploud to care whether she understood us or not. The English had pushed the Old chief to the *wall and sent a man c own to tie him safely in governmental harness. This man, whose name does cot matter, had almost finished, his work when he met the young Rajput queen, and he was so, dazzled by her incomparable beauty that he offered # bis enemy freedom conditional on his daughter’s hand in marriage. The despot greatly feared English vengeance; he paid the price and fled into the wilderness, d*e explanations being invented to satisfy the administration in case it looked into the affair. That was all very simple, you see; but you will not understand the girl’s part of the sacrifice unless you know somer! thing of the Rajput race pride, which ycu do notr-^* /

“Did she care for kirn?” Lady Faiw ah aw interrupted, speaking for the firs* time. Bronkton’a thoughts had gone a-straying while he gazed into the flower-like face before hiflj, and he did not answer-until the spoke again, when he came back to a realization of tangible things with a start. “No,” he answered, gravely, “tt waa not possible with that insurmountable barrier between them; beside, she was a good woman, and she knew by instinct that he was neither good not honorable.” f “And he—did he love her?” “Perhaps, after a fashion, fie told her so, anyway; and she understood that her father’s escape from death or even lifelong imprisonment, which waa far worse, hung upon Her decision.” “And he married her?” Lady Fanshaw asked, looking straight at Bronk

“No. He was too cowardly to fac« social bstracism; the government had placed him in the wilderness; temporarily, and he chose his way to relieve the tedium; but he made her his lawful wife, understand, as far as he« part was concerned, for he submitted to the simple marriage hires of her caste, which to him was nothing more than a meaningless pretense, but it saved her honor. There was another man—a subordinate officer—and she went to him fresh from the sacrifice that bound her to this alien, for, in spite of his smooth words, she mi* trusted him, and—I think she hated him. She demanded to know whether she was his lawful wife in the eyes of his people, and he told her the truth— there was no possibility of evading it in the face of her presence. Hard, wasn’t it?” ' - “It was hard,” Lady Fanshaw echoed, in a clear, cold voice. '“Did she care very much?” “It is hard- to say. I am certain that she did not love him; but we cannot jud^e of Hindus by our standard, for they are deeper than the sea and silent as the grave. Did I tell you that she w’as very beautiful? She wore fairly-wrought garments of cobweb texture, shot with the fires of priceless gems; the bangle seemed even more beautiful than now—pardon me—it was made for her, you know. She stood on the steps "of the old palace awaiting his return till the blue dusk gathered about her and the stars lit up her \yhite-clad figure nebulously. Beside her was a huge vase filled with blood-red dahk flowers, and campaks whose stiff, white petals exhaled the sweet pungent odor of sunless forests. It was very late when her husband returned; he saw her at once and sprang to meet her joyfully, and he spoke, but what she said will never be known. There was a glint of many-prismed fire as she raised her arm to ward off his caress, then it fell back limply and something stirred

I TOOK A SEAT IN A DEEPLY SHADED NOOK. among the flowers, flung up a hooded head and fastened on her wrist just below the golden circlet; again and again it struck the down hanging hand, above and below the jeweled gaud, but she never stirred; her husband, a oftward as well as a liar, was unarmed, and he fell back to summon help, but when his servant reached her she had fallen where she stood, and 'the overturned vase lay at her feet.” Lady Fanshaw's face quivered with irrepressible emotion, and she made as if to turn, but Bronkton’s eyes held her gaze compellingly. ‘‘He was not utterly without feeling,” he went on, quietly; “he left her father the peace which she had purchased so dearly, so her sacrifice was not wholly in vain; but it was a sad ending of a young and innocent life. Do you wonder that I do not like to see that jewel on your arm?” Lady Fanshaw lifted her deathly pale face to his, and their eyes met understanding^’. “And that man?” she demanded, authoritatively. “He is a knave and a coward, but for the sake 'of other lives closely touching his he must be nameless.” “Ah! And the other man?” in un emotionless whisper. _ “Your ladyship’s humble servant.” She raised her jewel-girt arm while Bronkton slipped the^ glittering trinket from its resting place; it dropped from his fingers, glinted over the grassy terrace and cut the rippleless surface of the lake into little glassy wavelets. Her* ladyship’s hand dropped and she shivered as with sudden cold. • “It was not a pretty etory,” she said in the far-off voice of a dreamer, “and yet hers was the easier part!” Bronkton’s gaze followed hers across the widening circles that trailed off into a sheet of molten silver. “I think it was,” he answered slowly. A llovine Flavor, Mrs. Grogan—Oi belave in givin’ til fer tat. Mr. Hogan—Shure, Mrs. Grogan, y^ talk lutke a cow.—Judge,

THE KING’S GARDEN. v ' ! . . j Dr. Talmage Discourses on Christ and the Church. The Moat Beautiful Flowers and the Beat ot Fruit—Why the Saviour Plclcs the Choicest First. [Copyright, 1900, by Louis Klopsch.] Washington, Sept. 2. This sermon Dr. Talmage sends from a halting place in his journey through the valleys of Switzerland. It seems to hare been prepared amid the bloom and aroma of a garden midsummer. The text is Song of Solomon 5:1: “I am come into my

The Bible is a great- poem. We have in it faultless rhythm and bold imagery and startling antithesis and rapturous lyric and sweet pastoral and instructive narrative and devotional psalm; thoughts expressed in style more solemn than that of Montgomery, more bold than that of Milton, more terrible than that of Dante, more natural than that of Wordsworth, more impassioned than that of Pollok, more tender than that Of Cowper, more weird than that of Spenser. This great poem brings all the gems of the earth into its coronet, and it weaves the flames of judgment into its garlands and pours eternal harmonies in its rhythm. Everything this Book touches it makes beautiful, from the plain stones ox the summer thrashing floor to the daughters of Nahor filling the troughs for the camels, from the fish pools of Heshbon up to the Psalmifet praising God with diapason of storm and whirlwind and Job's imagery of Orion, Arcturus and the Pleiades. { My text leads us into a scene of summer redolence. The world has had a great many beautiful gardens. Charlema'gne added to the glory of his reign by decreeing that thej- be established all through the realm, deciding even the names of the flowers to be planted there. Henry IV. at Montpellier established gardens of bewitching beauty and aixuriance, gathering into them Alpine, Pyrenean and French plants. One of the sweetest spots on earth was the garden of Shenstone, the poet. His writings have made but little impression on the world, but his garden, the “Leasowes,” will be immortal. To the natural advantages of that place was brought the perfection of art. Arbor and terrace and slope and rustic temple and reservoir and urn and fountain here had their crowning. Oak and yew and hazel put forth their richest foliage. There was no life more diligent, no soul more ingenious than that of Shenstone, and all that diligence and genius he brought to the adornment of that one treasured spot.

Jtle gave £300 for it. He sold it for several thousand. And yet I am to tell you to-daj* of a richer garden than any I have mentioned. It is the garden spoken of in my text—the garden of the church, which belongs to Christ, for my text says so. He bought it. He planted it, He owns it, and He, shall have it. Walter Scott, in his outlay at Abbotsford, ruined his fortune, and now, in the crimson flowers of those gardens, you can almost think or imagine that you see the blood of that old man’s broken heart. The payment of the last £100,000 sacrificed him. Biit I have to tell you that Christ's life and Christ’s death were the outlay of this beautiful garden of the church, of wtfcicn my text speaks. Oh, how m-.py sighs and teai-s and pangs and agonies! Tell me.ye women who saw Him hang! Tell me, ye executioners vvho lifted Him and let Him down! Tell me. thou sun that didst hide, ye rocks that fell! “Christ loved the church* and gave Himself for ft.’-’ If thel garden of the church belong^to Christ, certainly He has a right to v«ilk in it. Come, then. O blessed Jesus, to-dajf down these aisles and vValk up and pluck what Thous wilt of sweetness for Thyself! The church in my text is appropriately compared to a garden, because it is a place of choice flowers, of select fruits and of thorough irrigation. But I have not to)d you of the most beautiful flower in all this garden spoken of in the text. If you see a century plant, you! emotions are started. You say: “Vpiy, this flower has been a hundred jj-ears gathering up for one bldom, apd it will be a hundred years more before other petals will come out.” But 1 have to tell you of a plant that was gathering up from all eternity and that 1,900 years ago put 4orth its bloom never to wither. It is the passion plant of the cross. Prophets foretold it, Bethlehem shepherds looked upon it in the bud, the rocks shook at its bursting and the dead got up in their winding sheets to see its full bloom. It is a crimson flower—blood at the roots, blood op the branches, blood on the* leaves. Its perfume is to fill all the nations. Its breath is Heaven. Come, oh, winds from the north and windis from the south and winds from the east and winds from the west, and bear to all the earth the sweet smelling savor of Christ, my Lord! His worth if all the nations knew, Sure the whole earth would love Him too, Again, the chureh may be appropriately compared to the garden, because it is a place of fruits. That would be a strange garden which had in it no berries, n^*plums or peaches or apricots. The coarser fruits are planted in the orchard or they are set oift on the sunny hillside. But the choicest fruits are kept in the garden. So in the world outside the church Christ has planted a great many beautiful things—patience, charity, generosity, integrity. But He intends the choicest fruits to be

in the garden, and If they are not there then shame on the church. Religion is not a mere flowering- sentimentality. It is a practical, Kfe giving, healthful fruit, not posies, but apples. “Oh,” says somebody, “I don't see what your garden of the church has yielded!”; Where did your asylums come from? And your hospitals? And your institutions of mercy? Christ planted every one of them; He planted them in His garden. When Christ gave sight to Bartimeus. He laid the cornerstone of every blind asylum that has ever been' built. \Vhen Christ soothed the demoniac of Galilee, He laid the cornerstone of every lunatic asylum that has ever been established. When Christ said to the sick man: “Take up thy bed and walk.” He laid the cornerstone

of every hospital the world has ever seen. When Christ said: “I was in prison and ye visited me,” He laid the cornerstone of every prison reform association that has ever been organized. The church |of Christ is b glorious garden, and it is full of fruit. I know there is some poor fruit in it. I know there are some weeds that ought to be thrown over the fence. I know there are some crap apple trees ’that ought to be cut down. I know there are some wild grapes that ought to be uprooted* but are you going to destroy the whole garden because of a little gnarled fruit? You will find worm eaten leaves in Fontainebleau and insects that sting in the fairy groves of the Champs Elysees. You do not tear down and destroy the whole garden because there are a few specimens of gnarled fruit. 4 I admit there are men and women in the church who ought not to be there, but let us be just as frank and admit the fact that the^e are hundreds and thousands and tens of thousands of glorious Christian men and women—holy, blessed, useful, consecrated and triumphant. There is no grander collection in all the earth than the collection of Christians. There are Christian men in every church whose religion is not a matter of psalm singing and church ^going. To-morrow morning that religion will keep them just as consistent and consecrated in their worldly occupation as it ever, kept them at the communion table. There are women with us to-dey of a higher type of character than Mary of Bethuny. They not only sit at the feet of Christ, but they go out into the kitchen to help Martha in her work, that she may sit there, too. There is a woman who has a drunken husband who has exhibited more faith and patience and courage than Ridley in the fire. He whs consumed in 20 minutes. Hers has been a 20-years* martyrdom. Yonder is a man who has been 15 years on his back, unable to feed himself, yet calm and peaceful as though he lay on one of the green banks of Heaven, watching the oarsmen dip theif paddles in the crystal river! Why, it seems to me this moment as if St. Paul threw to us a pomologisi's catalogue of the fruits growing in this great garden of Christ;—love, joy, peace. ' patience, character, brotherly kindness, gentleness, mercy; glorious fruit, enough to fill all the baskets of earth and

Heavoi. I have not told yotji of the better tree in this garden and of the better frnit. It was planted just outside Jerusalem a good while ago. When that tree was planted,: it was so split and bruised and barked men said nothing would ever grow upon it, but no sooner had that tr£e been planted than it budded and (blossomed and fruited, and the soldiers’ spears were only the clubs that struck down that fruit, and it fell into the lap of the nations, and men began to pick it up and eat it, and they#found in it an antidote fo all thirst, ^o all poison, to all sin, to all death; the.smallest cluster larger than the famous One of Eshcol, which two men carried on a staff between them. If the one apple in Eden killed the race, this one cluster of mercy shall restore. Again, the church in my text is appropriately called a garden because it is thoroughly irrigated. No garden could prosper long without plenty of water. I have seen a garden in the midst of a desert, yet blooming and luxuriant. All around was dearth and barrenness, but there were pipes, aqueducts, reaching from this garden up to the mountains, and through these aqheduets the water came streaming down and tossing up into beautifid fountains until every root and leaf and flower was saturated. That is like the church. The church is a garden in the midst of a great desert of sin and suffering, but it is well irrigated, for “our eyes are unto the hills from whence someth our help.” From the mountains of God’s strength there flow down rivers of gladness. “There is a river the stream whereof shall make glad the city ofouf God.” Preaching the Gospel is one of the aqueducts. The Bible is another. Baptism and the Lord’s Supper are aqueducts. Water to slake the thirst, water to wash the unclean, water tossed high up in the light of the Sun of Righteousness, showing us the rainbow around the throne. Oh, was there ever a garden so thoroughly irrigated? You know that the beauty of Versailles and Chatsworth depends very much upon the great supply of water. I came to the latter place, Chatsworth, one uay when strangers are not to be admitted, but by an inducement which always seemed ^as potent with an Englishman a,s an American I got in, and then the gardener went far up above the stairs of stone and turned on the water. : I saw it gleaming on the dry pavement, coming down from step to step until it came so near I could hear the musical rush,

and all over the high, broad stairs it came, foaming, flashing, roaring down until sunlight and wave in gleesome wrestle tumbled at my feet. So it is with the church of God. Everything comes from above—pardon from above, joy from above, adoption from above, sanctific&tion from above. «

tiouur mat now liod would turn on the waters of salvation that they might flow down through His heritage and that this day we might each find our places to be “Elims” with 12 wells of water and threescore and ten palm trees. Hark! I hear the latch of the garden gate, and T look to see who is coming. I hear the voice of Christ. “I am come into My garden.” I say: “Come in. O Jesus! We have been waiting for Thee. Walk all through the paths. Look at the flowers; look at the fruit; pluck that which Thou wilt for Thyself.” Jesus comes into the garden and up to that old man and touches him and says: “Almost home, father; not many more aches for thee. I will never leave thee. Take courage a little longer, apd I Will steady thy tottering steps, and I will soothe thy troubles and give thee rest. Courage, old man.” Then Christ goes up another garden path, and He comes to a soul in trouble and says: “Peace! All is well. I have seen thy tears. I have heard thy prayer. The sun shall not smite thee by day nor the moon by night. The Lord shall preserve thee from all evil. He will preserve thy soul. Courage, 0 troubled spirit!” Then I see Jesus going up another garden path, and I see great excitement among the leaves, and I hasten up to that garden path to see what Jesus is doing there, and, lo! He is breaking off flowers sharp and clean, from the stem, and I say: “Stop, Jesus. Do not kill those beautiful flowers.” He turns to me and says: “I have come into My garden to gather lilies, and I mean to take these up to a higher terrace for the garden around my palace, and there I will plant them, and in better soil and in better air they shall put forth brighter leaves and sweeter redolence, and no frovst shall touch them forever.” And I looked up into His face and said: “Well, it is Thy garden, and Thou hast a right to do what Thou wilt with it. Thy will be done!”— the hardest prayer a man ever made. It has seemed as it Jesus Christ took the best. From many of your households the best one is gone. You know that she was too good for this world. She was the gentlest in her ways, the deepest in her affection, and when at last the sickness came you had no faith in medicines. You knew that the hour of parting had come, and when, through the rich grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, you surrendered that treasure y6u said: “Lord Jesus, take it. It is the best we have. Take it. Thou art worthy.” The others in the household may have been of grosser mold. She was of the finest. I notice that the fine gardens sometimes have high fences arotind them, and I cannot get in. It is so with a king’s garden. The only glimpse you ever get of such a garden is when the king rides out in his splendid carriage. It is not so with this garden,

IUJO Util. J. tut V1T U1UO open the gate and tell you all to come in. Xo monopoly in religion. Whosoever will may. Choose now beI tween a desert and a garden. Many | of you have tried the garden of this I world’s delight. You have found it I has been a chagrin. So it was with j Theodore Hook. He made all the | world laugh. He makes us laugh now [ when we read his poems. But he i could not make his own heart laugh. While in the midst of his festivities he confronted a looking glass, and he saw himself and said: “There, that is true. I look just as I am— done up in body, mind and purse.** So it was of Shenstone, of whose garden I told you at the beginning of my sermon. He sat down amid those | bowers and said: “I have lost my road to happiness. I am angry and envious and frantic and despise everything around me just as it becomes a madman to do.” 0 ye weary souls, come into Christ’s garden to-day and pluck a little heartsease. Christ is the only rest and the only pardon for a perturbed spirit. Do you not think your chance has almost come? You men and Women who have been waiting year after year for some good opportunity in which to accept Christ, but have postponed it 5, 10, 20, 30 years, do you not feel as if now your hour of deliverance and pardon and salvation ! had come? O man, what grudge hast thou against thy poor soul that thou wilt not let it be saved? Some years ago a vessel struck on the rocks. They had only one lifeboat. In that lifeboat the passengers and crew were getting ashore. The vessel had foundered and was sinking deeper and deeper, and that one boat could not take the passengers very swiftly. A little girl stood on the deck waiting for her turn to get into the boat. The boat came and went, came and went, but her turn did not seem to come. After awhile she could wait no longer, and she leaped on the taffrail and then sprang into the sea, crying to the boatman: “Save me next! Save me next!” Oh, how many have gone ashore into God’s mercy, and yet you are clinging to the wreck of sin! Others have ac.cepted the pardon of Christ, but you are in peril. Why not this moment make a rush for your immortal rescue, crying until Jesus shall hear you and Heaven and earth ring with, the cry: “Save me next! Save umi next!” Now is the day of salvation! Now! Now! » A cod weighing 7% pounds lays near* ly 7,000,000 eggs.

THIRTY OF THE BIGGEST. •l Rati* 11$ Kmhvm &a Pap«Utl«% Which, tr MalatalaeA, Woald Give i he Coantrr 80,000,000.

Washing ;on, Sept. 1.—With the an hounceme it of the population of D» troit the census bureau has com* pleted tht count of the inhabitants of the 30 argest cities of the United States, sharing a total of 13,843,515." Already c<ter 30,000,000 hare been counted, and Director Merriaxn is certain that the entire population returns will In; ready for congress when it meets in December. For some years the opinion has been prevalent that the census of 1904 would she w a total population of 75,000,000. '."he returns from the 34 cities sho v an average increase of almost 30 per ceht., which, if maintained tt rough the country, would mean ths t the population is in the neighborhood of 80,000.000, but it is characteristic of all countries that the town;; grow faster than the country districts, and the larger the city the more rapidly it grows. The great increase h the farming communities has been from Ohio westward to the Dakotas. w The lis; of 30 of the largest cities^ and theit population, is as follows: Greater Hew York, including New Y »rk and Brooklyn.. 3,437,£6! Chicago 1,698,575 Philadelphia. *1,293,691 St. Louii^. 575,23! Boston M,. . 560,891 Baltimjprg^... 508,957 Cleveland . 381,761 Buffalo . 352,211 San FraUcisco . 342,781 Cincinna; :i . 352,211 Pittsburgh . 321,61! New Orleans . 287,104 Detroit jj. 285,704 Milwaukee. 285,31! Washington... 278,71! Newarkf.... 246,071 ■Jersey City. 206,435 Louisvil e . 204,731 Minneap oils ... i. 202,711 Provide ice . 175,591 Indiana Ktlis ........ ..i. 169,164 Kansas City . 163,751 St. Pa if ... 163,631 Rochesf er . 162,431 Denver . 133,851 Toledo . 131,821 Alleghe ay .. 129,3*411 Columbus . 125,561 Omaha .... ..;. 102,55! Total ...13,243,5b STj R-ROUTE mail bids. The P* «t Office Department Will Ma<ice an Endeavor to Head Off Speculative Bidders. Wasl ington, Sept. 1.—The office oi the se< oiftl assistant postmaster general is preparing the usual annual advertise nent, which will be issued about September 15 next, for the carriage »f mails on star routes. This advert sement w ill be of unusual importa* ce, as it is designed to check an all *ged proposed combination ol star-r< ute bidders, and, for the first time, frill require as a guarantee ol satisfy ctory performance of service, that every accepted bidder, wbatevei mhy Xe his, residence at the time oi biddir g, mustagfee to live on or con* tigious to The routeo and personally superintend the performance of service. Thi| general letting will occur in the New England states, New York, Pennsylvania. New Jersey, Delaware, Maryland, Virginia and West Vir-giniai-i It recently has come to the notic< of th d department that certain speculative bidders will seek to secure a nui iber of routes by inducing some locals attorney or other person it each of the counties to allow the use of hi s name as a bidder for a consideration. The law, however, prohibits a iv sub-letting of contracts without the^consent of the postmastei gene rail. '

SECRETARY HAY IMPROVING, He it Able to be Up and Hla Physio ■ian Says There is No Cause for Apprehension. ^ Ccncord, N. H., Sept. 1.—Secretary of S tate Hay; who has been in poos health most of the summer, and who is recuperating at Lake Sunapee, con> tim es to improve. The state of tb« secretary’s health has caused hit friends some uneasiness. . One week ago he was feeling quite ill, and^incc thejr has been in bed part of the tim i. He is able to be up again, and his physician states that there is no cause for apprehension. TfilE KENTUCKY LEGISLATURE. The House is Waiting On the Senate^ ‘ Which Has Adjourned Until Tuesday Next. 1'renkfort, Ky., Aug. 31.—The sea ati; met with a bare quorum and in*> mc-lisUely adjourned till next Tues* da-"morning. The house will meet Saturday, but it is understood the speaker will not appoint the special cotmoittee created to consider all election bills until the senate passes a similar resolution. ESCAPED CONVICTS KILLED. Tie Men Discovered Where' They Kind Camped, and Were /Killed While Making: a Rna For 14. Chattanooga, Tenn., Sept. 1.—Wet Austin and Bob Armstrong, two ea» e iped convicts, were killed, and a third wounded by pursuers near Whiteside, 15 miles from here. Austin* i .'iastrong and Jim Westbrook ea» ctped from the convict stockade at <o*d City, Ga., Monday. Warden iirqck came upon the men cooking t ;* a camp near Whiteside