Rensselaer Standard, Volume 1, Number 20, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 1 November 1879 — Page 1

RELIABLY REPUBLIC AX.. U BUSHED EVEFY SATE>RDA,Y — -BTMSBVIN O. CIBBIL TISMB: one eopy, one Year...... • -* 1 ** at* months " ** “ three months— •» Umct: In Lepold’s Btone BuHdlng, up stairs rear room.

* OCTOBER. ' D. M. Tlw wi* poring wind* are all asleep, swung In a wunmock of • And the beauiliul »ominer lleth dead. Wrapped in * gay autumnal ahroud. * Lying dead a« a queen With robes of crimson *■<* ° f » And the look that come* to the qalet face That u done with fading and growing old. Down In the meadow the brook ta «Ull, Iu pebles white In thaahlMlnf flay. _ And ihe yellow gleam of the golden rod Hhlnee like a sunbeam gone “tray. Weeds that grow by the <Tl “ t Flaunt in the royal purple And the hush of the quiet air****"** By the rush of a thousand flitting wing*. Freeh young wings that hare learned the Out of Se sheltering mother nest Never again to hear the song That U ever the tendereet, truest, best— The cradle lullaby low and sweet, • That hushes the world's rude soundsswaj, And drops.of balm on the weary heart As darkness hides the Ills of the day. Empty nest In the forest deep. And empty nest* In the silent home; Fdr wings will flutter and *osr away, - And feet that we love will learn to roam. And summers will dawn and fade again And the birds come back to build the nest. And every summer that brings us love Will seem the brightest fairest and best. —Richmond independent.

CALLED TO ACCOUNT.

Some years ago, when I was a young man, I was tent down to Evan’s Corners about a big robbery that bad occurred, and while I was there working the thing up, my attention was attracted by a pretty girl I used to see at the hotel where I stopped. Nobody could help noticing such a beauty. Her hair and eyes were 1 dark, but her skin was fair as a lilly, with just a dash of red that came and went iu her Her form was slender, but well rounded, and her hand was us ' white and finely formed as any lady’s hand in the land. Her name was Rose Wynne, and of course, she had plenty _>f admirers, but she coquetted with them all. However, there were two who were a long way ahead of the others. I used to wonder which she liked tiie best, but I could never guess, for while she smiled sweetly on one, she would fling a merry word at the other, and so on. Both' young men were good looking, one fair, the other dark—and both were carpenters. One was called Audrew Davis, and the other Mark Sheldon. Sheldon was a jealous fellow, and •bowed it. Davis was jealous, too, but didn’t show it so plainly. Sheldon was always in a quarrel with her. Davis, I fancied, was angry enough at her coquetteries sometimes to eat her, but he never let on.

Hose Wynne knew I was a detective and had. a sort of awe and curiosity about me. Many a yarn I told her, some true, some not. It was so pretty to see her big eyes kindle aud grow fused to joke her sometinAps aud try and discover which she liked best, Davis or Sheldon. But she would never tell me. “See here, Rose,” I said to her one day when she had been playing those two chaps oft' against each other pretty lively, ‘‘you’ll have those foolish fellows fighting about you if you're not careful.” / \ “I’m muctf more afraid of one of them fighting me,” she laughed. “Which one?” I asked, laughing too; but I thought of Davis’ glowing looks. “Guess,” she said. “They’ve lakh got temper, too much of it.” “Andrew Ihivis hasn’t much temper,” she said. * “I shouldn’t like to belli your skin if you ever jilt him for the other,” I aaswered. “Why not?” she askini. “Never mind.” I said; “but if you ever make up your mind to marry anybody beside Andy Davis, don’t do it 'while he’s around —that’s all.” Rose glance*! to where Davis was at the other end of the veranda, watching" us, though he pretended not. Then she looked back at me. * “Well, you’re solemn enough about it,” she said; “anyoue would think you meant it.” We both laughed, but I said, shaking my heal: “You know that I do mean every word.” • “Well, I’ll tell you what I’ll do.” said Rose. “If any harm ever comes to me through either of them. I’ll promise to come to you, Mr. Sharpe, or send my ghost to tell you who did it. And you must hunt him.down for it. Will you promise me that?” “Yes, I will,” I said; “and there’s my baud upon it.” Aud we shook hands, had a laugh over it. and thought that the last of it, Of courefe. Well, I went away soon after, and it was a year almost to a day before I ever saw the place again. Then I had almost forgotten there was such a person as Rose Wynne. The case I was on was a very im-

poriant oue, and I didn’t want it known I was around at all. So I had disguised myself in a farmer kind of rig, that I don’t believe my own mother would have known me in. I had stopped at a cheap lodging house at the ena of the town, because I suspected some of the gang I was after frequented there, my head was so full of business. , My room was on the ground floor, and the window »as wide open. It was growing dark. It wasn’t a very nice part or the town—lots of roughs about you know; so when I saw a woman standing, all at once there under my window —alone too —I thought it was very queer; but .when she looked up, and I saw it was Rose Wynne, I thought that was queerer yet She was ail in black, even her head was wound 1 about with thick folds of black, and never had I seen her so sad and solemn. She came close to the window and looked up at me. “Mr. Sharpe?” she said. 1 I jumped; for you see I did not think any one would know me, fixed up as was, and I said in a whisper: -“Is it really you, Rose? Don’t speak -s, ioud, please, for I don’t want to be known here.” She went right on without seeming to have heard me. “Harm has come to me,” she said, “and it was Andy Davis. Remember your promise.” And then, all in a flash she was gone, and I couldn’t have told where, up, down, or round the corner of the house; only she’d gone, and I hadn’t seen her * go. As I sat staring out, with her words

THE RENSSELAER STANDARD.

VOL- I.

going through and through my head, I began to feel kind of creepy and odd. Now, I don’t believe 'any one who knows me would call me superstition*. But ail at once, as I sat there, it came over me that may be I had seen Rose Wynne’s ghost Instead of herself. She had certainly spoken and looked very strangely fora living woman. Then I laughed at myself for the fanev. “Sharpe, old fellow,” said I, “you know there are no such things as ghosts. What in the name of common sense are you dreaming of?” And I put on my coat and hat, and weut out into town to see if I could learn any tiling about the business I had come down there upon. Every now and then as I walked along in the darkness the thought of Rose Wynne would come over me with a kind of thrill, and I seemed to hear her saying: “Remember your promise.” I tried to shake off the impression, but all to no purpose, and at last I stepped into a store and said to a clerk, a fellow whom I recognized as one of Rome’s old admirers:

“Is there a young girl living around here by the name of' Rose* Wynne? “Cause I’ve got a letter for her.” “Then you’ve got a letter for a dead woman,” he said. “Rose Wynne is dead; drowned in the river.” “Who did it?” I asked, turning cold. “Did it herself, I suppose. I never heard of any cne else being accused of it.” “And why should she? Where is Andy Davis?” I blurted out before I knew what I was about. “Oh. Andy went away ever so long ago. I guess Rose atid he were engaged. It was thought that they quarreled, maybe, and that was why she drowned herself.” I did not continue the conversation, hut left the store and went hack to my rojm. That night I dreamed that Rose came to my and stood lookiug at me just as she had under my window, aud said: “It was Andy Davis; remember your promise. “Well, I made some more inquiries round and found the general impression was that Rose had drowned herself, just as the clerk had told me. The body Lad never been found, but she was missing, and her handkerchief and gloves, and the hat she wore the night she disappeared, were picked up on the river bank. The water was very swift 'he: e, and it was generally believed the body had drifted out tq the lake.” Well, I had some pretty cuiious thoughts. Was Rose dead or wasn’t she*? At all events there was a mystery, and 1 was just the fellow to ferret it out. The first thing was to find Andy Davis. So, just as soon as I had got through the business I was on, I started on his track, i

I was obliged to hunt for him much longer than I expected, but I fouud him at last. The longer I looked for i him the more I suspected he had soine- | thing ugly on his mind. People with ! clear -consciences ain’t, as a general | thing, so hard to find. Well, as I said, I found him at last, working on a farm I and he a carpenter by trade. He was a good two hundred iniles from Evan’s Corners, and he’d got a hew name besides that. . He dal led himself Thompson, but he couldn’t Thompson me. I knew him the minute I put my eyes on him. He was at supper with the man he was working for and the other farm hands, and I stood and watched him through the kitchen window some minutes. He’d changed a good deal, got thin and yellow, and had a sort of hunted look in liiseyes. That settled his case for me then and there. I never saw the look in an innocent man’s face. The kitchen door stood open, and I walked in without any ceremony, aud going directly up to him I laid my hand on bis shoulder. _ “How do you do, Mr. Davis?” sard j 1 You should have seen him. I’ve had some experience vith frightened men. but I cau safely say with truth, ! that I uever saw one so scared as he was. I never in my life saw a face turn so white as his did. First he jumped up and lookeil round as if he was going 1 to run, then he sat down again and set his teeth hard. You see, he recognized me, and knew that 1 was a detective. “My name ain’t Davis,” said he, glowering at me with eyes like coals. “I don't know you sir.” “Your name is Davis,” and I know you if you don’t know me I answered |ln a low voice. “Who do you suppose sent me here after you?” His eyes almost jumper! out of his i head, aud his teeth would chatter in ! spite of himself. j “Rose Wynne seut me,” I went on, j “you know what for.” Wheu I 9aid that, the wretch fell on ; his knees, and fairly howled for mercy. “I’ll confess,” he shrieked; “I killed her, I did. I’d sworn Sheldon shouldn’t have her, and I killed her to keep her ; from marrying him. She said she’d come out of the grave to hang me, and she has kept her vow.”

I took him hack to Evan’s Corners as fast as he could travel, and lodged him in the prison there. The trial came off in due time. There wasn’t one atom of evidence that he did the deed except his own confession to me. He hadn’t opened his lips to any oue since; and when called upon to plead “Guilty, or not guilty,” the villian answered “Not Guilty, after all. As he said the words there was a slight stir the crowd behind him. He looked round, and something be saw there turned his face chalky. He gave a sort of gasp, staggered upon his feet, and fairly screamed out “Guilty!” and fell down in a fit. They carried him out writhing and foaming at the mouth, and as they did so, a woman dressed in black c&me forward and threw back her veil. It was Rose Wynne alive, and standing before us more beautiful than eve. “He tried to kill me,” she said. “It was not his fault that he did not succeed. I had been engaged to marry Mr. Sheldon a long time, but because my father was opposed to him and favored Mr f Davis we kept the engagement a secret from every one. I had gone out that night, by appointment, to meet my promised husband, and as I was crossing on the railroad bridge over the river. Andrew Davis came from the other side and met me. He told me if I did not promise to marry him then and there he’d throw me into the water. I was always afraid of him; he had such a savage look in his eyes sometimes. I knew him to be terribly jealous of Mark

RENSSELAER, INDIANA, SATURDAY., NOVEMBER 1. 1879.

Sheldon. But I would not promise him anything of the kind. I could not believe he would really carry out his threat, and I expected Mark would come every minute. “When he took hold of me, and I saw he was in earnest, and really intended to drown me, I struggled with him, and told him if he did harm me, I’d have him hung for tt. And I also told him I was going to marry Mark Sheldon, and that I had come out there to meet him. For I thought perhaps it would scare him if he thought Mark was anywhere around. But he suddenly snatched my shawl oft me and wound it round my head to keep my screams from being heard, and the next moment he lifted me in his arms and threw me into the river. He did not know that I was an expert swimmer; but before I could free myself from the folds of the shawl I had gone under the water twioe. Th* second time I rose to he surface I swam toaard the bank, but the current was so swift I would inevitably have bee'n drowned if Mark had not come just then in time to save me. Davis had run away as fast as he could, aud he did not know that he had failed in killing me, after all. The shock was a dreadful one to me, and my fear of Andy Davis was so great that I begged Mark to hide me from him, and from every one, and let it be supposed that I was dead. So then we were married, and went away from this part o* the country for several months, till we heard that Davis had gone away, when we returned. But I kept close, aud let no one but my own folks know I was alive, for I was determined that Davis should be punished in some manner. So I never went out without a thick double veil over my face, for I was afraid of Davis yet. “Then, one evening I was riding along in a carriage with my husband, when I saw Mr. Sharpe sitting at a window. He was disguised but I recoguized him, and I remember that he had once promised to help me if ever 1 needed his services. So I went up to the window quietly aud spoke to him, and told him about Davis, that is all. I didn’t want the man hung, of course; but I hope he won’t be allowed to murder me, as I am sure he will want to when he finds I’m not dead.” But Davis was past doing any one any further injury. The wretch went from one fit to another and finally died, literally frightened to death. And so his sin had certainly found him out.

A Cure for Slander.

The following very homely but singularly instructive lesson is by St. Philip Neri: A lady presented herself to him one day, accusing herself of being given to slander. “Do you freaueutly fall into this fault?” inquired le saint. “Yes, father, very often,” replied the penitent. “My dear child,” said the saint, “your fault is great, but mercy Is still greater. For your penance, do as follows: Go to the nearest market, purchase a chicken just killed aud well covered with feathers; you will then walk to a certain distance, plucking the bird as you go along; your walk finished, you will returu to me.” ■ Great was the astonishment of the lady iu receiving so strange a penance; but, silencing all human reasoning, she replied: “I will obey, father; I will obey.” Accordingly, she repaired to the market, bought the fowl, and set out on her journey, plucking it as she went along, as she had been ordered. In a short time she returned anxious to tell of her exactness in accomplishing her penance, and desirous to receive some explanation of one so singular. “Ah,” said the saint, “you have been very faithful to the first part of my orders; now do the second part and you will be cured. Retrace your steps, pass through all the places you have already traversed, and gather up, one by one, all the feathers you have scattered.” “But, father,” exclaimed the poor woman, “that is impossible. I cast the feathers carelessly on every side; the wind carried them in different directions; how can I now recover them?” “Well, my child,” replied the saint, “so it is with your words of slander. Like the feathers which the wind has scattered, they have been wafted in many directions; call them back if you can. Go, and sin no more.” History does not tell if the lady was converted, but it is probable. It required a saint to give the lesson; one would be a fool not to profit by it.

Enforce the Game Law.

New Albany Ledger-Standard. This is the season of the yeatr for the city hunter to depredate upon his countrymen in the rural districts. Gardeners near the city and farmers in the country have their trials and tribulations with the smart city chaps. There are a few persons who, at this season of the year make their regular raids for recreation and sport, but seldom bag game sufficient to pay for the powder burned. The “plod hoppers,” as the smart Alecks term farmers and gardeners, fairly shudder at the approach of what is called the hunting season. Even the cattle, the geese, chickens and ducks and innocent birds fear the standing collar hunter. Full grown men, half grown boys with dogs, guns and pistols, seem to swarm and pervade every road, lane, field and yardway within many miles of cities and towns. The hunter seems to be abroad in the land and they are often dangerous to even the lives of country people. The damage to fences, jrops, stock and poultry yards which these depredators infect is a very large item of loss. But it Is nothing in comparison with the actual loss to the crops from the wholesale slaughter of insectivorous birds. These, to be sure, are protected by law; but the law is really never eu forced. If the destroying vagabond be a stranger, the former is afraid to interfere with him lest he return and burn his buildings at night. Il he is the son of a neighbor or of a resident of the next village, he will not incur the displeasure of his family by a prosecution. And so the .birds suffer in myriads, and the worms and insects come down unopoosed upon the growing crops and fruits; and the aggregate damage would be appalling if it could possibly be ascertained in figures. It has been gravely asserted by men who have given the subject serious and patient study,that the locust and grasshopper pests, which, from time to lime devastate some of our western states and territories, are due to the Wholesale destruction of the game birds of the Rocky mountain slopes and the Mississippi valley. Prof. Rilev, state etomologist of Missouri, »declared that one grouse would in a season oon-

sume eggs and larvae of locusts enough, if hatched out, to destroy the crops upon one hundred acres of land. These birds are the guards which nature has set over the fields, and we might as well poison the soil as to remove them from their appointed work. And what the grouse is to the western farmer the beautiful Virginia partridge is to the eastern —for it comes in numbers proportioned to the fields sown, and takes as the recompense of its guardianship of the young crops only the scattered grains of the harvest. Even the ungainly crow has at last found favor in the eyes of the husbandman. He pays for the few grains he steals from the first planting by an incessant warfare upon countless unseen enemies of the corn. But these are not all. The trees, the hedges, and the grass are alive with smaller birds which contribute their share to the security of field and orchard, and which are swept away in multitudes by the foolish gunners who infest the country from the first of October to the first of January.

A Midget.

Chicago Inter-Ocean. A visitor from fairy-land. What else ean it be. that atom of a baby, folded up in fresh white muslin, until one could fancy Jt was a huge white rosebud, its tiny pink face answering for the heart! thought your correspondent as she looked at an atom of humanity called Frankie Flomm, only three weeks old, and weighing just eleven ounces, and in length five inches, and two and a half across the chest. “Not a bit has he grown since the day he came into this world,” said his mother, with an air of pride, “and as good a baby as you can find.” To prove the truth of her assertion, Master Frankie, after the manner of babies, began to cry. But what a cry! His mouth looked like an exclamation point, and a wee one at that; aud as for voice, the buzz of au angry fly would have drowned it. Mrs. Flomm gently picked him up, aud, laying him in the hollow of one brawny hand, softly patted him with the other, in the same way that ladies clap hits of delicate old lace. The exclamation point changed into a period, adn thecoral bead of a mouth assumed a faint smile. I took its little hand, like)a snow-flake, in mine, and slipped a lady’s ring right over it for a bracelet, the tiny fingers being smaller round than a slate pencil. He is veiy pretty* lias bright eyes and a light fringe of hair crosses his forehead; in point of looks he will carry away the palm from Lucia Zarate, the queer little Mexican, who, with her $20,000, has retired from the public for the present. If little Frankie Flomm lives, and the physioians say he will, he will be the prize pigmy, for one could put him to sleep in a lily cup, with a leaf for a blanket, the breeze to rock him and pass him off for a fairy fed by the little birds. At present, he reposes in a doll’s wicker cradle, with a handkerchief for a sheet, a mother’s voice and breath for a breeze and a lullaby, which is, perhaps, more healthy, if less poetic. i

“Cutting Out” on a Colorado Cattle Ranch.

November’s Harper. Ouly the first purpose of the “round up” has been subserved when the cattle are collected. Next the cows and calves must be “cut out,” and we saw the “cow boys” ride into the herd, single out the cow (with calf following) and wilh great skill extricate her from the throng. The young calves are, of course, not yet marked, but the presence of one with a cow makes it imperative to place that cow’s mark on it. Strayed calves, on the other hand, (called “Mauvrics,”) from an old Frenchman iu Texas who is Baid to have added largely to his worldly store by a systematic abduction of the waifs and stays), are sold for the benefit of the associated ranchmen. “Firstcatch your calf,” as Mrs. Glass would say. "Perhaps you may think that this is an easy task; but you would find, if you tried it, that you were never more mistaken in your life, for the ease with which the raucheros accomplish it has come with careful training and long practice. The little animal runs wonderfully fast, springs, turns, and dodges almost like a fiash; but tne cow-boy never takes his eyes off of him, and the trained horse, now well warmed up and entering fully into the spirit of the chase, responds to, almost seems to anticipate, every turn of his rider’s left hand and wrist. Meanwhile the latter with his right arm is swinging his noosed rope, or lasso, and in another minute he has thrown it exactly over the calfs head. Instantly the horse plunges forward, giving “slack” to the rope, and allowing it to be wound around the horn of the saddle; then he moves on, dragging the calf after him, aud the little creature is soon in the hands of the men with the brandingirons. These have been heated in a hot fire, and are quickly applied, and in a few minutes the calf, now indelibly designated as the property of his master, is again running about.

A Prince’s Wife and Uniforms.

The London correspondent of the Paris American Register says: Everybody is saying that they have never seen the Princess of Wales more radiant than she is of late, not even on the morning, sixteen years ago, when, In that jaunty hat and mauve poplin dress, she stepped ashore at Gravesend, and afterwards rode through London streets taking triumphant possession of all our hearts. At the Greenwich School last week she looked almost as young and quite as charming in a costume of black and white striped silk; and it was easy to see how proud she is of her boys and of her husband, who wore the uniform of Captain in the Naval Reserve, with aiguilletee as aide-de-camp to the Queen, and with a few miniature orders on his left breast. I wonder how many uniforms H. R. H. possesses? Shall we see? He is Field Marshal, Colonel of the 10th Hussars and the Rifle Brigade, Colonel of the Norfolk Artillery Militia, Captain-Gen-eral of the Honorable Artillery Company, Colonel of the Civil Beryice Rifles, Colonel of the Oxford University Rifles, Colonel of the Cambridge University Rifles, Colonel of the Sutherland Rifles, Elder Brother of the Trinity House, Captain in the Royal Naval Reserve; but here I stop for breath, uncertain if I have exhausted the list. Of course, each of these positions has its appropriate uniform. South Bend has a successful artesian well.

BORN ON THE CARS.

A Delicate Girl Becomes a Mother Under Unpleasant Circumstances and Surroundings. a A marriage certificate signed by “John Buckland, minister of the gospel,” dated at Greenfield, Ky., September 15,1878, certifies that Mr. W. H. Byers, of Cincinnati, was married to Miss Louise S. Smith, also of this city on that date. The witnesses were John Buckland and Elizabeth 8. Buckland. Mr. W. H. Byers is the well known lumber merchant of Freeman street, of the firm of James Dunlap A Co. The bride is the daughter of Mr. Wm. B. Smith, generally known as “Policy Bill Smiih,” of 522 West Court street. The fact that Mr. Byers and Miss Smith were married over one year ago was not known to the parents or to the most intimate friends of both parties, until a few weeks ago. Some three or four months ago Mr. and Mrs. William B. Smith, in company with their charming daughter, Miss Louise 8. Smith, left their elegant and handsome home on West Court street for a tour of the northwest. Mr. Henry Byers had been a frequent visitor at the home of Mr. Smith for several months before the departure of Mr. and Mrs. Smith and their daughter for the west, paying devoted attention to Miss Louise. Mr. Smith had objected to the attentions of Mr. Byers to his daughter, not that he had anything Krsonal against Mr. Byers, but simply cause he thought his daughter too young to receive any attentions of a character looking toward marriage, and the attentions of Mr. Byers were of this nature. Mr. Smith had suffered greatly from the unfortunate marriage of* his eldest daughter, Mrs. Deshler, and was retuctant about giving his second daughter up to the uncertainties oj married life. The attentions of Mr. Byers upon their daughter, up to the time of Mr. and Mrs. Smith’s departure for the “far West” were not so frequent as to cause remark. But we are informed that Mr.

Smith had frequently said that his daughter Louise should never marry with his consent. Mr. and Mrs. W. B. Smith and daughter Louise had enjoyed a pleasant and delightful visit of three months at San Francisco and on the Pacific Coast, and were started on their way home. Arriving at Denver City, Colorado, Miss Smith was attacked with severe pains and a deathly sickness at the stomach. A physician was called in and the parents were made acquainted with the fact that their darling daughter was about to tiecome a mother. Their surprise and grief was great, so great that Mrs. Smith was almost paralyzed with fllness aud compelled to go to her bed. However, wheu their daughter informed tnem that Mr. W. Henry Byers, of Richmond street was the rather of her child, and that they were legitimately married, aud had been tor over a year, the grief of Mr. and Mrs. Smith was, to a certain extent, alleviated; they were somewhat comforted. The daughter recovering sufficiently to travel with her mother, Mrs. Smith, she started for home, leaving Mr. Smith to attend to some mining business in Colorado. The doctor told both Mrs. Smith and Mrs. Byers that she (Mrs. Byers) could safely reach home before her labor pains would some on, but the doctor was mistaken. On Sunday morning last, as the St. Louis train was nearing the city, the young bride of Mr. Byers was taken severely ill, and by nine o’clock, when the train reached the city, was iu severe labor. At a few minutes after nine, while on the cars, she was delivered of a fine, healthy boy of eleven pounds. The physician who was called to the deliverance of Miss Louise M. Smith, now Mrs. W. Henry Byers, was, we are informed, Dr. McMeehan. The delicate and fair young mother was conveyed, upon the arrival of the train, with her bouncing boy to the home of her mother on West Court street, where she now lies kindly cared for by her mother and sister, Mrs. Deshler, and other kind friends! The mother and baby, we are glad to say, are doing well. Aud so ends our story of the romantic, unusual, but happy marriage of Mr. W. H Byers and Miss Louise S. Smith, of thracity. Their marriage was clandestine, but, now that it is made public to their friends and the world we hope that the congratulations of friends will be in order. —[Cincinnati Enquirer.

An Iowa Heroine.

An adventure in which a brave Des Moines lady was the heroine, came to light yesterday for the first time, although the incident occurred several days ago, the lady having kept the matter quiet for reasons of her own. The heroine of the story is Mrs. W. H. Hyde, who lives on Sixth street, near Crocket.

About S o’clock in the morning she was awakened from a sound slumber by a noise at one of the rear windows of her bed room. There was no light in the room, but the moon was shining brightly outside, and by its light she discovered a fellow at woik cutting one of the lower slats of the blind. Mrs. Hyde’s husband was out of town, and she had no weapons with which to defend herself and property, but she had a stout heart and a strong will, and, as subsequent events will prove, nerves steady enough for the emergency. When Mrs. Hyde discovered the man he had cut nearly through the blind, and would soon have been in the room. There was no time to be lost, and her plan of action was hastily decided on. Stealing out of her bed she crept qnietly on her hands and knees by a route which the burglar could not see, to the door of a hall, from which a staircase led down to the basement of the building, Mrs. Hyde’s room being in the story above the basement. Decendingto the basement the undaunted woman searched for a hatchet, with which she meant to attack the fellow who was seeking to burglarously enter the house. Not finding the hatchet, she seized two bee' bottles, one empty and one filled, and with one in each hand made her way back to the bed room. ■ \ f By the time she returned the burglar had one of the blinds open, and was preparing to open the other. Swiftly, silently and unobserved, she gained a position by the side of the window on which the blind had been opened. From her position here she could see that the man was standing on the ladder which had been placed against the wall. Before attempting to open the

seoond blind he stuck his head into the chamber to see if all was right As he did so Mrs. Hyde raised the empty bottle and brought it down on the rascal’s head with a force which shivered it into atoms. Not a word had been spoken, not a sound made during all this time, and, as the viliian recoiled after receiving the Mow and threw open the closed shutter. Mrs. Hyde, with the other bottle clutched in her hand, changed her position to the other side of the window, so she could strike better and with more effect in case the rascal resumed his attempt.

Silently she stood there determined to defend her home to the last; cool, 2uietand collected, but ready to give II her possessions for a revolver. A few seconds passed and then the fellow again appeared at the window. As everything was so still, be evidently made ut> his mind that the blow he had received was from some falling article, and that the way was yet open to carry out his scheme of robbery. * •> Again the head appeared, and again the silent woman, nerved with desperate energy, used her means of defense. The bottle descended with a dull thud on the side of the fellow’s head, and he either fell from the ladder or else descended it in a terrible hurry, for in a moment after, when Mrs. Hyde stuck her head out of the window, she beard a man say, “Oh, my God!” and then saw him stealing away out of the yard. She watched him for some distance, and saw him join another man and the two disappeared, and then stood guard untH daylight, when she discovered blood over the ladder, on the wall, aud on the window casing, showing that she had done her work effectually. The fellow made no attempt to return, and Mrs. Hyde kept the adventure to herself for two or three days, for fear a publication of the story might lead the fellows to return. But she has a revolver and a husband to protect the premises now, and the next burglar will be apt to get a fatal dose. The pluck, coolness and nerve displayed Dy this lady are wonderful, and she deserves to be placed in the ranks with other Western heroines. —[Des Moines Register.

Indians at School.

A telegram from Carlisle, this State, gives the information that on Monday First Lieutenant R. H. Pratt, of the Tenth United States cavalry arrived at Carlisle Barracks, with 84 Indians— 61 boys and 23 girls. Eighty-two belong to the Sioux tribe, 18 of this number (twelve boys and six girls) coming from the old Red Cloud (now Pine Ridge) agency on White Earth creek, Dakota, now In charge of Agent Maj. V. McGilcuddy. Among these are children of such noted chiefs as American Horse, High Woif and Black Bear. Sixty-four—forty-seven boys and seventeen girls—come from the old Spotted Tail (now Rosebud) agency iu Dakota, now in charge of Agent Maj. C. Newell. Among these are five children, four boys and .'one girl, of the noted chief Spotted Tail, one boy of White Thunder, and boy and one girl of Black Crow, one girl of Good Voice, one girl of Brave Bull, one boy of Standing Cloud, &c. The remaining two boys are from the Menominee tribe of Wisconsin. They are all from 12 to 18 years of age, except five, whose ages range from Bto to 12. Three thousand assembled at the Spotted Tail agency to see them off. The parting scene was an affecting one. Many of the tribe, including the chiefs, manifested a parental feeling by weeping when they took leave of the children. As is customary on such occasions, the chiefs made gifts of 300 horses ana ponies. At Red Cloud agency about 1,500 were assembled to see their children off, the chiefs making gifts of fifty horses. Throughout the journey they were submissive and contented. Looking through their quarters at the barracks the correspondent found them all enoying themselves in their own way, aud seeming perfectly satisfied with their situation andsurroundings. But few can speak English. At present they are clad in their native dress, but it is the intention of Lieut. Pratt to have them adopt our habits in dress as fast as practicable. An interpreter accompanied the party from Dakota. It is the design of the departments to educate them and instruct them in matters pertaining to industry and Christianity. By a recent order of the war department the barracks of Carlisle have been turned over to the Interior Department for this purpose. At the last session ol Congress a bill was introduced authorizing the transfer to the Indian department of any vacant barracks for this purpose; also the necessary detachment of a limited number of officers, who are now in connection with the work of education among the Indians. A favorable report upon the bill had been made to both houses of Congress and will doubtless pass at next session. Carlisle barracks are beautifully located, just east of Carlisle, and embrace about thirty acres of ground. Lieutenant Richmond and six men from Second United States heavy artillery ha>e charge of the barracks at present. -For seventy years these barracks have been used by the Government as a training school for cavalry to fight the Indians, and now these representatives of those warlike tribes have possession of them, not by conquest, but through the spirit of philanthropy.—[Pittsburgh Dispatch.

Death of a Noted Divine.

At the family residence, Hopkinsville, Ky., Sept. 30th, 1879, in his 79th I ear, the Rev. Gideon B. Perry, D. D. u L. D., late rector of Grace Episcopal Church in that city: formerly rector of Trinity Church. Natchez, Miss., first rector of St. Paul’s, Cleveland, Ohio; for some time at Grace Church there, and founder of St. James’ Parish, Cleveland, also. The Rev. Dr. Perry was the last surviving kinsman eotemporary of Commodore Oliver Hazard Perry, the hero of the battle of Lake Erie: Both were natives of South Kingston, Rhode Island, and born under the same roof; the Rev. Dr. on Oct. 12th, 1800, some years junior of the other. Dr. Perry for more than fiftyseven years in the Christian Ministry, was a prominent divine of the Church, and stood high, especially for force ami pulpit eloquence. The Rev. Henry G. Perry, of the Episcopal City Clergy, Chicago, is a son of the deceased. The Rev. Dr. Perry leaves a family, his widow and three children surviving him. California voted nearly unanimously at the recent election against Chinese immigration.

Tlis Stsu^dLsixcL, * RESSSELAEB, IXD. RATES OF ADVERTISING: One oolnmn, one year...... SNQI Hair column, one year 40 00 quarter column, one year. JU 00 to Eighth column, one year.... 10 to Busmss Cleans SAW a year. KUDrae MOTTOES- ...A ccqU a line. JOB PRINTING Of all kinds neatly and cheaply executed Hates on application. 4

NO. 20.

A car bunk’ll do, if it is In a Pullman and not your neck. At a spelling match one man spelled “pasnip” and got beet. A Delaware avenue girl calls her beau Lucifer because he is such a good match., A new pair 01 pandyloons may confer der leiks of a fool, but vhen his inout vas go open der fool jumps out. A minister up at Oshkosh Cribbed a sermon from Dr. McCosh, And soared with such flights That his listeners said it was bosh. An exchange tells of an absentmiuded man who got in a barber-chair pinned the newspaper round his neck - and began to read the towel. Mother (very sweetly) to children who have just had a distribution of candy—“ What do children say when they get candy?” Chorus—“ More” The worst reason for not drinking " water comes from an exchange which says a Western editor refuses to drink water because since the deluge it has tasted of sinners.

“Eugenia, Eugenia, will you still insist on wearing the hair of another woman upon your head?” “Alphonso, Alphonso, do yov insist upon wearing the skin of another calf upon your feet. “We wish,” says a Texas newspaper, “that a few of our citizens could.tie permitted to live till they d’ed a natural deatli, so as to show the* world what a magnificently healthy country Texas really is.” Lightning has been accused of some, strange freaks lately. One day last week it struck a Jersey editor in the throat, and passed down to his stomach. He paid his 10 cents and it didn’t hurt him a bit. When the girl who has encouraged a young man for about two years suddenly turns around and tells him that she can never be more than a sister to him, he can for the first time see the freckles on his nose. A swain wrQte to his friend: “You asked what kind of game I am playing with Jack Graham for Clarissa’s hand. I have to say in reply that it is a game of double or quits, and the result is I double and he quits.” “Never leave what you undertake until you can reach your arms around it and clench your hands on the other side!” says a recent published book for young men. Very good advice; but what if she screams? An unfortunate nc istake—Magistrate, “You are charged with having emptied a basin of water over the plaintiff.” Irish woman: “Sure, yer honor, ye must forgive me; in the dark I took the gentleman for me husband.” A poetess sings, “I love thee every hour.” That’s right. Girls who love a fellow only four or five hours out of the twenty-four, and bestow their affections upon several other chaps uuring the remaining hours of the dayare what the New York custom officers would call “fraud in silk.” They should love him every hour, or not at all. .

Little Billy has been taken to see his old uncle, who is so deaf that he cannot hear a single word without recourse to his ear-trumpet. Billy watches the movements of his instrument for some time with great interest, and then exclaims: “Mamma, what does uncle try all the time to play the horn with his ear for, when he can’t make it go?” A Yorkshire trainer lately revealed his method of meeting a conjugal storm. His plan, he said, was to keep silent and nod his acquiescence to everything, no matter what was said by his spouse. “Yes,” remarked one of his friends, “but then she has it all her own way.” “Just so,” replied the Tyke, with satisfaction; “and nothing annoys her so much. There is nothing women hate like a walk over.” A bold, bad burglar recently broke into the house of an editor in the watches of the night. The editor awakened and questioned the intruder: “What do you want here? What look you for?” Said the burglar, gruffly, “Money.” “Hold on a minute,” quoth the editor, “and I will help you; I’ve been looking myself for ten years, hut perhaps the two of us may have better luck.” Then was the burglar much disgusted, but the editor called it a joke, and insisted that the burglar ought to set ’em up. A friend and neighbor has a relative, a practical Christian, who has a practical way of putting things. Recently the subject of death-bed repentance was under discussion; when she said: “Some men think they can live any kind of life, yet save their souls by a so-called repentance a few hours before death; put I have my doubts as to how that kind of washing will dry when hung out on the heavenly, clothes-line.”

How is this bud of posey, from a tender Sabbaih school plant—a little gyurl who is destined to fill country papers and autograph albums and—waste baskets with ner later efflorescence? \\ . Oh, what a thing la love! It coineth from above, 1 And ’lighteth like a dove On some. , Bat some It never hits, * J* Except to give them fits And take away their wits— WV ' Oh, hum! Mother to her daughter just seven years old—“ What makes you look so sad, Carrie?” “Carrie, looking at her baby brother three weeks old—“I was just thinking that in about ten years from now, when I shall be entering company, and having beaux, that brother of mine will be just old enough to bother the life out of ms.” There was an old gent of Rhode Island. Who got a most terrible bile, and He scowled, and he growled, and most horribly howled— Did this crabbed old gent of Rhode Island-' An English writer has been sharply criticising the management of the London public schools, known as the “Board Schools,” and produces the* following specimens of the written examinations of some of the scholars: Question—“ Where is Turin?” Answer—“ Tureen is the eapiptal of Cliiner; the peepul there lives on burds nests and has long tails.” Question—- “ What do you know of the patriarch Abraham?” Answer—“He was the father of Lot and ad tew wifes, wun was called Hishmale and the t’other Haygur. He kept wun at home and he turned the t’other into the desert, where she became a pillow of salt in the day time am 1 p nfflow of fire at nite.”

CONDIMENTS.