Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 21, Number 20, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 1 December 1899 — Page 3

The Sea King

@~-A ROMANCE OF THE WAR OF 1812,-s® ■

CHAPTER I. Many years ago there stood upon the banks of the Schuylkill a mansion, at that time much admired for the beauty and chastity of its construction. It was one of those old-fashioned tenements that may be seen even now in some cities of Virginia and Maryland. It consisted of a main building and two smaller wings, a huge flight of marble steps conducted to the main entrance, and the upper stories were lighted by oriel windows; in front, a long graveled avenue interspersed with Lombardy poplars, and terminating with an arched gateway at the roadside, afforded a passage through the domain; and in the rear, at the foot of the ascent, upon the summit of which stood the dwelling, were situated the barn, stables and carriage houses. The grounds in the vicinity were laid out in flower beds, redolent with all the roses of America, and long arched arbors of blushing grapes flanked the garden on either hand; to the right a beautiful summer house rose from the pinnacle of a steep rock, and round and about its slender columns bloomed the white jasmine, the yellow marigold and the azure violet. From this site the view was magnificent. On the right, far as the eye could reach, were seen the blue waters of the Delaware stretching away to seaward, broken here and there by headlands, and dotted in many parts of its surface by vessels passing to and from Philadelphia; on the left and in front, on the further side of the further river, were seen the green fields and forests of New Jersey; immediately under your feet flowed the glassy waters of the Schuylkill, and between the two streams rose the city itself, like some vast panorama set in a frame of glittering silver. It was a sunny morning in the loveliest month of the year, a gentle breeze came sweeping along laden with the fragrance of every flower it passed, rippling the waters of the river, and showering its perfume and freshness amid the streets of the city; the grass was yet moist, and the big dewdrops still sparkled upon the odorous lilac; the carol of a thousand birds swelled in the glad air, and the lowing of cattle and bleating of flocks imparted an animation to the rurality of the scene which was enchanting. A single individual sat gazing upon the scene from one of the parlors of the mansion, but its harmony seemed to mock him, for there was a deep frown upon his brow, and his eye glowed with The age of the stranger was nearly half a century; his countenance had evidently been at one time handsome, but fierce and unconquerable passions had planted lines there that left but few traces of former beauty. It was evident, from the frequent and impatient glances he cast toward the door, that he was in waiting for someone; twice he reached for the bell string, but as often paused on hearing a noise without; at length, however, when his patience had become well nigh exhausted, the door opened, and a youth of sixteen entered the apartment. For a moment they mutually observed each other in silence, the father scowling with wrath and the son looking him calmly but not disrespectfully in the eye. Harry Sutherland had viewed the angry cloud upon his parent’s brow too often in his life to be awed by the storm it betokened, and he stood up before him collected almost to indifference. “Did you wish to see me, pa?" asks the boy, with a composure that irritated his sire more than perhaps the offense for which he was arraigned. “Wish to see you, sir!” repeated the father in a loud,' angry and sarcastic tone; “no, sir, I never wished to see you —never; I would be glad, sir, if you were removed to some remote corner of the earth, where your presence could never offend my eyes, and where reports of your disobdience and bad conduct could never reach my ears.” The son made no reply; for words from him, he well knew, could not assuage the wrath of his exasperated father. “You are notorious for discreditable actions, sir,” resumed the angry parent: “your very name is a synonym with infamy, you are a disgrace to both yourseff and me.” % *But, father, I have not disobeyed you/ in this matter; you accuse me wrongfully this time, for I will convince you, if you will do me the favor to listen dispassionately for a moment, that I am totally innocent.” “Don’t attempt to reason with me. sir!” exclaimed the sire. “And hark ye, young man, in after years, when your profligacy shall have involved you in difficulty and disgrace, tell it not that I caused your ruin; recollect, sir, that I have taken with you all the pains a father could bestow upon the most obedient child; and what has been the result—how have you repaid me?” “But, father, let me explain ” “Don’t father me, sir,” interrupted the parent, “you are no son of mine—no, son of mine; from henceforth I disclaim you —I disown you—l <!enounce you; there runs not a drop of my blood in your veins '—nßt a drop, not one drap;” and as he concluded, he sprang from his chair and commenced pacing the apartment, muttering incoherent invectives at every stride. Harry Sutherland had at first borne the angry tempest of his father’s wrath with composure and meekness; but when the sire, inflamed by passion, rejected and denied him, his face turned as pale as death, and he trembled in every limb from excessive agitation. The distress of the son was unperceived at first by the father, but when .he raised his eyes and discovered the emotion which his harsh words had aroused in the breast of his child he stopped suddenly, and his features waxed into a milder but still repulsive expression. “You were saying,” said he, in a lower “that you could explain away your oftow Qi: ltrt t nifhtu hope you . will be

By CAPTAIN MARRYAT.

“I am sorry I cannot oblige you,”, said the son, with apparent mildness. “How, sir! did I not understand you to say that you could clear up the matter in a satisfactory manner?” “I could have done so, had you permitted me when I first'proposed It; it would be'supererogatory to attempt it now.” “Why so, sir?” demanded the father, sharply; “if it was then in your power, is it not equally so now?” “It is too late now, sir.” “Convince me that I have been mistaken.” “It matters not now, sir. I have been rebuked for the offense.” “And you will not undeceive me?” “No, sir.” The father hesitated a moment, as if in doubt as to the proper course to be pursued. At first he was disposed to become again enraged; but when he met the calm, bold, blue eyes of his high-spirited son, he became at once convinced that such a measure could be productive of no good consequence. “Stubborn boy!” said he, at length, biting his lips with vexation, which he in vain endeavored to conceal. Harry saw the anguish of his sire; he felt his own triumph, too; and, though it was a proud moment for him, he was too generous to take advantage of his mastery. He could not injure the feelings of a father, though that father had never spared his; he was touched, and in mercy he resumed. “After the acknowledgments you have to-day made, I cannot longer remain an inmate of your house. The obligations I am under to you are and shall never be forgotten, though they can never be repaid. I am not wanting in gratitude, sir, though I may have been in rectitude; and that my unfortunate, though involuntary, errors may not in future disturb your equanimity, I shall perpetuate them in another sphere. Farewell, sir,” and as he concluded be suddenly withdrew from the apartment, leaving his father motionless with amazement.

“Come back, my -Harry, come back!” exclaimed the miserable parent, when surprise at length permitted him to speak. bu£ no reply broke the dead silence that succeeded. Where were now the violent passions of that proud man? He turned pale, trembled, and a tear moistened his eye; he tottered to the window, raised the sash, and was just in time to obtain a parting glance of his offended boy, as he descended a knoll on his way to the city. Though Harry Sutherland was but a youth in years and experience, he was a man in feeling and character. Like all persons who have a restraint imposed upon them, he was mild and irregular whenfreed from the immediate influence of that thralldom, and had of late indulged in a series of frolicsome and mischievous pranks, one of which gave rise to the scene we have just detailed, and one. too of which Harry was entirely innocent. But these erratic practices were more the momentary caprice of a sanguine and happy temperament than the exercise of vitiated and corrupt impulses; and had he been left unchecked in his mad career, he would soon have become tired and satiated • with it, and would in all probability have returned with increased avidity to a more exemplary course of life. Though Harry delivered his valedictory speech with an appearance of calmness, it was an assumption of feeling that he was far from experiencing. Even then the volcano was raging within, and in a very few moments after he had quitted the presence of his father it burst forth with* additional fury, in consequence of being for a time restrained. But that overwhelming storm- of passion, though heart-rending and violent while it continued, was of short duration; like the whirlwind, it rose loud, violent and prostrating, but, like the whirlwind, it lasted but a few brief instants and then subsided in calm. Sad, silent and sorrowful, he pursued his way, nor turned he once to gaze upon his paternal walls until he had arrived at the opposite bank of the Schuylkill; then, indeed, he paused and looked back, long and wistfully, and when he again turned to resume his uncertain course he sighed; for, though his home had been no home to him, he left it with some such feelings, though with far different inclinations, than our first forefather experienced when ejected frbm the bowers of Eden.

CHAPTER n. Although the strange youth sallied forth alone, he went not unaided; he was determined, persevering and ambitious; and these are qualities that befriend us to the last, and that often prove far more successful than personal influence, for the latter but points out the road to fame, while the former, like, a faithful guide, accompanies you on to the very goal. He was proud, too, not of anything he possessed in himself over the rest of mankind, but proud of their opinions—proud, that his impulses were all honorable — proud that he never had been guilty of anything for which he should feel selfabased. And now he beheld _ himself thrown entirely upon his own resources, and this in itself inspired him with feelings he had been a stranger to before. As Harry Sutherland pursued his course, building fancies of hope for the future, a sudden- brightness illuminated the sky in a distant quarter of the city, and then followed the startling cry of “Fire!” faint and far off at first, but gradually swelling and disseminating until the alarm had penetrated the most distant streets and avenues of the town. The atmosphere, from a deep lurid, became brightly red, and as the conflagration increased, huge misshapen masses of black smoke [filed itself upward, studded with sparks that shone like so many guttering stars through a storm cloud. to save themselves from destruction. The

devouring element had raged for soma time undiscovered, and when it at last! burst from the lower windows of the house it had taken so great a hold within that all efforts to preserve the movables were regarded as ineffective. While the multitude were yet preparing to extinguish the conflagration their attention was suddenly and powerfully arrested by a shriek, so wild, so powerful, and so expressive of excruciating agony, that all voices were hushed, and all operations suspended as if by magic. That fearful cry sent the life-blood thrilling through the veins of all who, beard it: “Save, oh, save my child! save her for the love of heaven! quick, or she will perish!” An awful pause succeeded this passionate invocation. To ascend to the room which the distracted mother pointed out as the sleeping apartment of her child by the stairways was an utter impossibility, as they were completely enveloped in flame. None had the hardihood to attempt it; but when ladders were brought and placed against the walls, more than twenty intrepid firemen sprang forward to the rescue of the unfortunate little girl; but when they had gained the windows, they found it impossible to enter, as the smoke was gushing in clonds so th'ck, so black, and so suffocating, that they deemed it as impossible to exist one moment within the apartment, as it was to recognize objects through the opaque atmosphere. A youth of slender proportions was seen ascending the ladder, with an air of determination that seemed to inspire the crowd with new hope. He leaped into the apartment, remaining there but a very short time, and yet It seemed to those below a long, long while —the pain, the suspense, the hopes, the fears of an age were crowded in that brief moment. At last he reappeared—but alone. An exclamation of disappointment ran through the crowd; but before it had died away, another youth of nearly the same age and size sprang upon a second ladder, and commenced ascending to the window. The stranger was Harry Sutherland; he had just arrived at the scene of action, and was learning the cause of the deep excitement, when a beautiful female, whose dress was disordered, and whose hair hung disheveled down her back, seized him suddenly by the arm. “Will you rescue my child?” asked the mother; and observing that Harry hesitated, she bounded wildly forward, and seized the rounds with the intention of mounting herself; but the youth caught her as suddenly and, pushing her aside, he rushed up and leaped into the glowing apartment. There succeeded a dead silence,* and then a tremendous crash announced that some part of the interior had given way; but the fears of the multitude were in a moment quieted, on perceiving that the floor of the upper apartments was still entire. Another moment elapsed, and then arose one of the longest, loudest and most exulting shouts that ever rang upon the ears of created man; again that wild burst of delight reverberated on the night air, and again, and again, until the very city trembled beneath the universal jubilation. The mother, frantic with delight, took her child from the arms of her deliverer, and after gazing for a moment in its beautiful eyes, she clasped the darling Mo her bosom and covered its sweet countenance with kisses. That was the happiest moment of Harry Sutherland’s life. He felt then, as he gazed upon the cherub he had snatched from destruction, and the mother he had saved from misery, that it was not in the province of man to enjoy raptures of bliss more divine than those that at that moment thrilled in his veins; but few.of the millions who have passed from the cradle to the grave ever experienced that exquisite sensation of delight—he was himself a stranger to it forever after.

It was not until the transports of the mother had subsided into a calmer current that she once thought of him who had rescued her child; then, indeed, the thought that he had been so long neglected rushed painfully upon her mind, and, depositing her precious burden in the arms of her household, she took him by the hand, but, not finding words to express her gratitude, she fell upon his neck and burst into a flood of tears. “Brave, noble, generous youth!” sobbed she, “it will never be in my power to reward you, but my blessing, a mother’s blessing, shall attend you wherever you go, and a mother’s prayer shall nightly be offered up for you to Him who only can recompense rhe disinterested act you have just performed.” Harry Sutherland was distressed; and yet he was happy. Tears were in his eyes, but joy was at his heart; and, glad at length to escape from observation, he sought his way out of the crowd, and turned toward another and a more silent quarter of the city. But he was followed by a second person; the strange youth who had also endeavored to save the child, pursued him through every street and lane he traversed for nearly a quarter of an hour. At length the latter hestened his pace, and, touching Harry upon the shoulder, the two were confronted face to face.

The stranger, though he had sought an interview, remained silent, as if he had expected the other to address him, and Harry, surprised at length that he spoke not, demanded what he required of him. “Nothing,”, replied the strange youth. “Then why have you stopped me?” asked our hero, somewhat angrily. - “To tell you,” replied the other, “that you have robbed me.” “Robbed you! Of what, pray?” “Of the gratification of rescuing that child.” “Are you mad?” “No, sir.” “Then what is your meaning? I don’t understand you. Your language to me is all an enigma.” ' . “You have received approbation tonight which should have been bestowed upon me. I was on the very eve of distinguishing myself, and you came and blasted my hopes.” • • \ “Fool!” exclaimed Harry, nettled at the other’s inconsistency, “you had abandoned the project in despair before I attempt-ed-it” “I would have tried it again; I would have ultimately succeeded,” said the stranger. “Perhaps so,” replied Harry; “but since the child has been saved, what matters it to you?” “What matters it to me!” said the other, repeating his companion’s words in undisguised astonishment. “Yes.” The stranger spoke not another word, but turning upon his heel, h» walked off, leaving Harry Sutherland to resume his way and muse in mute astonishment QV«r that encounter. (To be continued.)

FARMS AND FARMERS

The Present Day Pig. The pig of to-day is infinitely superior to that which was generally found In this country, say. a quarter of a century since. Of this there appears to be little doubt, and. further, the breeders of pure bred pigs would appear to be well within their right when claiming that this marked improvement was mainly owing to the pigs which had been distributed from their herds, principally for crossing In the more ordinary farm pigs. But do the pure bred pigs of to-day possess anything approaching as many of those commercial points as they should possess or are they so much in advance of the common country pigs as they were two or three decades since? We fear not. And yet the difficulty of improving the pig stock of the country is now far greater than it was in years gone by, owing to the difference in form and quality between the two classes of pig having become less pronounced. Another difficulty presents itself to the breeders of pure bred pigs of today—the public taste, oY fashion, demands a pig of the form and substance which is somewhat contrary to the form of the original pig, which carried the greater part of its weight in the fore quarters, whereas now the pig of to-day must furnish the greater portion of its meat from the ribs and hind quarters. Thus the pig of to-day must be a manufactured article, since the wild hog, from which all our domesticated pigs are descended, was so formed for defense and for the search for roots, bulbs, etc., that the major portion of its weight was in the fore quarters. We not only have to attempt to produce pigs totally dissimilar in form and character to the original foundation stock, but we have to be most particular in mating animals from as similar a source as possible, or we inevitably produce a pig with many of the undesirable points of the

THE PIG OF TO-DAY.

parents, and with few of those qualities which we are anxious to see exemplified in the pig of to-day. Great Yield of Wheat. In Belgium they sow a small piece of a few square rods with wheat, sowing seed broadcast and rather thickly, usrually in September. They then prepare a field by plowing deeply in narrow furrows, putting on edge several times, and then narrowing with fine harrow to kill any weeds that may come. It is, however, left In the rough furrow after the last plowing, which gives a chance for the frost to pulverize the soil, and kill insect eggs or pupa. In the spring this field is heavily manured, plowed, harrowed, and finally raked with an Iron-toothed rake. A marker then marks rows ten inches apart, and furrows two or three inches deep are made along the mark. Another takes up the plants from the bed where the wheat was sown in the fall, separating them to single plants and rejecting any poor ones. These plants are put in the furrows about four inches apart, the roots well covered with soil, and then patted down solid with the back of the shovel. At times the soil is stirred with a hoe and all weeds killed. Where four or five work together, each doing his or her own part of the work, for women and children assist at it, the transplanting is done very rapidly. The plants being strong stool out to 30 or 40 stems each, the ground is well covered, and It Is said 100 bushels per acre Is a common yield, and from that to 150 bushels. A three-acre field is a large one there, but it yields as much as many 20-acre fields in this country. Labor is more abundant than land, but a little seed on a little land produces a large crop.— American Cultivator. File* and Mosquitoes. At a meeting of entomologists at Columbus, Ohio, last summer, a paper was read in which an expert connected with the Russian Government reported that the gadflies, sometimes known as horseflies or deerflies In different sections, would be destroyed by covering the surface of the pools of water from which they drink with a thin film of kerosene oil. Sometimes covering <me such pool will destroy them over a large section of country. Some time ago Prof. L. O. Howard, of the Agricultural Department, reported that the use of a small quantity of kerosene in this way on ponds and otheg pools of stagnant water would destrty the larva of the mosquitoes that* bred there, and if it Mill also destroy gadflies it would be well worth making use of it in sections where these insects are a continual torment to man and. beast, and more especially to the poor beasts that must stay all day in the pastures near these ponds and swamps. Killlns Bparrow*. A writer tells of the nuisance English sparrows were about his house and barn, until he got a gun, and in about 900 shots he killed twenty-five of them,

and scared away a million, more or less. We think bis markmanship was pot as good as that of the Boers. We saw one of our neighbors kill thirty-three of them at one shot, and it was not a large flock of sparrows either, at least after the shooting. Feed them oats a few times in some convenient spot and they will soon gather there, so that- with a good charge of fine shot, a man ought easily to kill half the flock every time be fires. Those that are scared away will live to come another day. ' After he has had a few such shots each fall, the sparrows will avoid that place and its vicinity, and if every one would do so, we might see and hear some of our native song birds and Insect destroyers around the buildings again. By the way, those sparrows make a nice little pot pie, as we know, for we helped eat those thirty-three, but the picking and dressing them was worth more than the game.—Exchange. A Great Potato Crop. The average yield of potatoes in the United States is said to be 85 bushels per acre. The Canada yield is reported as averaging 20 to 25 bushels higher than that, while in England a good crop may be 240 bushels, "which is no more than some farmers here obtain who manure liberally and try to grow good crops. But on the estate of Lord Rosebery at Dalmeny, Scotland, they are reported to obtain an average of 720 bushels to the acre. How does he do it? He puts 30 gross tons, 2,240 pounds to the ton, to the acre, of manure, mostly from the city of Edinburgh, plowed in upon a clean* stubble In the fall; then In the spring be grubs in 448 pounds of “ground” lime, and at planting time he puts in the drill per acre 448 pounds of superphosphate, and 112 pounds each of muriate of potash, sulphate of potash, fermented bone meal and sulphate of ammonia. Here, then, is 896 pounds of good fertilizer material In the drill, beside the lime, and the 30 tons, which we should call here 33 tons, 1,200 pounds of ma-, nure. Profit in Squab*. Make each pair of .birds take a certain box. For Instance, if the birds seem to prefer a high box, give it to them; if a low one, choose one nearer the floor. One can always judge by their actions. All the empty boxes must be kept closed. It is surprising how quickly they will learn their own boxes, and once settled the male bird defies all intrusion. By so doing you learn all your birds by sight, and if there are odd or strayed ones In the flock they may be removed. At night is the best time to look them over. Feed little besides corn and wheat,; with a box of oyster shells and grit To avoid disease clean the boxes from 1 which the squabs have been taken to kill and scrape the floor once a week or every two weeks. Keep air-slacked lime and carbolic acid scattered about profusely and the disease wlll soon depart. This must be done frequently the year round, as perseverance and constant attention are the only way to success—Farmers’ Voice. * Here'* a Water Heater. There is no question about the advisability of taking the chill off the water that is given to cattle in the winter. The problem Is to secure a practical, cheap way of warming the water. The Illustration shows how this may be done. The trough is raised as shown, and a circular opening cut in the bottom. A thick body of white lead is spread about this opening and a sheet of galvanized Iron is then tacked flrm-

A PRACTICAL WATER HEATER.

ly down upon the lead as shown. Under this is made a box and in it is placed a small oil stove. Have two small boles In the door and in the rear wall ot the box near the top. With the cover down, a whole troughful of icy-cold water can soon be brought to a temperature where, it will be safe for stock to drink it, and that, too, at almost no trouble at all, and at hardly more than a cent’s expense.—American Agriculturist for Fattenins Cattle. At the Ontario Agricultural College they fed three lot* of two steers each as follows: Lot 1 had 57 pounds of ensilage each, lot 2, 31 pounds of silage and 9 pounds of bay, lot 3,43 pounds of roots and 11 pound* of hay. Each had about 12 pounds a day of grain, consisting of ground peas, barley and oats. Lot 1 weighed 2,789 pounds at thebeginning, and in 146 days gained 555 pounds or 1.9 pounds each per day. Lot 2 weighed 2,735 pounds at first and gained In same time 448 pounds, or 1.53 pounds each per day. Lot 3 weighed 2,672 pounds, and in the time gained 537 pounds, or 1.84 pounds a day. The gain by feeding only ensilage and grain was not much larger than that on roots and hay with grain, but all estimates indicate that the silage is much more easily and cheaply produced, the 57 pounds requiring less tend and less labor than the 43 pounds of roots, to say nothing of of the bay.

RECORD OF THE WEEK

INDIANA INCIDENTS TERSBLIM TOLD. Mellinger, After Conversion, an Old Crime - Reveals Death After Takinjr Poison—Havoc at Eovanaport Church Is Rained. < J. F. Mellinger, a painter, 24 years sent an open letter to the Fort newspapers confessing that when 6 yearegM old he set fire to a barn in play, whl«g|| cremated his 3-year-old sister. Sumersky, an older lad, was chaimMH| with the crime and sent to the refdMH school for six years. Mellinger recentiH|gH| joined the church and since then his mH science has troubled him. SumerakywH whereabouts are not known. jpg Two of a Suicide Club Dead. | H Andrew 8. Thompson died at FrantfflH fort from a dose of morphine taken wftlK| suicidal intent. Thompson, after tajMfc|||| the drug, told his friends that Fred ner, who killed himself a few day* fore. Thompson and three other younflH men had formed a suicide club and wt|flH| in a month all would be dead. ThosfißM son was 26 years old and unmarried. | |||| Serious Fire at Logansport. S A fire occurred in Logansport whictHg gutted the shoe store of Walker Haugh, Frazee’s dry goods store, BarteMl hart & Son's stove store and Georg*.SH Lucy’s tailor store. The store* WmMS mostly damaged by water. All the firnaßM were will insured. Interior of Church Ruined. mßb Unknown persons broke into MouaflH Hope Methodist Church, south of ly, smashed the windows and door*. deaßj stroyed the pulpit, chandeliers and funsHH ture, tore the church Bible and all testaments to bits and then smeared ,th>ll|| walls and floor with mud. There clew to the wreckers. :I|E| Within Our Border*. »» Glanders in Clay County. Elkhart has a central labor union. B Indiana celery crop blighted by fro*L#«H Diphtheria is on the increase in rion. IB Seymour will have free mail deliveflHß Jan. 1. Elwood is troubled with an epidemic. *||m thieving. Female burglars are at work in ansville. Fort Wayne garbage crematory Wo|H||g up in smoke. 'tlh Evansville is having another epidemjlM of burglary. - ' Anderson Elks have begun their SIO,OOO home. |||| Winter apples are said to be rotttiMgl unusually early. |||| Gambling houses in Anderson baMIHB been ordered closed. A million dollar plug tobacco factoflK|| will be built in Madison. |||| Hamilton, Ohio, capitalists will put a' fifty SI,OOO houses in Anderson. Two district schools in Ripley Could . are closed on account of diphtheria. J w Miss Grace Steere, Carthage, WM found dead iu bed. Cause unknown. .jj || An incendiary is firing barns along .mJH Air Line track, in southern Indiana. , gg Bunker Hill coal mines, SullivMM ||J be worked and lighted by Anderson will swell its population dfe.S by annexing I’ark Place and North K demon. :JS| Eli Lane, 45, Anderson, died from.ta|| juries received in a strawboard factijßM|| recently. Invention that does six boys’ work MM IB been introduced in the Muncie flint botaM factory. •■SgM| Contract has been let for an railroad between Logansport and KtjK| dallville. South Bend police arrested three litdßgl girls the other day for shiplifting. AlbS| under 12. Unless farmers in Wayne County up improved mail boxes, they will lo*«|| free delivery. id B. & O. S. W. train killed W . Smith, Lawrenceville, 111., on the BriggjH| creek trestle. Jill Jamestown wants electric lights, jH school house, two churches and a ical fire engine. |g ’Squire Orr, who disappeared fraaß| Frankton some time ago, has been toesM|| ed in Lima, Ohio. Mrs. Fred Weber, Fort Wayne, ■ her baby a dose of morphine for otmH|| medicine. Fatal. Frank Weikel, Evansville, ran into street and grabbed a strange dog. arm nearly torn off. ; |||| There is now a rivalry between, dig belt cities, to see which can strike at the slightest depth. A deed was recorded at Goshen/ veying a lot in Nappanee, that was dß||| knowledged in Jerusalem. During a fight in the Kokomo city ceiHß etery James Horn was fatally shot William Clubs. Horn had accused -j of alienating his wife's affections. *7s Alonzo Humphrey, 45, a farmer of BuO||j ney. was mysteriously murdered. EM : | body was found in the woods near CItfMSS creek. He had been shot in the neck. J O. E. Fryatt. chief clerk in Haute for the Chicago and Eastern IM||| nois and the Evansville and Terre Hantl Railroad companies, was accidentalWll killed while hunting. He was 32 old and unmarried. William E. Heal, the Grant treasurer, who disappeared from Oct. 5, 1897, has returned home, an absence of over two years. he left Marion it was disclosed was short nearly SIB,OOO, of which 000 was Grant County funds. He WaM stand trial. Cambridge City is having trouble wfl “ki<ls" between 15 and 17. ' Mr. and Mrs. Jeremiah Jacobs, County, have been married sixty-ol yp*”- ■ ImII E. E. Sours, Huntington Goaat y 160. ’