St. Joseph County Independent, Volume 12, Number 22, Walkerton, St. Joseph County, 27 November 1886 — Page 1

VOLUME XII.

THE MILLER'S VISITOR; —on, — The Mystery of Scaw- • ton Mill. (CONTINUED. J A few days later, as Minna Kingston was making bread in the kitchen, there came a diet at the garden gate. But Minna was too busy to heed it, and too much engrossed by sad thoughts. All had gone wrong the last few days. Trusty was dead and the hay not got in. Her father had refused the loan of his neighbor's horse, and had been very angry with his daughter for asking it. The weather had broken up, heavy thunderstorms succeeded, and the hay was now lying rotting in the held. Minn ?s sorrowful ruminations were interrupted by a tap on the window pane, and looking up she beheld to her surprise, the young Canadian standing at the open casement, watching her with a smile. “We don’t do it in that way at home.” said he. “I’d like you to taste my mother's doughnuts and buckwheat cakes; they beat your bread into fits. “Don’t be alarmed,” said he, walking in. “Your father is asleep in the arbor yonder. I have been watching my time. I want a few words with you, Miss Kingston, if you won’t think it a liberty I’m taking.” “Oh, no; please sit down,” said Minna. “I hoped I might see you again, to tell you—to ask you not to be offended at poor father's behavior the other night. He—he can’t help it,” she stammered, “and I’m sure he's grateful to you; but—but—oh, yon don’t know what he’s suffered!” and Minna’s voice shook sadly as she looked up at the visitor. “I know more than you think, I guess,” he responded, looking closely into Minna’s pretty blue eyes. “Your Dale folks don't want bribing to talk about their neighbors’ concerns. But I want to come to the business that brings me here to-day, and that is to put a few questions to you. Miss Rincston, if you’ll kindly answer them.” Minna had no hesitation about complying. The honest voice of the speaker, to say nothing of his comely face, inspired her with confidence. They stood talking together for some time, and the various emotions written on Minna's open countenance during their conversation made her look unusually animated and interesting. “I must be off now,” said the Canadian, as the kitchen clock struck three. “I have to be back in Liverpool to-morrow, and us my business will be finished in a couple of days, I shall probably be on my wny home before the week’s out. If I have the good luck to serve you, Miss Kingston, I shall be well paid for the loss of the ramble I had promised among the Cumberland lakes. In any case you shall hear from me one of these days about this matter, which ought not to rest here. Good-by—-never mind the flour on your fingers," and Minna, blushing prettify, gave him her hand, which he pressed quite cordially. He had not been gone a minute before he reappeared at the window. “By the way, you don’t know my name— John Lockwood, dealer in hides, Montreal. Don’t forget, and God bless you.” The next minute he had cleared the garden hedge at a bound, and was hastening down the Dale. CHAPTER IV. SNOWED UP. Minna Kingston was not likely to forget her cheery friend, whose visit had excited such hopes in her mind; but when month after month went by and nothing came of John Lockwood's promised assistance, she began to feel discouraged and disappointed in him. He had written her one brief letter, expressing a fear that he had roused hopes which might never be realized —that was all. Often did poor Minna cast a sorrowful eye over the lines, and blame herself for having put any trust in the writer’s words. “But I think he would be sorry if he could see us now,” reflected Minna, with pathetic naivette, as she sit watching the snow-flakes fall this howling winter’s afternoon; and in counting upon his sympathy she was not crediting Mr. Lockwood with any excessive sensibility, for things were certainly just now at a desperate pass with the family at Scawton Mill. Christopher Kingston was ill, and Minn i was sitting by her father’s bedside, with a heavy heart. He looked old and grizzled as he gazed at his daughter, who held a letter in her hand whK h she has just been reading to him. Christopher’s brow had darkened as he listened; be could not yet realize the contents of that heartless epistle. Outside the house a heavy snow-storm raged. It was midwinter, and the mill-wheal still locked in ice, and the sheep were dying in the drifts on the Fells, and there had been neither ingress nor egress from the Dale for now five days past. “I think, father,” began Minna, hesitatingly, as she looked wofully at the letter — “I think Esther would have come if the scow had’nt ” “It didn't snow when you wrote to her,” he interrupted, angrily. “Say no more, but read it again, as I bid you.” Minna unfolded the letter again (it was written on g nteel note-piper, in a beautiful hand*, and read as follows: “My Dear Minna— l was very sorry to hear such sad news fron you, and hope this will find my father improving. My aunt begs me to say that she can not think of allowing me to come over to the Dale until warmer weather sets in, and Mr. Parsons also thinks it would be very imprudent. lam afraid you have a deal on your hands, but as my father refuses the help and even the advice of his friends, I don't see what can be done. If anything should happen—l mean if father should sink-—you must let me know at once; of course I should put off being married until the spring hi that case, though what Mr. Parsons would say, I don’t know. He has taken a house, and we are busy furnishing it. Believe me, dear Minna, your affectionate sister. “Esther Kingston.” “That will do/’ said the miller slowly: and he turned away his face and spoke no more. It was a strange illness that had come upon R ngston —a complete breaking down of the moral as well as the physical forces i of the man. “It’s o’ no use strivin’, my lass,” said he, , when he took to his bed a week before; “It's 'dear to me that when the world takes I agen a man, he can't prosper nohow, let ' him try as he will. If it wasn't for thee, I d never wish to rise off this bed never more."

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It was true; he had utterly lost heart. Ris neighbors regarded his latest misfortttn a the failure of his potato crop, and the distenqier among his cattle) as plain and visible proofs of divine displeasure. ; M hen Aunt Jennings beard of Christopher’s illne s, she was so ccniT^S^d for his guilty soul that she sent over bercoffliin, the minister, to talk to Him and awallt’n his slumbering eonscivnee. But Christophers brow turn*’ 1 dark as night at tpie Bight Cf hjju; he peremptorily o r N

COUNTy ~ §l. JKfe In&epwitenL

i dered him to quit the chamber and the । house when he learned by whom he had i been sent. | Well might poor Minna’s spirits flag as they had done of late. Even the Doctor, whom she secretly consulted about her father's illness, had hinted that it was the ■ mind more than the body which needed ; medicine in his case. It seemed to her I that all the world, except herself, still sus- ! pected her father of that dreadful crime. | Except herself? Alas! what most dis- ; tressed the poor girl was that there had been moments of late when she found doubts of her father's innocence rising in her own mind. “How was it that Walter Soames had never been heard of again? How was it that the steps taken to trace him by the police of London and of Liverpool had entirely failed? Could it be posI sible that the world was right, and that her father had been tempted ” But arrived thus far in her speculations, Minna would always stop, horrified at her own wickedness. If innocent, her father was the most wronged of men, and her warmest love and devotion could make but poor amends for the injustice of his lot. Never, perhaps, had Minna’s spirits sunk so low as during the last five days, while she had been shut up in the house with her father and old Simon. All communications with the lower part of the Dale had been cut off since Saturday, when Simon, returning from the village shop nt the bridge, had nearly lost his life in a snowdrift. The severe weather, the seclusion, and the depressing influences of the cold, had told upon them ail. Her father had lain in bed in a half torpid state, looking out on the frozen landscape with a face as dull and hopeless as the wintry sky. Old Simon croaked over his rheumatics by the fireside, and said “He thought them that was happed down warm in the churchyard had the best of it this winter.” When Minna was getting his supper ready at ni^ht the old man seemed more depressed than usual. “It's like the winter when your grandfather. the old master, shot the wild geese at the Dale Head,” said he, “and we was snowed-up a fortnight; only then,” added he, with a sigh, “we had a house full o’ good victuals, and we t ipped three casks o’ strong ale afore the thaw set in, J recollecks.” When he had smoked his pipe he laid it down on the mantel-shelf, and said solemnly: “There, missie, it’s the List o’ the baccy, and we shall come to the last mouthful o' victuals soon. I think the Lord has clean forgotten us up here.” And when the old man had hcfbbled off to bed, Minna sat down before the kitchen fire and cried from sheer misery. Alas! if the food should not hold out as long as the frost! If her father should grow worse and die before any aid could be summoned! He had seemed more lowspirited that day than ever, and at times she tnought his mind wandering. She resolved not to leave him to-night, and wrapping herself up in a shawl, she returned to her father’s room, to spend the time in the chair by his bedside. “Ah, my poor lass!” said he, looking at her sadly, “I’ve been thinking of what will become of thee when I’m gone. You’ll never let them change your heart against me, as they’ve changed your sister’s—-eh?” “Oh. father, how can you talk so ” But Minna's tears choked her. “Nay, lassie, don’t take oa. 1 knew thou’rt true to me, if none else be. But ” here he paused—“but it’s hard to leave a bad name behind one. I’d hoped to stand clear before them, but there's no justice on this earth—no, nor yonder above, it seems!” The last words were spoken in a voice that made Minna shudder. “Try and sleep a bit, father dear,” she murmured. He closed his eyes, and lay back on the pillow with a sigh; but it was not long ere he slept, and when lie di d'sleep it was so uneasily, that Minna resolved to keep awake all night, if possible. For some two hours she sat there listening to the ticking of her father’s big silver watch; but ere long Minna's youth and healthy temperament asserted themselves, and she too slept. She awoke up suddenly, hearing her father call to her: “Minna, who’s grinding in the mill tonight?” “Giinding, father? You're dreaming,” said she. “It’s night, and the weir’s frozen.” “I heard the mill door click,” said he, “and the hopper bell ring. Hark!” But there was no sound in the silence that rested on the snowy earth. Minna drew’ back the window curtain to reassure her father, and showed him the snowcovered trees and the old mill standing out black and grim against the white landscape. “All’s safe, father," said she, “it was only fancy;" and she took her seat by the bedside, and held her father’s hand in hers till he slept again. But there was no more sleep for Minna. She had been too much startled by her father’s strange words, aud she sat listening for something in a state of nervous expectation. Now Minna Kingston was neither timid nor superstitious by nature; but her father’s condition, the silence of the night, the solitary household where she alone was awake —all combined to fill her with disquiet. So much was she under the influence of nervous excitement that ere long she began to think that she could really hear some one in the mill. Whether it was a door that creaked, ora foot-fall on the hollow planks, she could not tell, but she sat listening for a repetition of the sound with a painful, concentrated attention. At iast, unable to sit still auy longer, she rose and went to the window. Brave girl as she was, Minna Kingston with difficulty restrained a cry of terror, when she beheld a light streamnig from one of the lower windows of the mill. People had long said the place was But Minna’s heart almost stopped beating at the thought. She was literally too frightened to move for a few moments; but then came the reflection that there might be thieves in the mill, or that it might have taken fire. In any case she must know the worst. Bracing her courage, she took the rusty keys from the fire-place, and drawing her shawl over her head, she quitted the room silently, so as not to awaken her father. She had resolved to cross the wooden gallery that led to the upper chamber of the mill, and there look down through the trapdoor in the floor into the grinding-room, whence the mysterious light issued. She had reached the mill door, when her courage failed her. The thick snow had deadened the soun I of her footsteps on the bridge; but how was she to unlock the door without being heard? She stood with the key in the lock, her heart beating wildly, when the door noiselessly gave way. Simon had forgotten to fasten it, or teased to do so since the granary was empty. It was all in darkness save where a light streamed through the square aperture in the floor. With stealthy steps she approached, and looking through the trapdoor, stood paralyzed with terror. There were two figures below—two men muffled up to the eyes, talking together in a low tone. One of them grasped a thick cudgel or staff; the other held aloft over his head a flaring candle, which he hid taken from the lantern on the wall. Minna heard the latter say; “If we haven't awoke them in the house, we'd better keep quiet for awhile.” To ■which the other replied: “Yes, we should stand a chance for a

WALKERTON, ST. JOSEPH COUNTY, INDIANA, SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 27, 1886.

bullet in the head, I dare say, if we tried the house. The miller wouldn’t stand on ceremony at this time of night. Hark! what’s that?” It was Minna, who, hi her terror, had let { the keys slip from her fingers. “Kats, I suppose—old place full of them —hark, how they scamper,” and a providential rush of mice or rats at that moment saved Minni from fainting on the spot. “I know every corner of the old place,” said the first speaker, still holding his light aloft. “It looks as grim as a vault, and if ever a ghost could choose his own ” “If you go waving the light about in that fashion, you’ll draw their attention in the house and frighten them to death,” interrupted his companion. “I wonder what time it is; nowhere near morning, I’m afraid. If I haven't lost my pipe in those confounded drifts. I shall have a smoke, and—Good heavens, Soames, look there!” ’The speaker ha 1 just caught sight of the terrified face looking down through the trap-door. With a haste that almost knocked his companion backward, he sprang up the ladder that led to the next floor. “Minna, don’t bo frightened!” he cried, it’s I—it's John Lock wood! All's right; and you musn’t ” For Minna, who had never shown signs of hysterics in her life, gave a piercing cry, ami was on the point of fainting when he caught her in his arms. But she had taken in the meaning of the scene; and before the young man had time to get out his brandy flask, she had revived and had extricated herself from his arms. “Oh, Mr. Lock wood, is it true?” she cried, “have you really brought him back?” Sho pointed to his companion, a dark bearded man, who stood looking on with an air of distress. “Yes, that’s Walter Soames. I said I would find him, and I have. But I didn’t mean to frighten you in this way, all the same.” “Oh, nover mind that, Mr. Lockwood, exclaimed Minna. “1-—I am so thankful! It will save my father’s life, and—and make me the happiest “ But she could not finish; she sat down on the heap of sacks near aud cried from sheer joy and surprise. Yes, it was the man so long supposed to have been murdered by her father who stood there hale and well. Thanks to John Lockwood (who had traced ont and found him in the far-off woods of Canada). M alter Soames had learned the misery of which he had been the unintentional cause, and had immediately hastened to England to put matters to right. The travelers had been detained by the snow storm for three days, tint at last had pushed up the Dale at the peril of their lives, and reached the mill in the dead of night. M alter Soames, it appeared, had left England two days after his ill-fated visit to the mill, and taken ship to America under a changed name. There he hud gone through the usual hard experiences of young men who prefer a vagabond life to a decorous professional one. He had at one time traveled among the farm-houses in Canada, picking up a living by painting likenesses; and it was on one of these occasions that he made the acquaintance of the Lockwoods, who had shown him such kindness that on parting he presented them with that sketch of Scawton Mid, which had been th 1 lucky means of his identification. But Walter Soames, having ultimately taken to farming, and married a rich Canadian farmer’s daughter, was now in a position to give substantial assistance to the person on whom he had unconsciously inflicted such grave injury. “The only thing, Mr. Kingston, that can restore my peace of mind," said he, "will be your deciding to leave this uuluoky place, and return with mu to Canada, where I undertake to put you into a farm, and find you u good home.” The miller shook his head—said he was “too old and broken now." But he already began to look another man, as he beheld the cloud that had long darkened his life passing away. The proposal was urged with such force aud good feeling that ultimately he consented, being strongly advised thereto by the young Canadian, who, though a very unselfish fellow, had here a distinctly personal object in view. That object so directly concerned the miller's daughter, that to her ear he confided it in strictest privacy. “I have loved you, Minna," said he, “ever since I first saw you making bread in your father's kitchen, and if you’ll only come to my country and make bread for me. I'll promise you a good home, and the ,lov of a man who can keep his promise, as you know. Do you say ‘ Yes?' ‘ Minna did say “Yes,” aud so new aud happy a life dated from the time when she and her father reached their Canadian home, that-it was only when they looked at a certain treasured picture on their parlor wall (with the signature YV. S. in the corner), that they could realize that they had ever known such gloomy and disastrous days as those they had spent at the old mill in Seawton Dale. [THE END.] Winter Costumes. Olive wood is the favorite for fan-sticks. That portion of the fan which is intended to cool the cheek of beauty is usually composed of ostrich feathers. "When olive wood forms <he sticks, the feathers are gray, mother-of-pearl sticks have white feathers attached to them, aud ivory handles wave feathers of the most delicate cream tint. Jaunty English walking hats are now worn by young ladies, with dark-colored tailor-made dresses. These hats have the left side of the brim turned up to the top of the crown; in front, a large knot of ribbons with a white aigrette is placed, and this is the sole garnishment. The hat is of plain black felt. A dress for afternoon visits, church-go-ing. and home wear during the evening, is of dark golden-brown silk, the basque being of plush. Ihe latter is very short, cut very nearly around the waist, and the dress is without drapery. The skirt, of silk a shade lighter than the waist, is puffed in large folds, from a point just below the waist to nearly the bottom of the skirt, having shirred pieces at the top and bottom. It will be noticed that this style was popular three seasons ago. It seems that it wdl be renewed for this year. Another very charming costume, intended for the promenade, and in very nearly the same shade, has the basque, as well as the s irt, of silk. The drapery is bouffant behind, and quite long in front, but with a wide loop at each side to display panels of dark green brocade. A mantle of the same color, and reaching behind only to the waist, is worn with this suit, and is trimmed with feather trimming of the same dark green shade as the skirt panels. With this suit a round, hill felt hat, dark brown in color, aud trimmed with dark green ribbons, is worn; gloves of dark brown undressed kid, and parasol of dark brown satin'. Vests and evening bodices of undressed kid and tine leather are quite popular. They are ver}’ neat for balls or evening receptions, and are cut sleeveless and decollete; the skirt worn is made eu traine, and is usually of satiu, the same shade as the I odice. ' Chamois skin is also utilized for these bodices. Bridesmaids non carry floral muffs, tied • ith bows to match the dress.

A LONG FAREWELL. The Mortal Remains of Chester Alan Arthur Consigned to Earth. A Large Gathering of Eminent Men Present at the Ceremonies. [New Y’ork telegram.) The last night of the loving watch beside the bier of Gen. Chester Alan Arthur, ex-President of the United States, his* passed. President Cleveland and Postmaster General Vilas arrived in a carriage direct from the train at 8:20 a. m., and entered the house of mourning. Many people uncovered their heads when the President stepped out of his carriage. Shortly after, Gov. Hill aud Judge William Muller arrived and entered the house. They were followed by the Senate committee. By this time there was a mighty throng of people on the avenue, and the windows of every house were filled with sad faces. There were no services at the house. At 8:30 the black casket, covered with palmetto leaves, sprays of violets, and a wreath of white roses, was lifted by the undertaker’s assistants and borne irom the room. The silt nt form of Chester A. Arthur passed through the door of his earthly tenement for the last time, and was reverently placed in the funeral-draped hearse. As the casket came in view of the people in the street every head was bowed iwereutlv, aud many eyes filled with tears in the throng thus hushed in the presence of death. There was no display of pomp or ceremony, no military music or procession, but the mighty throng of sorrowing people bore witness to their love and respect for the deceased statesman. Next came out of the residence Chester Alan Arthur, Jr., the son of the ex-Presi-deut. Leaning on his arm, clad in garments of mourning, was his sister, Miss Nellie Arthur. They passed quietly to th’ir carriage, accompanied by Mr. and Mrs. McElroy. Then came Mrs. Caws, Mrs. Hayneworth, and Miss Arthur, the sister of the ex-President; Postmaster Masten and his wife, of Cohoes, N. Y., with their sou and daughter; President Cleveland. Post-master-General \ lias, (■>•11. Martin L. McMahon. John H. Draper. S< cretaries Havard, Wh.tney, and Lamar; the p.dlbearers, consisting of < x-Po-tmaster General Gresham, ex-Secretaries Lincoln and Chandler, ex-Assistant Postmaster General Hatton, ex-Attorney General Brewster, Lieutenant General Sheridan. Dr. Cornelius 11. Aguew, Cornelius N. Bliss, Robert G. Dun, Gm. George 11. Sharpe, Charles L. Tiffany, and Cornelius \anderbilt; Chief Justice Waite and Jr 'ices Harlan and Hlati hford, Senators E Uunnds. Sherman, Logan. Evarts, Hawley, Morrill. Vest, aud (iormcn, Gen. Stone, and Gov. Hill. The mourners filled t«t nty-fivo i arriages, but over one hundred carriages filled with friends, who had been unable to pain admission to the house, followed the procession to the church. All along the line were immense throngs of people who waited in respectful silence while the funeral train jmssed. As the casket was borne into the church the choir formed in two tiles and the clergymen passed between them heading the procession intoning the opening hues of the beautiful Episcopal burial service; the .casket was borne up the aisle on the shoulders of ti e four undertakers’ assistants, followed by the pall-bearers, the family, and the immediate friends. After the services the undertakers’ assistants lifted the casket on their shoulders and proceeded slowly out of the church, followed by the pall-bearers, members of the family. President and his Cabinet. Gov. Hill and his staff, and the representatives of the army and navy. The remains were placed on a train for Albany, where Bishop Dome recited the committal service at the grave. Earth was thrown in the grave and pressed down, and when the dusk of evening began to settle on forest aud hill, deft hands covered the newly ma le mound with sheets of sod. GENERAL KAULBARS. A Soldier and Diplomat of Distinction. General Kaulbars, the Russian who for the last few weeks has been the subject of a large share of attention throughout the civilized world, on account of his close connection with the Bulgarian imbroglio, is less than fifty years of age. He is an able soldier, and a statesman and diplomat as well, having devoted years of close study to the politics of Europe and a) I A । i I - -- — the East. As the agent of the Czar iu Bulgaria he seems to have performed his work well. Gen. Kaulbars was recently recalled by the Czar. Before leaving Sofia he asked the German Consul to protect Russian subjects. The Consul, after consulting his Government, replied that he was willing to protect genuine Russians, but not Montenegrins or Bulgarians. This implies Germany’s censure of Russia’s protec.ion of the Zaukoff and other conspirators. The Czar instructed Gen. Kaulbars to confide Russian subjects to the care of Fiance. “ Why do you wink at me, sir?” said a beautiful young lady, angrily, to a stranger, at a party an evening or two since. “I beg your pardon, madam,” replied the wit; “I wink as men do when looking at the sun ydur splendor dazz’ed my eyes.” Scene Bridal reception. Several of the guests, after shaking hands with the bride, and all speaking at the same time—- “ Where is the bridegroom?” Bride (naively)—“Oh, he’s up-stairs watching the wedding presents.” one who is quick at repartee must necessarily have a great resp'onse alxility.

CHAS. FRANCIS ADAMS. He Passes Peacefully Away. After Suffering for Years from Brain Trouble. His Public Services in Politics, Diplomacy and Literature—A Useful Life. The Hon. Charles Francis /.darns, Sr., died at his residence in Boston on Sunday, Nov. 21. Mr. Adams' mental and physical powers had been declining for -nearly a decade. Until the very last, however, he was a quiet, dignified gentleman, who simply took no interest in what was going on about him. His intellectual collapse was so complete that for fully two years he had been unable to identify any of his family, except, perhaps, his wife. Nothing roused him except an occasion il outburst of merriment in his presence, when he would join sympathetically in the general laughter. There were no offensive features of his infirmity whatever, the outward effect being simply complete reticence. No apprehension of his immediate death was silt until the day preceding his demise, when Mr. Adams showed slight symptoms of fever. A physician, who was called at once, said his wasted strength would not be able to resist the attack, mild as it was. Mr. Adams lingered some sixteen hours, when Ins life left him as quiet y as a breath of air extinguishes a candle flame. The end, when it came, was simply the flickering out of the last spark of vital fire, which had been fading away so gradually that the change from day to-day was not perceptible. Sketch of His Life. Charles Francis Adams, grandson of John Adams, second President, and son of John Luiney Adams, sixth President of the United States, was born at Boston, August I - . 1807. His father holding dq>lomatii positions in Europe, he spent most of his first ten years abroad, returning to \iueric.i in 1817, when he entered Harvard College, graduating in 1825. He was adm tted to the bar in 1838, but never engaged in practice, having previously married the daughter of Peter C. Brooks, a wealthy Poston merchant. Previous to ISIS he had served as a member of the Massachusetts Legislature for five years. In 1818 he was nominated by the newly organized “free soil" party for the Vice Presidency of the United States. This party, compos d ma nly o f Hemocr ts who were opposed to the extension of slavery, cast but few votes, but its member's, finally coalescing with most of the Northern members of the Whig party, formed the Republican j>aitv, which came into power m 18 (1. Meanwhile, in Mi. Adams was elected a member of Congress. In 1861 Mr. Adams was appointed by President I i neo In Minister to Great JBritnin, a post which he retained until 1868, when ho was recalled nt his own requ-st. In 1871 2 ho acted as arbitrator for the I nited States in the commission to settle the respe, tive claims of Great Britain and the United States growing out of the civil war. He was one of the originators of the Liberal Republican” movement in 1872, but was defeated by Mr. Greeley in securing the Presidential nomination. He subsequently joined the Democratic party, by which he was nominated for Governor of Massachusetts in 1876. Mr. Adams lias furnished many contributions to the North American li< ri'cicand to the (’hn^tian Examiner, and in 1870 delivered before the New York Historical Society tin able discourse on “American Neutrality.” He has published “The Life and Works of John Adams,” ten volumes, and “ 1 he Life and Works of John Quincy Adams," thirteen volumes. John Quincy Adams, the Democratic candidate for Governor of Massachusetts in 1871, and Charles Francis Adams, Jr., who lias long been identified with railroad development, are sons of Mr. Adams. UNCLE SAM'S NAVY. What the ( hies of the Hureau of Const ruction and Kepair Says of It. The Chief of the Naval Bureau of Construction and Repair, in his annual report, to the Secretary of the Navy, says that the Lackawanna, Tennessee, and Shenandoah are beyond repair, thus reducing the number of serviceable vessels in the navy to two first-rate, ten second-rate, twenty third-rate, and seven fourth-rate vessels, th- latter class including two torpedo rams. The Frankl n, Wabash, Minnesota, and New York, all first-rate vessels, are set down as requiring extensive repairs, and thirteen ironclads require more or less repaiis. In addition the naval list comprises thirteen iron and twelve wooden sading vessels used for receiving and transport ships. The new vessels completed, building, or authorized to be built are summed up as follows : One (the Dolphin), complete; two the Boston and Atlanta), armament incomplete; five (the Chicago and the monitors), incomplete; five (the Baltimore, Chariest m, aud Newark, and two gunboats’, under advisement; and four (an armored cruiser, a battle ship, a pneumatic dynamite boat, and a torpedo boat), not yet designed. To this list can be added the Alert and the Ranger, four guns each; the Monocacy, paddle-wheel gunboat, six gnus; Michigan, paddle-wheel gunboat, four guns; Alarm, one gun; Intrepid (yet to be completed), gunboat, two -thirteeninch guns. The remainder of the ironbuilt vessels now in the service consist of thirteen river and harbor monitors with single screws rated as fourth-rates, which could not be got ready for service without an expenditure of §200,000 under this bureau alone. Os the second-rates the Trenton, Omaha, and Vandalia can probably be continued in service ten years longer, the Lancaster and Brooklyn six years, and the Hartford, liiohmond and Pensacola five years. Os the third-rates the Michigan can be continued in the service, for ten years, the Adams, Alliance, Essex, Enterprise, Tallapoosa, Yantic, and Nipsic for six years, and the Juniata, Ossipee, Quinnebaug, Swatara, Galena, Marion, Kearsarge, and Iroquois five years longer. Little Jenny’s big sister is entertaining Mr. Skibbers, and thinks she can get along without any assistance; so she pats the little pert one on the head, and says, “Come, little pet, it’s time your eyes were closed in sleep.” “Guess not,” said Jenny; “mother told me to keep my eyes open when you and Mr. Skibbers were together!” The coming cow will have no horns, says one of our agricultural exchanges. This will be a great relief to the coming woman. Disagreeable ache-quaintauces—Gout and rheumatism.

AGRICULTURE. The Preservation of Haas, To make pickle, use strictly pure stone lime, fine, clean salt and pure water in the following proportions; Two quarts of salt, sixty to s xty-liVo gallons of water and one bushel of Inn ■; the stronger die lima water free from sediment the better. Slake the lime with a portion of the water, then add the balance of tile water and salt. Stir well three or four times at intervals aud then let stand until well settled and cold. Either dip or draw off the clear pickle into the cask or vat iu which it is intended to preserve the eggs. When the cask or vat is tilled to a depth of fifteen to eighteen inches, put iu eggs about one foot deep. Spread over them some pickle that is a little milky in appearance, made so by stirring tip some of the very light lime particles that settle last. Continue doing this as each foot of eggs is added. When the eggs are within about four inches of the top of the cask or vat, cover them with factory doth and spread on two ot three inches of the lime that suit es iu making the p ckl i. It is of the greatest importance that th? pickle be kept continually up over this limo. For putting the eggs into the pickle, it wll be convenient to have a tin basiu punched quite full of holes an inch in diameter, aud the tin large enough to hold six or eight dozen eggs. The edges of the basin should be covered with leather, and it should have a handle about thre- feet long. Fill the basiu with eggs, put both under the pickle, aud turn the eggs out They will go to the bottom without breaking. When the time comes to market the eggs, they must be taken out of the pickle, cleaned, dried, and packed. To clean the eggs, take something like half a hogshead, filling the same about half full of water. Have a sufficient number of crates to hold twenty to twenty-five dozen eggs, made of siats placed about three-quarters of au inch apart. Bnk one of the crates into the half-hogshead, take the basin used to put the eggs into the pickle, dip the eggs out and turn them into the crate. When full rinse the eggs by raising it up and down in the water, and, if necessary to properly clean them, set the crate up and douse water over the eggs. All limo should bo cleansed off before packing. After the eggs are carefully washed they should be dried in the crates. They ought to dry quickly and bo packed as soon as dry. Brick vats built in the cellar around the walls, with about half their depth below the cellar surface, say four or five feet deep, six feet long, and four feet wide, are well adapted to preserving eggs, although many use and prefer largo tubs made of wood. Wooden vats are best made of spruce, though pine answers a good purpose. Oak should never bo used, as it stains the eggs. The place in which the vats are built or the tubs kept should be clean ami sweet, where a steady, low temperature can be nuiiutained, the lower the temperature : the better—that is, down to any point al ove freezing. The above directions for preserving eggs have the indorsement of the National Butter, Choose, and Egg Association. Jhitter and Other Pats. Prof. Thomas Taylor, microscopist of the United States Department of Agriculture, in a letter to Prof. Sturtevant, New York Experiment Station, Geneva, N. Y , describes mi- \ nutely the preparation of fats for microscopical । exam nation, but which arc not capable of being fully c irriod out by the ordinary observer. In relat on to lard, however, Prof. Taylor makes a statement of interest to all when ho says: “No reliance can be placed upon the lards of commerce ns to their purity. Leaf lard is now | rendered by s one firms with a small quantity | of soda for the purpose of dissolving the tissues; by this means an impure lard is proi dueed which contains a small amount of soap, ! in which the crystals are not so well defined | as m lard rendered without the aid of chemicals. ■Lard < inposed of stearine and cottou-seed oil is also on the market, it mav contain beef I at, as one of the forms of slea me is a roughly made biproduet of the oil of beef fat A hud thus mad’ will show strongly marked stellar crystals. To avoid mistakes in regard to the morphology of the fats of plants aud animals, I always render the fats I use in my ' exp I 'nents, noting the stages of crystalhzai lion through which they pass in oil solutions.” Another statement in the letter is in relation to Prof. Weber, of Ohio, who has g ven attention to the subjects of butter and other fats. Refering thereto Prof. Taylor holds that the exjiermients of Prof. Weber are calculated to introduce confusion and difficulty into a matter in itself comparatively clear and easy. In short the object on which his efforts have b. e i cmcciitrated, like that so seduously kept in view by the “British Circumlocution Office.” as portrayed by Dickens, appears to have been “how not to do it.” In slimming up the whole matter Prof. Taylor advises that it bo borne in mind that the I manufacturers of counter eit butter must I limit their treitment of the substances they j use to such manipulations as are consistent ’ with the salability of the product.— Chicago I Tribune. .1 Sete Plan for Keepin a Apples. 1 here are constantly coming up new ways , tor doing upon a farm almost everything. But in many of these new ways there are so I ma ay nice conditions about them, in order i that success can follow, as always to leave a I loophole through which the humbug may fall back upon. One of the last of these ' new things is to keep apples in “wet cellars.” i There is nothing like it. A correspondent of u New York paper—a farmer from Virginia he ehiims to be—commends damp, wet cellars for j apple keeping, his cellar being so, and he has I Northern Spy aud Yellow Be Itlower, not long | keepers generally, up to July! He also nteni tious per.'Otts visiting him from West Virginia, । who had handled thousands of barrels of ap- ! tiles, when one of them remarked that “whei- ■ ever lie entered a cellar and was compelled to i wall; on boards to keep out. of the water, he : was sure to find the fruit in good condition,” I etc. Now, as our experience is exactly the j reverse of this, and as far as we know it is the general experience, we should like to hear of , any one who can indorse the Virg nia farmer’s i practice. It is perfectly well known that orchardisti i who have been extensively engaged in apple- ' growing all the active portions of their lives, ; and who uniformly barrel their apples direct- | lv after being removed from the trees, forcing l the heading of the barrel firmly upon them, । place them in cool, dry cellars—of course the I cooler the better—and find them to remain, j when these conditions are observed, through- | out the winter and to the end of spring, sound | and of unimpaired quality. Damp cellars are : always to be avoided when they can be, al j ways feared, and where a moist atmosphere I prevail < to any appreciable extent, we have j known lime aud charcoal to be used to absorb it. — Cci’inantoicn T<bgraph. Stulnblina Horses. The Pittsburgh Stoeknmn siys: “Some good horses are addicted to stuiubiing while walking or moving in a slow trot. A wellversed veterinarian slates that there are two causes that would tend to produce this faulty action; one, a general weakness in the muscular system such as would be noticed in a tired hors ■; the other, a weakness of the exterior I musclet of the leg brought about by carrying j too much weight on the toe. To effect a cure,” I ho adds, “1 gnten the weight of each front I shoe about four ounces; have the toe of the I shoo made of steal instead of irou, it will wear i longer; have it rounded off about the sum? as i it would be when one-third worn out, in order t > prevent tripping; allow one week’s rest; have the legs showered for a few minutes at a time with cold water through a hose, in order to create a spray; then rub dry, briskly, from the chest down to the foot. Give walking exercise daily during this week for about an hour twice a day. When you commence driving again, omit the slow jog; either walk or send him along at a sharp trot for a mile or two, then walk away, but do not speed for at least several weeks. By this means the habit of stumbling from either of the above causes will be pretty well overcome. ” Heedina Hens. The rule about feeding hens varies with the breed. The Asiatic varieties are easily over fed, especially with corn, grow fat, lay but few eggs, and work off their fat only by sitting. Leghorns and other non-sitters can scarcely be fed too much if given slowly, and so the hens are compelled to scratch for it It is as necessary that a calf should be halter broken as that a colt should b?. The time to do both is when the animals are young. A cow that will lead easily is much less troublesome to manage under any circumstances. A ring in the nose of a young bull will facilitate learning to lead, and the lesson once learned will, never be forgotten.

NUMBER 22.

INDIANA STATE NEWS. —Secretary Metcalfe, of the State Board of Health, returned from thu cattle-plagued districts of Clinton County, where, in connection with Dr. D. E. Salmon, Chief of the Bureau of Animal Industry" at Washington, he made a thorough investiga--tion into the disease. Dr. Salmon says it is not pleuro-pneumonia, but verminous bronchitis, very contagious, and frequently fatal. The post-mortem in each case discloses thousands of small, hair-like worms, from one to two inches in length, in the bronchial tube. The infected cattle are quarantined, and it is thought that the disease will be checked. —Samuel Grube, a farmer of Wabash County, has recently received word that a fortune estimated at §250,000 awaits his order in Switzerland. Mr. Grube’s grandfather emigrated to America from Switzerland in 1732, leaving two bachelor brothers, who iu time died without heirs, leaving large estates, which, under the Swiss law, was taken possession of by’ the Government. Ninety years have elapsed since the Grube property was taken iu charge. A neighbor of Grube, who takes a Swiss paper, saw the final advertisement of the Government for heirs, and at once informed Samuel. —Michael O’Brien, of Columbus, went to the < bolic cemetery and fixed up a large new lot he had purchased, to which place he intended to move at an early day the remains of his family buried in the old burying ground. Then, after dinner, he went down town and ordered a huge monument to be built, with the inscription, etc., and to be at once erected in the center of the lot. He then went home and jokingly remarked to his wife, “Everything is ready now, if I get sick and die, to be buried.” In less than an hour he was seized with congestion of the bowels, and died. —The trustees of the State University have just closed an important session. Two new professors have been selected, Dr. Gustaf Karsten, of the University of Geneva, to take the chair of romance and languages, to succeed Dr. Garner, whose resignation takes effect in June; also Dr. Leonard Stejneger, of the Smithsonian Institution, who takes the chair of biology, giving special attention to ornithology. Both have accepted and are of national reputation among educators. —Both iron and lead ore have been discovered in paying quantities in Denver, Miama County. Large quantities of it lay on the surface, and at one point there is a mound of solid ore covering five acres. The ore assays 87 per cent, pure lead, and is found in abundance at the mouth of Wesaw Creek, which assays 75 per cent, pure. A mining company is now being formed, and the little town is in a fever of excitement over the rich prospect. —Hugh Kennedy, in passing near a belt in the Jeffersonville machine-shops, was caught, his coat becoming entangled, and before he could extricate himself was drawn into its folds and was being whirled rapidly to death. Fortunately, in his struggles the belt was thrown from the pulley, letting the boy fall heavily to the ground, thus saving his life. ■—A lady residing three miles south of YVabash, gave birth to a girl baby having but one leg, the left limb being wanting. In all other respects the child is perfectly formed, is lusty and strong, and, the physicians say, will survive. The peculiar deformity excites much curiosity, and the infant has been visited by many persons. —A natural-gas company has been formed at Crawfordsville, and the right of waj’ for the mains secured from the City Council. The company is composed of Truesdale & Foster, of St. Louis, and C. W. YVright, of Crawfordsville. Work will be commenced within six months, and the works are to be completed within a year. —Diphtheria has broken out in its most malignant form iu Y T eale Township, Daviess County, and the epidemic is assuming alarming proportions. Two deaths among adults have already occurred, and a number of persons are beyond recovery. The attending physicians think the epidemic may sweep over the whole county. —During the year 1887 New Albany will probably have three additional railroads—i the Ohio and Mississippi; Dayton, Cincfift ; nati and Louisville; and Vincennes, Jasper and New Albany roads. In addition, a road will be built from Cannelton to n point on the Air Line to connect with New Albany. —John M. Day, a soldier of the late war, died in Madison. Mr. Day was a private in the Eighty-second Indiana, being the first colored man enlisted for the war. He marched, slept, ate, and fought by the side of his white comrades for three years, and never for once was the color line drawn. —Burglars entered the residence of Yliss Margaret Allen, near Liberty, and at (he muzzle of a revolver forced the inmates — three ladies—to deliver up their valuables. They succeeded in carrying off about §7O in money and old coins. There were three masked men. —The police of Shelbyville have captured a burglar named “Walk” Hammond, who proved to be the last member of the Reno gang of express robbers. He was the leader in the famous Ohio and Mississippi robbery near Seymour, ten years ago. —Sheriff H. P. Clausen, of Orange County. New York, writes the postmaster at New Albany that an old man named Charles Judson, claiming to hail from Floy6 County, Indiana, is now at Goshen, N. X., insane. —Wild turkeys are being shot by the hunters in Dubois aud Crawford Counties, and wild geese in Jackson. —Epizootic, or a malignant form of distemper, has broken out in the western part of Adams County. The disease so fur has been confined to Normans, for which that country is noted. The disease has but freshly broken out, and the extreme caution being used by farmers will prevent further spreading of the disease. —Peter Munch, a passenger on the eastbound train from Chicago, died in his berth in a Pullman car when the train was a few miles west of Fort Wayne, of consumption. He was on his way home to New York from Denver.