St. Joseph County Independent, Volume 15, Number 1, Walkerton, St. Joseph County, 29 June 1889 — Page 1

^VOLUME XV. ft Strange Mystery Snmnndinj Ils Disappearance. A STORY OF EXTRAORDINARY INTEREST. ' 1 • —■—" | BY FRANK BARRETT. I CHAPTER XlX—Continued. I The first thing that I noticed in passing | under the great block that bridged the awI j U I chasm was the comparative silence. We I could no longer hear the rushing of the I stream on the other side, only the dull roar I o f the water as it struck the bottom of the I canyon some thousands of feet below. I Brace’s voice was startlingly distinct I when he spoke. I “You tell mo the thing is on the other I side of the ropes, my gel,” he said. I She answered yes, and we went slowly | along the narrow and jagged ledge, our I faces toward the glittering quartz, seeking I interstices and projections for hold to our I hand-. I We were getting away from the fall, but I at a certain point the natural path returned I toward it in a zig-zag along a lower projeeI tion. At the angle which offered a little I wider standing space, we stopped. I Tfhis here hole was fust showed mo br I the Kid’s mother." said Brace: “it had I served ner father for a eaehette in quite the i | early days of this country’s glory. I “A eaehette." he explained, “is a place I where you keep things snug. A'most every i I miner, before the Vigilance Committee . I nominated me Judge, had a eaehette. This g was mine, and many a ounce I’ve brought I I down here: fur you see, barrin’ accidents. ; I it’s won’erful safe. You will allow that no i ■ one could find his way down here in the ; | dark” (I shuddered at the thought of any I one attempting such a fearful venture)’, I “and from here right up to the hole is a fair I straight line, so that no light could come * down without its bein' seen: butthat ain’t I the only safeguard, as you shall seo. Come I on. sir." I We made our way by foot along the nar- : । row ledge for some distance, still descend- | ing. When Brace again halted, the light of | his torch revealed the yellow stream falling silently through space, a few feet before I him. That silent fall impressed me with a i sense of the awful depth of the gulf beside ■ us - . Tho ledge ended abruptly where Brae? | stood: a recess in the wall allowed ample | standing room for us three. I "The greaser never got no furder down I than this; but it weren’t fur enough for | me," said Brace. “I had my idea of gettin’ I right down to the bottom of this hole. where these waters must have carried tons A o' gold." I “But the ledge ends, here.” I “It do; but," he added, lifting his torch, I "it goes on again over there.” I The light fell on a jutting projection of I quartz upon the opposite side of the chasm, I distant at least twenty feet. I “But you cannot leap that." I “Correct, end I ain^t goin’ to try.” J He laid himself upon his face, and ■ stretched his arm down the chasm: when I he arose, ho had a cord in his htmd. PullI ing this in. he drew up two eoils of stout I rope. As lie drew them in. I saw that their g other ends were attached to rocks upon the I opposite ledge, one above the other, with I about four feet between, I “We must hitch ’em tight—give us a hand, ■ sir," he sai I. | I helped him to make the rope-; taut, and I fasten their loose ends upon the p ejecting | crags that he had long employed lor that I purpos l . I “There, sir." he said, taking his torch from I Lola and hoi ling it over the black gulf. | “there’s as pretty a bridge a id hand-rail as I the heart of man could reasonably desire. ” I For all that. I held my breath in I saw I him step out on the lower rope and make I his wav. holding by the upper one, across 1 that black abyss. Mv turn came, and with I the bioo I humming in my ears. I .-1 pped I out. upon the rope. It swung to and fro in I the middle, and I was seized with that irre- | sistibh* sug estion of self-destruction which I affects the imagination of most peopl ■ in ■ looking down from an extraordinary height. I Lola began to cross before I was well off. I and when we stood all three in safety on the | ledge, a fervent "Thank God 1" rose from my ■ heart. | “Wai. we’ve got to git back ag’in,” obK served Brace, as if my thankfulness were a E little prema u e: “howsever, 'tain't bad to E think of Providence when you're in danger; I now. my gel. it's for you to lead on. ■ “You can stay here: you're too heavy for ■ where I'm going,” said she.takingthe torch ■ from his hand. K With a swiftness that terrified me, she I went down the side of the precipice, finding B foothold where we. looking down from the I projection, could see none. ■ "They don’t know danger—kids don’t.” said Brace, in a low tone. “Emi.” he added, looking into the depths about him uneasily, “I wouldn't mind feeling tho same myself. First time I ever felt skeery, down this hole, and I'm durned if it sha’n’t bo the last. I’m gettin’ too old to enj’y risky work." I could not take my eyes from the light below, as it passed in jerks from point to point. At last it stopped, and after a minute’s pause, to my great relief, it began to return. Quicker and quicker the light danced along until I felt sick find giddy with fear for the girl's safety: and then, with one last boun I, she stood upon our shelf of rock, hoi ling the Great Hesper in her hand. “Am I good?” she asked earnestly, nestling up to my side. (. HAPTER XX. Il's the very imme,” said Brace, taking the stone in his hand. “Do you take care of it," said I. “for I find enough to do to take care of myself." “Will,l reckon it won't be long afore we’io on the best side o’ this hole," he replied, putting the stone in his pocket. He was certainly ill at ease and less confident than usual, for he took his lurch and examined the fastenings of Ihe ropes, and then from an adjacent cayitv he b. ought out another coil ot cord, in which cross piec is of stout hickory were ; ( knotted at intervals of a foot. He unfastened it ; nd laid it loose upon the rock, with the looped end Lee. "The ropes has been years exposed to the damp, and they’re bound to go one day. lief t ey should happen to go this day, this here knotted rone may come in partic’lar J han iy. You know how to use it, my gel. here’s for a start. ” ith tho torch in his hand ho began the return along the rope. H" had got to the middle when he stopped. “What's that?” he asked sharply, holding me upper rope with one hand, while he rn sod the torch with the other, and peered <.n f into th ■ darkness. It was tearful to see him standing there with the uphel I torch over the awful chasm, the one luminous object in the blackness. Bid you hear anything, pardner?" “No." "eecmed to me I hcered a rifle cocked. Jirnoil ohl foid!” lie muttered in self-re-proach, as he continued his course. M ithout accident; or other incident, he r ’ a hod t ie bulge, ami with a grunt of content seated himself on a bowlder, letting the torch d: op by his side. There was a pool of wat i there; with a hiss the light went out. | The next instant there tvas a flash in tiro da kness beyond, followed by ttio sharp crack of a rifle shot. We could see nothing, but from the lodge °PP'sit--e ime a groan, and Brace called L faintly: “I’m hit. pardner; look out for yourself.” The shot had been fired after the light Was extinguished, leaving him in obscurity. ’lhe faculty that had < nabled the assassin to descend that terrible ledge in the dark hadenal led him to mark down poor Brace, When he was no longer visible to our eyes. ’J his refl-elion struck me as, torch in hand, I sp.ung upon tho rojo bridge to ©Jots to my fallen partner.

COUNTy St UnCicpeniicnt.

“Back, pardner, hick,’ groaned Brace; he s got tho Hesper, and he’ll have your life—back!” I raised my torch, and looking toward tho I mdge, I saw a man kneeling over Brace, j he raised his arm to silence B ace, and the light fell on the bright blade of tho knife j m his hand, I shouted. Turning, he saw me midway across the chasm, an I spi ting to his feet. 'J hen I recognized him. It was | Van Hoeck. ; It was he. but could I believe mv senses? I His eyes wore not the same. At that distance his s ghtless ey, s should h'tvo been ■ hardly d.st nguishable from his cadxv rous face, but now they shone out black and lustrous. Yet in that instant, as he looked toward me, they teemed to fade away in the light of my toreh. And this was no deception of my sight. With a savage cry of rage ho held up his arms to shield his eyes from the light, an I grasping his kni e. he made, his way quickly toward the ro -k to which the rop ■ on w hi di I stood was attached. I«i a moment tho whole mystery was revealed. He was a Nyctalops. and his eyes, blind in the light, wore gifted with tho extraordinary power of seeing in the dark—a power by which was explain; d all that had hitherto been inscrutable in the robbery of the Great Hesper and tho attendant events at Monnen Abbey. With a perception that ho intended to cut the rope which sustained me, I hastened to reach the lodge on which ho stood. But : my progress was necessarily slow, for the j lower cord, stretched with the weight upon , it, formed a deep bond, and my damp boots I slipped upon its wet surface. Which woul I I e cut first? If it were the . upper one, I mu-t trust to catching the lower ns I fell. With this view, I kept my- । self tts perpendicular as circumstances perI mitted; at the same time grasping the up- : per one with all my force, in case he cut the . lower one. i I was within a yard of ihe rock when I I felt the rope under my foot jei k as Van I Hoeck cut through the first strands: the I next instant it went altogether, and I was ■ left swinging by my hands to the upper rope , over the chasm. I "Die! cursed dog. die!" shouted Van I Hoeck, with the frantic excitement, of a man achieving at last the object of his life. I rs he attacked the upper rope with his knife. “Dis. and know that all you cherish in the world shall b • mine—wealth, and the woman you love. Hie!” Ami with that he severed the last stran I. and I swept down through space. Clinging with desperate energy to the rope in my hands. I swung, cramping myself together in anticipation of a violent shock against the side of the precipice. Happily tho rock above projected a little, so that the blow was less severe than I expert id. I rebounded. an'd swung to and fro like a pendulum in the pitchy darkness. For. in order to get a firmer grasp upon the rope when I saw his intention o: cutting it. I ha I dropped the torch, which fell like the spark <f a rocket into the depths below. What was Ito do? 1 dared not try to pull myself hand over hand up the wet rop ■. for the slightest rebixation of my bold might allow the rope to slip, and I should be lo t assuredly. “Dear, a-e you gherc still?” Lola called from above. "Yes." I replie 1. “Here is the rope—nheil call, you can trust yourself to it." At the same I ime I felt the knotted rope dangling against my shoulders. "Now.” she called. It was not an instant too %oon. I felt, the wet rope slipping thtough my hands. Leaving go with one hand. I clutched out wildly for the knotted rope, and by t he happiest chance succeeded in se zing it. I got a cross-piece bet wo m my feet, and I wm comparatively safe, if Lola had strength to hold on for a few moments. But I that I might not tax her too greatly, I still 1 grasped the wet rop \ "Saved!" Icalled out to 1 er. “Not for long," shouted Van Iloeek. from the opposite side, and I heard ihe snap of the spring as he cl >sed the breechloader, and then the "click" as he cocked the piece. "Would ho shoot me or the girl?” I asked myself in that moment. He fired. ; nd the ringing shot was followed by a sharp cry of piinfrom above, and the eross-i ieee on which I stood gave a little jerk, but no more. She must have eseaped. despite that cry. or she could not still have held on to the roj c. But terrible as these thoughts that passed through my mind in those briei moments were, they woie banished from my mind by a vet more terrille appeal to my senses. Following almost immo iiately upon the i crack of the lille and Lola’s cry. a mass o: rock, probably disintegrated by the frost, and started from its place by the rove: boration of the shot, slid down the face of the precipice, hurtled against a i>ock, and some | moments after fell with a deep "pong" into the water below. But as if this had been the key-st me of the fabric that uphi Id the mighty weight of tiie enormous rock that covered the chasm, its fall was followed by the crumbling away and precipitation of others at intervals rapidly decreasing, their fa'l evei taally becoming a continued downpour, mat k d now and then by a louder crash as some 1 irger block gave way. The roar of artillery, tho peal of thunder, was not to be compared to the awtul din athe great rock jerke I downward, as th ■ quartz splintered and gave way under it, shattering and grinding tho opposing rocks, and bursting away huge fragments that struck from side to side as they hurtled down, tearing^and splitting the very heart of the mountain as it seemed. The fall was most violent at so.ne distance away from us further down the ravine; only an occasional block, ground under tho great mass as it jerked down, was shattered to pieces, and fell in dust and rubble about us. But our turn was at hand. It seemed to me as if the last day had come, and tho world was crumbling to pieces. To the terror of an earthquake was added the horror of impenetrable darkness, and the consciousness that the gigantic rock that vaulted the abyss was slowly jerking down upon u-u I must have kept my hold upon the rock by Instinct; I had no consciousness of volition. The awful eruption had continued for some moments —scarcely so long as one might take to rend this description—with increasing intensity, when suddenly, with an appalling crash, the great roof tilted up. I saw the earth slowly gape open above me. letting in the blinding sunlight, and then the upper lip of jagged rock, reaching its hi .host elevation, shot sidelong away, making visible the long strip of blue heaven between the towering peaks of the mountain. One last “pong,” as the rock wedged itself afresh lower down the preeiji e, and then all was still. 'The sight of the blue- skv, the, sense of relief, was too much for me. I trembled violently, and lor a moment I thought I must relinquish my hold. But a piteous cry from Lola nerved me to fresh effort. I saw now the two cut ropes, an 1, grasping one in each hand, I drew myself up, using the knotted tope as slightly as I could, and so presently I scrambled upon the ledge. Lola was lying upon the ground drawn against the rock round which sho had passed the knotted cord. The ball had struck her and she had fallen, but Ihe devoted girl had passed the noose round her body, and so saved my life for tho second time. I knelt beside her, and raised iier head. She opened her beautiful eyes aid smiled, as she took my hand. Sho could do no more. CHARIER XXL “I knowed it must go one day. How fares it. pardner!” called Brace from the opposite ledge. Looking across. I saw him sitting on the boulder binding his arm with his neckcloth. “Lola is hit. The villain has done his work." I said. “He’ll never do no more.” Brace answered, pointing up the ledge. Van Hoeck had tried to escape the way he came, after shooting Lola, and had got some distance along the ledge when the great rock opened and si d away. Ho stood on tho narrow path now —a ghastly spectacle. A piec j of quartz had struck him on the head: a thin stream of blood was trickling down his cheek. In one hand he held the Great Hesper; in the other he grasp cd his rille.

WALKERTON, ST. JOSEPH COUNTY, INDIAN A, SATURDAY, JI NE 29, 1889.

i But he dared not move from tho position he had rer.c'ied when tho roof tilted up; for I the light that burst in had blinded him one > 1 j more. The sensitive retina had closed over the pupils, and ihe blank, sightless eyes stared wildly round, incapable of seeing. ' ■ It was possible for Brace to reach him bv going along the ledge. “Will you save him?" I asked. “Not 1. pardner," he replied, “I leave him < to Providence, be his end what it may. The : shot, lie fired at my poor youngster started i the consurn, and brought tho whole thing down, ’ll is God Almighty’s judgment. Let i it b i Aan Hoeck 11 the rifle slip from his hand; } how insignilleunt seemed t> us the sound ■ that came up from below, as the weapon i struck a rock, after the mighty discord t hat i had thundered in our ears, and yet to him how terribly significant! We could seo his hand quivering as he groped along tho cd .0 of the wall. In vain now ho strained his eyes to se? tho ledge by which ho had followed us. Yet he eoul I notstand forever there. Ho found a crevice for his fingers, and made a st qi forv ard; ho advanced aga n, but tho rock ho put his foot on was a piece ; of t,!ie debris that had fallen upon tho led re. 1 It rol.od under his weight. Ho staggered ; back, swin ing his arms in the vain attempt : to get an equilibrium, then he shot forward. ! and tell headlong down, down, down into , the abyss. 1 I held my breath; it seemed minutes bo- । fore tant hollow "pong" reached our ears. 1 telling us that. Van Hoeck was gone forever 1 and the Great Hesper wdh him. * • * » x- x- x I 1 10l ° was cord, and to spare, in the coils Weighting one end with a stone, I throw an end across to Brace, and when the cut ropes were knott d, and a bridge once mo o so med, lie crossed, and knelt down by me over poor Lola. He examined her wound, and shook his hea l in silence; there was no hope. We made a matt, '’ess of the rugs on the smoothest p irt of the rock and attempted . to lilt her upon it. But the. movement gave I her pain, and she motioned us to desi t. i Thon pointing upward, sho made signs for US to ]ca\o per. “Not while you are with uw my poor gel," said her father, with m<> o tenderness than I had ever heard m his voice. We had the flask and som ’ food in a wallet. We at'- when w ■ were hung y. seated beside Lola. 'then, exhausted with fatigue and the torribl'i st ain we had I'Cii subj 'cted to. we tmconseiously fell a-le -p. wiih our bucks resting against the rock. Tho la-t. thing of wh ch I was conscious was the pre-sing of Lola’s lips upon my hau l. « * * s » < Brace ton hod my arm. "Pardnei ." he sai I. in a tone of awe. "the Kid’s g<me." I looked whore I had s -o । her lying with her lac • to my hand. Sim was gmi ■ liferally. Thore was a little stain of bleed upon the rock —a diop Jur’l er on. anetecr close to the edge of the platform. She had k> pt her promise—sho had liecn good: and now the sufferings of her short, life were ended. "She knowed it was no good our waitin’— poor l.tti • । uss." I feit something in my hand; opening it. I found a ring I had bought for Lola. Sho had sipped it there before sho wont. Sir Edmun I and Edith camo to Na 1 Diego in June, the loveliest season o| that lovely land. 'The air from the <ea t< mo wed tho sun’s heat. The plantations were already burdened with fruit, everywhere there was a redolence of orange-bio-siun-“a very suggestive fragrance, my dear h-L low." said tho baronet, pressing my hand. Edith was charmed with .ill sho saw. “Is 11 is m v home ?” sh a- ked. 1 turned to fir Edmund. ’ Well. v. e must g«, through the !..rn:a itv I of looking at, tho books, mv dear." sai l he. 1 had no hesitation in showing them, and | when lie had seen the spl nd d results they ; already showed, ho formally sanet on'd a j renewal of our ongagoment; but we hat not waited for that consem to let on: hea.ts I join in unconstrained delight. Our second engagement was hapjil/ ■ long-r than ihe Hist, but we wore mar led i the week after the vines were cleared. Bia-e was at our wedding breukf. s’. 1 When it was < ver ho took some of the j flowers from the t tide an I disappea cd for ' some days. I knew how he had spent the brief holiday. If 1 had entt lined my dould. it would hav' I di-| eile I whoa, in his return, bm ti ok the ol I agrecm nt | from his ] oc o t an 1 pointed totlmp >-t- --! sei int: “It is understood betw on the nb ,vo pmt ; 1 ners tha’. in the event of a lucky lind, the i Kill shall not be I rgcl:on.” And. indeed, in my wf ■ 1 had fouml .1 i dearer prize th in any 1 had dreamed of , when I signed the <■< mpaet. [THE END.) Pointers for Weather Prophet*. In Kansas, wli.'n the wild geese flv to the south west in the fall, the pco]>ie exjmet a blizzard. There are many pregnodics of the season which have their otigin in the migrations of birds, and in the peculiar formation and appearance of the goose bone, which is to-day looked upon by thousands of people as a sure prognostic of what the coming winter will be, and in Kentucky, if the issue should : be raised whether the Signal Service 1 Bureau or the goose bone should go, the Kentuckian would cling to the goose bone; in fact, Henry AVattcrson. if he had to choose between the stareyed goddess of reform and the goose bone, would not dare to offend Kentuckians by discarding the prophetic bone. The people of Kentucky say if rhe breast bone of a goose is red, or lias many red spots, expect a cold and stormy winter, but if only a few spots are visible, the winter will be mild, and they furnish the following recipe so that it may be read intelligently, which instructions are as follows: “To read the winter of any year take the breastbone of a goose hatched during the preceding spring. The bone is translucent, ami it will lie found to be colored and spotted. The dark color and heavy spots indicate cold.” AVhen wild geese and wild ducks move south the weather will be cold ; if north, the weather will be warm, | and birds migrate south much earlier jif the winter will lie early. A severe winter follows if crows fly south, but if they fly north it will be an open winter. No killing frost comes when the martins return to their old haunts, and the first song of the robin is the voice of spring. The swan is said to build its nest high during seasons when freshets visit the localities where the swan broods, ami those who cultivate low lands noli 1 how the swan’s nest is built. If it is built low there v ill bd no unusual rains. There are many other jirognostics dm ived from observing the habits of birds, of interest to the seaman ami the land lubber, and in concluding, the popular - prognostic of the farmer, drawn from watching the nest of tho swallow, is given: When the swnl'lovv’s nest is high The smiininr is very dry ; AVhen th ' swhJlow bnikleth low You c.vi h&“< ly buihl sow. — Sav 1 nnnh A j The man v lu> has succeded in finding I the way to the pocket in one of his j wife’s dresses hanging on the nail in i the chamber clo et knows pretty well . i b<>w Columbus felt when he had just discovered Amciica.

' E PLUBIBUSUNUM!’’ | Ring high, •.ing low, And big guns blow I Our patriot anthems -tuno ’em With each brass band Throughout the land; And shout “E I’luribus Unum !’’ Each year, you see, Our Jubilee— Nut being merely regal — With bombs and drums In triumph comes. And loudly sere..ms the Enjla. The lit lie boy Declares our joy In manner most enqdiatic ; And eloquence Grows too intense Eor throats < nthusiasmatic. TNDEPENDENRE DAY. A BRIEF RETROSPECTIVE VIEW. The Nation as It Was How the Idea of j National Eiberty Was Developed Inteie.ting; Facts in Early History.

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I" ■ i'i cnsi >nii nun beliefs ns will ns by distune-, wi re s uttered along the \llnntic coast from Maine to Floridr.. They cnibrn :ed n total arm o' SO 1.00? »qvn e miles, witli a |xq>’i !nt ion <if Jin >.OO ' Fr. m till s nucleus l:a; <levelo)ie<l the pre-cM *'!'»’« d Stat"-, with nn ari'ii of 3.UtXi.<X» squn •> inti" and u piq ulll i >ll of f<II,IMB,<IOO ]»'<qil '. Th ■ heroes w h > took part in 1 he hntt Ie of Jex ington tin l no idea of fighting for II t ert vns e nation. Tin y only knew that n I >ng scries of oppression Im 1 < ilminn o l in ’he des> met inn of ii xiilunblo lot of their scanty sup) lies, nnd they fought to avenge lhe out rWF». England Ili n, ns now, was a manufnctuiing nation, at d she sought by arldtfary an ! tyrnn-

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hical laws to make the colonies a )>erpetmil i market for lie ■ u -o H. 1 T this purpos ■ Pa-lia ■ m mt hni passed no less than I. went v-nine laws restricting or prohibiting libor, They forbade the erection of machinery, the use of wat tfatls, or th j manufacture of articles of any i kind. Th 'coasting trade in lumber. fnh. mo- i lasses a id sugarwa; interdicted, and th ■ ves- j S' Is engaged in it. with their cargoes. w> re c >r- , fiseated. The revolution was begun for the pur- 1 pose of rd -asing labor from these arbitrary j restrictions. In thos r days, before a postal system had even been dreamed of. i required twenty days for news of the battle qf Ijexmgton to reach South Ca rolina. The <ft ‘ct there as elsewhere was electrical. In common with her sist r colonies. South Caroli, a sent assurances of sympathy and assistance. The colonies were a unit in resolving to tight. The heroes who led in the unequal struggle were young then, and added the ardor of youth to an inborn love of freedom. Time proved the superiority of such a combination over professional soldiery. Washington was 43 when he assumed command <fth i Continental army. Jefferson was but 33 when he wrote the Declaration of Independence. Os the members of the Constitutional Convention of 1787, Jonathan Dayton v.as not yet 27; William Jackson was 23; and Alexander Hamilton v.as but a few months past 33. The average age o the whole number was a little less than 45 years. When the battle of Bunker Hil was f< light, the supply of ammunition in the continental army consisted of twenty-seven half-barrels of powder. This was soon after augmented by thirtysix half-barrels from Connecticut. There were but fifty bayonets in the patriot army during that battle. But they know net what fear was. and after their ammunition was exhausted, fought with clubbed guns or with stones. Public sentiment underwent a rapid change as the struggle progressed. It very soon became evident that the only hope for the colonists lay in renouncing allegiance to the British crown. People began Io talk of freedom ; freedom was preashed from the pulpits, and pamphlets advocating freedom were lavishly circulated. On March 25, 1776, South Carolina adopted a Constitution and provided for self-government. Rhode Island proclaimed her absolute independence of Great Britain on Maj’ 4, and on the 10th of the same month the Massachusetts I House of Representatives requested the people ' to assemble and decide whether they should ! pledge their lives and fortunes to the support j of Congress in case independence should be declared. During the next,six weeks the colonics, vith the exception of Now York, determined to unite in renouncing allegiance to Great Britain. The New York Assembly was deterred from joining the colonies in this movement by a doubt as to the power of Congress io dissolve the existing rela.ions. They thought best to first submit the question to Ilie people. On the 13th of May, the Virginia convention that ha I takin the place of the Provincial As- | sembly passed u resolution urging Congress to immediate aclion. Connecticut, Delaware, Now Hampshire and New Jersey passed similar resolutions, and were soon followed by Pennsylvania and Maryland. In response to these requests, Richard Henry Dee of Virginia, offered the following resolui tions on June 7th, which were seconded by John , Holmes: I “That these united c< luiies are, and of right I cught to be, free and independent States ; that ; they are absolved from nil allegiance to the ■ British crown, and that all political connection 1 between them and the State of Great Britain is, and ought to be, disst Ived. i "That it is expedient forthwith to take the I most effectual nnamres for forming foreign , allances. “That a plan of confederation be prepared and transmitted to the v spective colonies for their comideraiion and approbation. This was the first direct and open declaration of national independence. No act'on was taken upon these resolutions, however, until July Ist, when Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, Bonja-

min Franklin, Roger Sherman and R. 11. Livingston were appointed a committee to embody tho resolutions in a formal decla a ion. After two days of earnest debate the declaration -vas adopted by twelve of th > colonies ’.lithout- a dissenting voice, New York being still una';!e to vote. July Bth a member o; the Committee of Public Safety read the Declara ion to a vast assembly in the State House yard, and at the same time the famous Liberty Bell waisett i ringing to proda m the joyous tidings. On tho following day the brigades were foniied in a hollow square on the para lo ground a New York. Washington saton horseback within the square while one of his aids read the m< mentous doer—mei.t. Tiie soldiers received the announcement with eh ers; there was fconer.il rejoicing throughout tho city, and debtor; were roll a :ed from prison to join in the f sJvities. Thus, in th > fa'o of overwhelming discouragements, was the d cisive step tak> 11 Tho Canadian expedition, from which much h id b un expected, had resulted in a disastrous faT ire. Tho col >nies were wholly without resourc s ; England vm making extensive pre) 11 u i >us to prosecute the war, and there scum id scarcely a ra/ of hups in the genotal gloom. Vet they wi re ftgh ing for liberty, and no in Titicewa; counted too great in that sacro I cause. When hostilities were ended and the bond of mutual interest, t hat hal held tho (olonis together through seven weary years relaxed, a peril greater than foreign loos' thvea < ned the new States. Tho articles < f confederation wire faulty, and owing to the local jealousies of tho different c Tories and the limita ion of the powers of Congress, tho Union was threatened with dissolution a contingency tha'. must have proved fa ah It required the best, skill of that generation of statesmen to obviate this danger, "The e nmtry for seven years hud been traversed and wasted by contending armies, almost 1 from end to end. Cities and villages had been ! laid in aihes. Habitations hal been deserted . mid loti to decay. Farms, . tripped of their j f< nces and deserted by their ow ners, had for I years produced 1 nly weeds. Camp fevers, will: i ihe hardships and piivn ions of war, had 1 destroyed more than tiie sword; and till alike hud b•< n subtracted from tiie most effec.ivo and ml able part <f it pojmla ion always, at yet. quit ■ inadequate. Cripples and invalids, mela' choly mementos of Ihe yet recent strug'l.'. abounded in <\. ry village and township; mid luil i: of industry had been hum tiled and ' destroyed by tho anxieties a id uncertainties of war.” .When th? first e nsuswa; taken in 170) the population of th' entire n-'ionwn.; less than mur nllli'ins That of the virthwi Territory, front which the States o' Olio. Indiana, llliimii. Michigan, and \\ iseotisin luim- since I■ en formed, va - so sie ". 1 1 t Lilt n> ret urns w ere 11 ale Thvpipiiln ion south of the Ohio lit er numb'retl 37.0 0 rhi!adil)4iiii. w1 ha population of 13.525. was tha largest city in the conn tlx. Thecotton crop of the same year ummmtisl to 2 si.iHO pound.-. In IStjJit o a hed 2.'Mn.uO(>.(>t»o pounds. Stages termed th" only mode of public convryauee for for.y-nin- yt ms a ht the iignin/ of the Bei'lma ion of Independence, w hen the Erie t'mial in New York wits completed. I'ho first niilroiul was buil- just half a century a ter the birth ■ f ',h >mi ion It was a rude ass iir. used t<>transpiirt ginm'e from the quarries of yuhicv, Mn s Comnii r e. like nil brunch's of indust y. was jus» strimiling tor a footln ti. In IT'.si the total exports from nil ports of the United M ites nmouLt d to but twenty million doDa s. and the ini) oris omewbn less Newspapers we o small, rude atTair- and few m numl«-r. Billing the colonial period liti rit uro gained no prominere.i except in the de|mtm nt of th ology ' Irving ■■ Works were th' ''t-i to mn',o \m"ii'-nn

HCNDREH AND thir to e n years I hnvo been a Ided : to the past since a eonfede; a 1 ion of struggling colonics d< dared t li o m s"lves free ami indepcndi nt StiVes ami demnndi d 11 place among tile kingdoms of the i 11: th. Api nrenth . I hey were illy able to enforce their . i ill pud en t d<■ mnnd. Fa <■. however. had d' -re< d !t ha ’ t b ifii it 'shcul 1 bi’ ■o m e \Ctbe beginning of ITS thirteen commies.separat d bv entst n th!

i literature popular abr< ad. In fact, the rial d. v-lopiivnt of Rcien-o an 1 ‘ art and the mu erial prog.' ns of the in ion j 1 have only begun within one bund cd yenr i. So । swift and fa.-reading lias th it developmi nt been that the mind can scarcely cottet ive ' f it. M lnther the next hundred years shows as gren j advancement di p. n Is upon whether the rpi ( it. I :of s "If-sii'ritieing patriot'sin that a-t ia id the ’ heroes and statesmen of the revolution is kept ; all ve or is j'ermi t <1 t । be overwhelm; d in gr el and selfishnessA FOURTH <>i- J(JLY PICNIC. BY MBS. M. E. BAX X'E.

pitch-boa’ll, and is g dug to find a )da e where our folks can have it nil lo tin msdves. ’ By this time the girls had come down. dr. ssed in xi hi te cross-bar red muslins, I > cause, ii > one o I them economically remarked, "YY hite will wash and colors run." Georg 3 Washington’s voice could still be hi aid

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FBIENDS AMI >’iuJ.ow- Four!h cf July oration citizens! i l one of 1110 <loc B l,ockets of the duster. r . r ... „ „ "File in," said Mr. Wea herly cheeifully, as he held the horse, that wouldn t have inn away at a dynamite explosion, not being tint., kind ol an animal ; “it's going t'> he leal l'<mth of. uly weather. I reckon Jim s tired wai.in , and thj rest of tiie folks’ll think we ain t a coinin . They idled in. George and the girls: on the backseat, while Mrs. Weatherly sat with fath-

er" and helped drive. George gave them a specimen of what he could do in the way of f orating, and they mvi * soon covered the fivef miles at the end ot which they were to find the picnic grounds. Jim,

the hired man, who this gai-obious day. | was a genius in his way, was to provide a code , of signals by which they would know where tho | general camping grounds were situa ed. I "This is the right turn. I’ll bet. n cookey . said Mr. Weatherby, reining in his carry all (

F NO ' t I

“I’m a goiu’ in, all the some,” said Mr. Wca’Ji- [

SKIRLS,” called Mrs. Wea’h- ■ erby, “your father is al the • door with the ca'Ty-all. Burry up. now. Where’s • George Washington?” ,4 “He’s lear i ig his piece, isU ma: he’s just been laying JS it over, and it's splendid. Isl He’s most ready.” fl “Will, we can’t wait, ’cause Jim hat gone on ■ w ith lhe provisions for tho whole lot.; he's taken tho ■ croquet set. and the bran

up-stairs reciting tho patiiotic speech which was to delight the souls of the Pumrkimnlle folks at the picnic. His mother waited as long as she could, then she called him in a voice that almitted of no further delay, and he came down stairs Ini' ited in plaid trousers and n long linen duster. thr< ugh which a pair of blue sus-penders--embroidered for him by Sadie Sunglittlo xvere } lainly ekiscernible. lie carried (tie manus cri p t of his

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’steed, “but what’s them j notices stuck up there? I I a’u't nevi r seen any of I them in those parts । . ' “I’ll bet Squire Ford put I them up to prevent folks j from coming here." said George; "if it ain’t mean of him."

orby. “There’s anotner. What’s that, girls» 1 can’t see quite clear.” “Oh, mercy,” cried t he girls in concert, “there’g a dog barking, .lust listen !” Sure enough, a deep, hi arse barking could bo

board far in on tho roa I they ha I turned on. “It's Squire Ford's whi’o bull dog, 11l be;,” said George. “I wish I lull my rifle; I’d pepper him.” “Here’s the tnuglitt! , team,” sail Pot Weath erby; ‘ and there's fnli<'( and Ihe rest,. Oh, girls, we re lost. Wo dartn tgo up this real. Isn't i u a

shame?” jiewabf., the doo. “Bow’-wow-ow-w,” < amo in deep chest tones from tho green lgln,do up the leafy retreat, and Mrs. Weatherby at oncn seized tho reins and began to turn old Sorrel around "I g,in’t agoin to furnish meat fn- 'Squira Ford's dog." sho said, and tho others seemed quite as willing to go. Another ) arty was waiting for them on the main real, and there they look counsel and decide.! that Jim must bo some mil's furlher on. where anothtr campus was known to be among Iho trees. So they rode

three miles further look- ( ing tor Jim. But no Jim b was to b? seen. They \ found the large grass plat, #1 and ) ick< t ed their horses I: about ih > inclosure, hopfl ing that since they could if not come to Jim that Jim f), xvotil 1 come to them. It f X' as rather a serious mat- • ter, for tho six families w h<> had now joined them bad sent their provisions over to thi' Weatherby’s for safe transportation

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— J'H runu I I iblinpui LUivll'll by Jim, who halt ho commissary stores for tho du'. No onndoubted the integrity of ,Jim, but i all wondered without mail what had become of him and the lemoua le and the j ies and cakes and subst initials. "Mr. George Weatherby, speech, spo ch,’’ called Dia on Snuglittle. "You have taken me by surprise. Deacon," said Georg > in an off-hand manner, feeling for his speech in his c< a" tail pocket. Then ho took out his pa riotic a Idress and ran his eyes over it. whil ‘the girls giggled and Sadie Snuglittle whispirod. “Isn’t he grand?” George wai soon omlinrked on tho full tide of eloquence and was ireqimntly interrupted by ehe< rs. \X hen lie Lmdlx demauded, “Who gave us the Fourth of July?” there was a perfect thunder of nnplanse. ■ Answer the: queshioii,’’ said Deacon Snug--1 ill l . rising to his feet and pointing a long lean forefinger a r five er six small boys who were grouped < n the grass open mouthed and openeyed. There was a hr g silence, then a small voice piped : “God.” 1 TI nr}- day," calle l another. " I .inkuni.” ‘•Georg? Washington.” I In " > eh iers and a s avo of th" “Sta '-spangled Bit ,1 ner ‘

The ora or was very warm and much flushed. . He took up his interrupti ed theme and when lie . iea 'hed ihe peroration, “the bird of freidom ml S'nrs a'loxo in the cm- D pyre an of the new world 1 a' <1 proudly ”h•fi ll 3 ■ over backward out of the 1 ! wagon seat, and turmxl n 'mn rsuult not. down on the progiumme. The

’ ll I 111 I f ’ I ll I1 l I I . ' ■ 11 is tri aehcr'its wagon-scat ou>BAY . did you see)

I ha I slipped and unbased him. But the cheers ’ he received xvere a strive to his wounded pride ' and burked shins, and the rpeech was voted a great success. Then a small boy was dragged forward and desired to recite something patriotic and couldn t think of anything for some time. Then, while nil eyes were upon him, he . scraped a foot, ma lea lurch forward, and, conscious of the maternal presence, began :

" Whatisthisgloriousflaglsco 11 isthetlagotliberty Its hues ailw rirmandbrightly blue Itisthel n'merofthetri e Andonthisdaywecelebrate—w ecelebrate — wecelcbi a“e " Fortunately for that boy there was an interruption which almost amounted to a panic. Jim came galloping into tie campus on the farm

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the day me CELi-horse. gasping, “Wha—wha—bua’ie. wha!” “Are the Indians coming?” shrieked Mrs. Wcatherbv. “B-b-be calm !” suggested the Deacon ; “sp-cak —out—man!" “Wha-what did you come here fur?” gasped ; Jim. when he got his breath ; “didn’t ye see all them signs I male to show ye where I wuz. THE FOUBTH OF JULY OBATOR. Didn’t I bark like a dog for one straight hour? I just think it’s all-tired moan to treat a fellow hire thet an’the tables all sot w ith the vittles, When it dawned upon them w hat Jim meant they set up a shout that could have been heard ' for a mile and began to . /

get their things in order j for an exodus from their j present quarters. They : followed Jim back and | found the green glade laid | out like a park, with a vast i dining-hall in tho center. : The simple fellow had : never once thought that his j “signs” w hicb he ha l got ten

1 ul , Midi so much <w ixnWKXnBWB PAY. ■ might cause a stampede. As it Mas they had a । glorious Fourth. I Even the ho ivenly bod os' ar© not above suspicion. Saturn lias a ring and can't get rid of it.—Pittsburgh Chronicle-Tele-I graph.

NUMBER 1

THE SUNDAylchoql. ( AN INTERESTING AND INSTRUCTIVE LESSON CONSIDERED. Reflections of „„ Elevating CharacterM holesome Food for Thought - Studying the Scriptural Lossons Intelligently and Profitably. y foX’nT^o^ Lesson 1 The Triumphal Entry. Mark 11. Ml. Memorize 8-10. Golden TextRejoice gioitly, 0 daughter of Zi'om shout, O daughter of Jerusalem- 10l thy king cometh unto thee.” Zech 9-<1 d Lesaon2. 'lhe Rejected Son, Markl2-i’-12 hu7>wn Z and B ’hU Old '‘ n T ° Xt: “ Ho cam « John 1-1? d 1 ° Wn roceived him not’ ’ M^'i’' 1 Vd T m° Gre ? t C^'nandments. Mark 12. 2.8-31. Memorize 3J-31. Golden Rom.' 13^ w” 1S th6 fullllling of the Lesson 4. Destruction of the Temnle CmdenT Memorize T 2! Golden Text. But I say unto you. that in ' 1 l’ 1 "™ 18 ° n ° Brcator tho temple." Bl utt. 12: 6. LESSON PARAGRAPHS. . As concerniug therefore the eating. What does religion have to do with so indiffe ent . t ‘ ls Need wo concern ourselves tibout meat and drink? No, certainly , not, if we arc going to stand still. Neither does that engine standing on Ihe sidetrack concern itself about water for tho . I oiler or the right sort of fuel for tho furnaces. But if it .were about to go somewhere, or thinking ol pulling something up tho grade, it would have a regard for sufh things. Are any of us on the side-track? op know that an idiot is nothing. Y r os, wo a very groat deal. There is no trouble about the knowing. 'lhe fact is, some of us know too much. We know, for instan le ■ that there is no intrinsic vilon-ss in ca ds! • ; Os course not; they are made of paper pulp just like tracts, you see. Too bad that after awhile the outside, of them should get to looking and smelling so bad. Can it bo the associations? We know, too, that tho 0 is nothing wrong in the dance, in itself. David danced, you remember, before the ark of the Lord, singing Psalms. But there! It must have been something else than the mo Jem mixed dance. Who would ever 1 think of the ark of the J.ord or of psalm--1 singing in a ball-room? And do we not ! know also that there is no evil necessarily in a glass of wine? Especially if, as Kate | Field urges, it be strictly pure. Tlicte is nothing bad about it “per se.” But then, as , Col. Bainf observes, when you put it along side of a man with a strong appetit > for , drink it is no longer simply “per se." Perdition rather. Hut to us there is but one Gori. Is it so? Then why are some so inclined to make a god of their belly? Tho trouble with this knowledge of ours is that it concerns its If too much with the things t niporal and sensual. Do we know God? Rather, do wo , know tho "one Lord Jesus Christ?” Take 1 your Bibles and read the opening verses of I t his chapter—why omitted?—“Now as touch- ; ing things offered unto idols, we know that wo all have knowledge. Knowledge ouffeth ! up, but charity (love) edifbth.” That is, knowledge sirelleth. up. but love buildeth ns up; and so Paul would much rather sec love than soo knowledge. “And if any man think that ho knoweth anything, lie knowetli nothing yet as he ought to know. But if any man love God, the same is knoxvn of him.” Better to know little and iovo much. I only that we are known of God, rather than I to think to knoxv much of earth and miss tho communion and love of heaven. It is tho blessed thirteenth chapter anticipated. "Covet earnestly the best gifts: and yet show I unto you a more excellent xvay." Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels — and though I have — all knowledge — and have not charity, I am nothing, which is to be interpreted, good for nothing. Meat commendeth us not to God. Otherwise some of us would be in great, honor with God. for we live for the meat that perisheth. It is love and self-confidence that makes us commendable to God, for Jesus’ sake: that is prettj- strong language used at tho close of the last paragraph. But take a little comparison of passages. Your New Testament lexicon will tell you that tho same word (ouden) is used in two other familiar verses of Scripture. They a-e in place. Look at them. “If,” (says Christ. John 8: 54) “I honor myself my honor is nothing" (amounts to nothing). “Tako and purify thyself" (said the brethren at Jerusalem to Paul, Acts 21: 24), “an I all may know that those things, whereof they were informed concerning thee, are nothing" (nave nothing in them). And so we say he that has not love and knows not how to sacrifice is not only not commendable to God, but "he is nothing”—in the kingdom of grace and goodness he “amounts to nothing in tho ministry of life, God finds nothing in him; in a xvo“d, as a worker for the Divine Master he is *good lor nothing.” Ho may । bo saved, though as by lire, but fas works 3 they do not follow him; "for meat commend--1 oth us not to God.” 1 Take heed lest by any weans this liberty of " yours, o this liberty of ours, how proud , we are of it. And yet, like knowledge, if j unguarded by "love,” it will lead us sadly away from the spirit of Christ. Mrs. Abbie 3 C. Morrow, of Minneapolis, has so whole- ! some a message for some of us here that - ! we will let her speak in her own langu me. Take heed. Christian voter, lest by any means this l.berty of yours, to vote for any ' ! candidate you please, become a stumbhngI block to the weak. Take heed to the tear h- , 1 ing in the following parable: A faimer j found a rattlesnake, carried it homo and i called his neighbors together,saying. J1 eI hold, I have captured a snake and it is bi„ 1 and strong; now. what shall Ido x th it. - Then ono of the men said: Dns is .1 harmless-looking reptile. I think lie • bel allowed to go wherever ho pk^ 8 - ! more J/mf aU m<gde. and especially young This counsel seemed to impr^, e assembly favorably. Then a third sped kcr “Since tho bite cf this rep.fie. s so wry dangert u;, I submit that it night bo u H to ma re, certa n regulations, a-, lot n stance, that, he is not to go i . lb . r *’ a ^ ll ®" to day; and that, ho must- U ^he sting anybody who is not of < ™ . shall not be let out from lus .^ * lt d ^ Il C.™ lo I ««s '““'I “j" ™!,l will, ono so moved with !“ let it 1 e ," and voice tlioy cried out. thousands the snake still fiv s ami m tnj thousands are annually bite 1 and di. -.-. font t, , , rhrist died. This the potent tor tthom t/urf . love oc cause and for all 01m e . owlh of tho lubly -onneeted uith b ot n (h 0 brotho l k ngdom of b rls l’ ‘ to b o more and and tho gambling hou /..,.<)> -isthe prinmoro forbid lena place ° n . ci ph sos Christ find s« a j t h e Christian. > Thore is but one l’ o ^'®’ I .^ brethren- and , “When ye sin ’ VhH^t we love thoo too wellto Christ. Ah, Christ, xx n nd so we will ; knowingly sin aga bl -o'tho r “for whom । not sin against tac uc an irit of Christ I Christ died.” bo able at grows in the chureh j de . d o f ' last, as one if meat makes ' Christian hvnig: ''> ci« .o ]]o my 1 rot her to ollen ,']„ s t 1 make my while the world stam- ! - j how muc h brother to offend CM jUn o „ r of a response has uitiu ' own lives? Os bitterest ag<ny, To rescuethee from hell, I’ve borne it n ^ or ^ ^ r What hast tho < boinc fin met Next Lesson—“ Samuel Called of God. I Bam. 3: 1-14. . . — —

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