St. Joseph County Independent, Volume 16, Number 6, Walkerton, St. Joseph County, 2 August 1890 — Page 6

TUB WOFNH MAY BE UEALBU, BUT THE SCAB Wild, REMAIN. BY FIUNCIN H. SMITH Oh, ye who from crim© mid pollution are free, Watch well the temp mums that throng around thee I -A character tarnished ne'er loses the stain The wound may bo healed, but the Scar will remain. 'Tis true that the vilest forgiveness may oarn— The sorrowing lost to the fold may return ; But sad recollection will bring w it h it pain— The w ound may be healed, but tlu» scar w ill remain. The misty bloom brushed from the cheek of the plum No more to its delicate surface can come ; And the pure heart polluted ne'er freshens again— The wound may bo healed, but the scar will remain. The slave of vile appetites, touched by remorse, Muy weep o’er his follies and alter his course; But still on life's tablet his record is plain The wound may be healed, but the scar will remain. Then shun ye the tempter, and seek ye the goal Which promises peace to the world-weary soul. If ye sin ye will strive to forget it in vain— The wound may be healed, but the scar will remain. *-Xew York Weekly. EMILY BAKER. A Leaf from a Detective’s Diary. On the night of January 10, 18 , the Clifton Bank was entered by burglars, who made good their escape with $30,000 in their possession. As soon as the robbery became known I repaired to the bank and sought the President, to whom I presented my credentials and made known my intentions of commencing work at once. The old gentleman readily acquiesced, and together we passed into the main office, where several spruce-looking young men were scratching away as unconcernedly as if, they had not been engaged in an animated discussion of the robbery only a ' minute before. I glanced nt them ■ sharply, but saw nothing suspicious in i their looks, and concluded it would be u waste of time to question them. I examined the lock of the door opening upon the street, and found it had not been tampered with, although the first arrival had found the door ajar. I next turned my attention to a door opening upon the rear, and found it securely locked, in which condition it had been, so the President assured mo, since the night before. “ Who has charge of the key of this door?” I inquired. “Mr. N , the cashier, has one, and our janitor the other.” “Can either of the gentlemen bo summoned?” “Yes, both if needs be. Here, Warren, run around to Mr. N.’s and tell him that I wish to see him immediately.” The clerk addressed was about to obey, when a sudden thought struck me, and I culled him back. “You need not trouble Mr. N ; but if the janitor can be found ask him Co step down for a minute or two.” In less than two minutes the clerk returned with . the janitor a broadshouldered Irishman, whose answers to my questions were given in such a I straightforward manner that lat once i exonerated him from all blame. “You lock upatter the clerks have all <one home, do you?” 1 inquired, looking the man in the eyes. “Yes, sometimes I doos, an’ sometimes ' 1 d> esn’t,” was the laconic reply. “When do you not?” “When Mr. N — worruks late o’i nights’ us it Las been the much o’lute.” “Did you lockup last night?” “Yis sur, wats more, I tried every I dure afterward. ” “At what time did you lock that ! door?” and I pointed to the front entrance. “Well, as near as I can recollect, about half-past siven.” “Are yon sure you shot the bolt into the socket ?” I “Ay! I could swear that I locked that dure an’ left it locked." “How about the windows—did you fasten them as well?” “~Yis, every wan ov them.” “Very good, sir; you mav go now, if you like,” and I turned to the President. , “Now then, Mr. J , with your permission, we will examine matters below stairs.” The old gentleman conducted me to the vault below. The heavy iron door of the large vault in which the ban l funds were stored, stood wide open, affording a view of the interior, which ■ presented a scene of confusion not un- ■ familiar to my eyes. Books and papers lay on the floor in every direction, ■where they had been thrown after gratifying the curiosity of the burglars. I stooped to pick up a crumpled document that lay at my feet, and as I did bo, the sparkle of a gem heretofore concealed by the paper, caught my eyes. ] With a quick motion of the hand I picked the stone from the floor, and held it concealed in the palm of my hand, while 1 perused the document, more for the purpose of concealing the exultation 1 ielt at having gained so important a clue, than for any other rea- [ eon. Having glanced at several other papers similar to the one I had first picked up, I began a thorough search of the vault, which proved fruitless; but the diamond in my possession was sufficient on which to weave a network of circumstantial evidence. Having no further business at the bank I took my departure, and went direct to a celebrated jeweler’s establishment in Somers street. The proprietor of the store knew me, and intuitively guessing my business, conducted me to ; his private office. “Well, Tracy, what’s up?” he i quired, when we had become seated. “Nothing unusual,” J replied. “You । have heard of the Clifton bank rob- ; bery, I presume.” "The Clifton bank? Ah' yes T did hear some one remarking about it. There was no account of it in the morning papers.” ’ “No, I believe not. The affair was not discovered in time for the reporters to get bold of it. Mell, sir, the bank ; has been robbed to the tune ■ f $30,000, j and I am engaged on the ease. " “Hum! indeed! Hope you’ll catch i the rascal, old boy. A dreadful state | of things exist in a small city like this," ■

and the little man twisted uneasily in his chair. “Not so bad as you may imagine. Be calm, my friend; the parties that robbed l the Clifton bank will not be likely to pay you .a visit.” “Ah! I hope your surmises are correct, but pray tell me your reasons for thinking as you do.” “Certainly. In the first place the ■ bank robbery is the work of one man, i and he is not a professional burglar, iln the second place, that man cares ' | more for greenbacks than he does for । gold ornaments, and would not plunder I your place for all there is in it. In । fact, this very same party owned a diamond, but threw it away rather than carry it with him. It is very pretty, is it not ?” And I hold up the stone to him. The jeweler took it, examined it closely, and returned it to me, with the remark: “It is, as yon say, a very pretty st me, and, I might add. very valuable for a gem of its size. That is your clue, I presume?” “Yes; the only clue 1 happen to possess. Now, then, lam anxious to find the ring to which this stone belongs, and you will please allow me to seo the rings that have been left here for resetting since the robbery.” “With pleasure. Excuse .ie one moment.” And my friend disappeared, returning a minute later, with a number of rings, on a tray, which he placed on a table, and began to examine the labels attached to them. “Some of these rings have been in our possession a number of days. Ah! here is one received this morning. ‘January 12th—diamond setting—E. Baker.’ ” And he read the inscription. I took the ring from his hand and । examined it. It was a finely chased i ring of virgin gold, with the stone miss- । ing. I fitted the diamond in the set- | ting, and passed it to my friend. “By Jove, Tracy, that is the very ring you are in search of! Now let mo see.” And he went nearer the light. “Yes, there can be no doubt about it. The stone tits into the setting nicely, and. now that 1 think of it, it is of the same size and quality ordered.” “What name did you say the party gave?” “Baker Emily Baker.” “Emily Baker! Then it was a lady ?" “I presume so; at all events, she looked and acted like one.” hen is she to call for the ring?” “ io-morrow afternoon.” “I must see her when she calls, and ( in order that 1 may play my cards to | better advantage. I shall enteryour serv- ; ice as a clerk. What do yen say ?” "I am perfectly willing, but take care | what you do, old boy; there may pos- ! sibly be some mistake.” “That is very true, and if such should ' be the case you may rest assured that I ’ shall discover it in time. Did 1 under- i stand you to say that you had promised ■ to have the ring ready to-morrow after- | noon ?” “No, sir; I said nothing of the kind. i She said she would call for it to-morrow 1 afternoon, and 1 simply nodded as- ! sent.” "Thon lay this ring aside and leave i the rest to me. I shall call again to- ■ morrow: until then adieu!" And I passed into the street. 1 had thus far met with better success than I had anticipated, and was nowise elated or thrown off my guard, i for I knew that 1 bad a sharper to deal । with, whom it would be a difficult matter to outwit. “During tin* day I visited several places where "ye game of faro” was in full blast, and picked several items of interest, all of which tended to convince me that 1 was on the right scent. Early next morning 1 repaired * ~ friend’s establishment, and was assigned to a position behind the counter, where, it is needless to say, I felt ill at ease; but years of training and patient study had enabled me to act almost any role to perfection, and it was not j long before the feeling of uneasiness , wore off. The day' dragged slowly along, for | trade was not very brisk, and the sales- , men had but little to do besides reading the papers and yawning at each , other across the cases. Four o’clock 1 Would the owner of the ring ever come? I asked myself the question a hundred times, and was the point of doing so again, when the wur slowly opened and a heavily veiled figure glided in, approached the conn- j ter, and inquired, in a somewhat hesi- j fating voice: *-] s Mr. in?” “No, Madam, he is not,” I replied. ! “Can I do anything for you?" “I dare say you can. I left a ring in i charge of Mr.-- , for a diamond setting, which was to be ready this afternoon. You will please let me have it, together with the bill.” “What name?” I inquired, bringing I out the tray containing the articles left ; for repairs. “Emily Baker.” “Emily Baker,” I mused, picking up several rings and examining them. “It does not appear to be among these. Ah! I recollect what has become of it," and I replaced the tray, and took from । the glass case a small box, removed the lid and exposed the ring to view. “Is that your ring, madam?” “It is. Why has it not been attended to?” “Simply because the original stone has been recovered, and presuming that you would prefer that to any other, we have waited until we could hear from you.” “The original has been recovered! 1 do not understand you,” and her voice mded strangely masculine. “Pray -j.i me where it was found.” "Certainly. It was found where you lost it—in the vault of the Clifton bank !” and I reached across the counter, i and with the quickness of thought tore the vail from the face of no less a personage than the cashier of the Clifton bank! He saw that it was all up with him, ami quietly submitted to the handcuffing process, but when I took him before the chief he broke down and I begged piteously to lie let off for the । sake of his wife and child. i When on trial, he confessed that he i had stolen the bank's funds to liquidate

i gambling debts, and having missed the stone of his ring a short time after the > robbery, and fearing that it might lead I to his detection, had attempted to have I it replaced as we have shown. A Shopping liicUient, She was a busy woman, getting ready to go away for the summer, and time , was precious, but she must buy before she went, a pair of new corsets, “P. D., size 22.” She stepped into a large dry , goods establishment on Washington street, and went to the corset counter. The ladies who were there to sell corsets were all busy, bin finally one concluded to stop gossiping long enough to ask what she wanted. “A pair of corsets, please, P. D., size 22,” humbly answered the little woman, glad at last that her presence luul become known. The saleslady.languidly turned over the stock in intervals of her continued gossip,, and at last produced aP. 1). pair. “Yes, but that’s size 23.” “Well, we haven’t got any 22 down here. Here, boy, go upstairs and get some P. D, corsets, sizes 21, 22 and 23, several of each." The busy woman, after waiting for the boy until she nearly fell off the stool through weariness, wont over to the bustle counter, the shirt counter and the sack counter to while the time away, and by and by returned to the corset, counter. “Has the boy come back yet?” “No, ho has not.” “When is ho likely to return?” (meekly.) “When ho is readv,” (toplofticully.) The afternoon wore away. The boy at last returns with four pair of corsets which he deposited on the counter, remarking that there was not any size 22 . upstairs, and the saleslady looked at I the busy woman with aglance in which triumph was strangely mingled with indifference. "Oh,” gasped the would be customer, I "how 1 wish 1 had known that a half an hour ago. 1 need not then have wasted all this time.” Slowly, oh, so slowly, the dignified saleslady turned to the counter, opened a box and disclosed a "P. Isize 22.” “Why, did the boy bring that?” “No.” "Did you have it here all the time?” “Yes.” "But why did you not give it to me when you knew 1 was in such a hurry ?” "We don't serve our customers with ’ . electricity,' remarked the saleslady as. । with a crushing manner and aspect and I tone sheturned away. She condescended. i I however, after a whilm to come’ j back and deliver the package and the I change, after which sho resumed her I sadly interrupted gossip, while the busy ; woman made rapid transit out of the | store. Boston Ib rahl. 1 hllll<ll-r-St<)lH>S. In 1723 Jussieu addressed the French ' Academy on the "Origin and I -es oi Thunder-Stones." He showed that re I cent travelers from various parts of the I world had brought a number of weapons ■ and other implements of stone t<> j France, and that they were essentially I similar to what in Europe hud been ' i known as "thunder-stones;" a year later ; this fact was clinched into the seientitic mind of France by the Jesuit Latitnu who published a work showing tin similarity between the customs <u ' aborigines then existing in other hinds land those of the early inhabitants oi Europe. So began, in these works i Jussieu and Latitau, the aeieueo of coin- I punitive ethnography. In 1730 Mahmlel presented a paper to the French Aciulemy of Inscriptions on the .so-called "thunder-stones," and also presented a series of plates which showed that these were stone imple numts, which must have been used at un early period in human history. In 177 K Bnffon* in his Epoques de la Nature, intimated his belief that "thun-der-stones” were made bv early races of | men; but he did not press this view, । and thd reason for his reserve wa.- j obvious enough: He had already om. ' quarrel with the theologians on his I ; hands, which had cost him dear pub : ■lie retraction and humiliation; his declaration, therefore, attracted no i notice.-— Popular X- iem-e Moutloy. i x< iitshiu <»! n The following history of the travois a draft is from a pamphlet issued by itie Waso (Tex.) State Bank: A firm doing business in Louisville, i Ky.. made a draft on a firm in BalI linger, Tex. The Eouisville firm de | posited it for collection with its bank, j they, having a correspondent in St. | Louis who took their items at par, sent ।it there. St. Louis, having the same facilities in Kansas City, sent it there. Kansas City, enjoying the blessing of having a correspondent in Galveston willing to work for nothing, sent it : there. Galveston, having considerable । business with Dallas, where most of the I banks enjoy the same privilege, sent it there. Dallas sends to Mexia, Alexia । sends to M aco, AVnco sends to Temple, and Temple to Ballinger. Think of it—what a delightful trie! But it arrives after maturity. The firm failed. Draft protested; $8 protest fees; eight banks out postage, stationary, time and labor. To Make Ice-Water Last. A useful attribute of paper not generally known is for preserving ice in a pitcher of water. Fill the pitcher with ice and water, and set it on the center of a piece of paper; then gather the paper up together at the top and place the ends tightly together, placing a strong rubber band around the coil to hold it close, so as to exclude the air. A pitcher of ice-water treated in this manner lias been known to stand over night with scarcely a perceptible melting of the ice.— liehoboth Bunday Herald. > . — I he Young 1 dea. Fannie’s mamma is a great hand to borrow of her next door neighbor. One day Fannie went into the neighbor’s for a visit, but found them all ready to go away to stay a week. “Is ’oo all doin’ at once?” “Yes, baby and all.” “Why,” she said, in an aggrieved tone, “how tan oo’? My mamma will want to bor’ ’tings,”— Delroil Free j Press. I

Jr BOSIB, LILIES. AND ETAA3 BY KIL COUBII.AND. Red rose, why do you pout? Ah, I have found you out ; You droop, for a lover hold Ilan grown ho cold ho cold. Ulh heart han been olfored and sold For gold, sweet rone, for gold. Lilies, why do you High Under t he jaHper nky ? You think of the hazy high lands Hloi ning beneath broad sky lands, Os the gleam of silver rye lauds And poppies aflame in the rye lands. Why, bright utara, are you gleaming Now while the earth is dreaming'. l Will you lend your ]H>arl-tinpud light To the souls who pass to-night, Ah they drift away from our mortal sight Up to the Throue-Hteps, pure and white ? Columbia, 8. C. JANET LEE In the Shadow of the Gallows, BY DAVID LOWRY. ('HAri’Elt \ A'll <\»it 11iiuoiL Fate for once seemed kind to drizzle Meade. Even as sho spoke, her husband, looking out of the door after Giles Ellis, saw Indian Joe walking along tlm road. It was plain the lame Indian was under the mlluenve of liquor. “I see Ju-ee-mo now. Ha has had overmuch rum, aud ho is going the wrong way. Ho should be going into, not out of Salem." “Indian Joo! The very num, above all others! Cull him iu!" said Grizzle Mo ide. hy should 1 call tho drunken v igaboml into my house to pour rum down his gullet for nothing?” demanded Dan- . ml Maude, testily. "Do as 1 bid you. Call him in." The landlord, very much agdnst his will, called -lu ।o mo into the inn. The Indian staggered against the door, then i looked stupidly nt the landlord. Grizzl < Meade placed n seat, and the Indian staggei >d into it. It was Grizzle Momlo who pome I out the rum he druiiK It was Giizzle Meade who stood over him and asked how the world fared with him. “World r.U bad. Everybody going to tho devil. Not ,ln-i. mo. Lots ol witches lots of witches and devils in Salem. I see them the devils, .lu-oe i mo Heo two-legged deuls; yo:t s- e them i every day." “Do you see any lazy devils, .im The Indian looked up with drunken gr ivity nt 1 > mu I Me ,do "1 seo hmdlor I of Globe Inn." I he landlord frowne I and turn< d iway, bu Gnz la Moa o inuche I. "Ave your eyesight is ,n> ’d. Joe “Nothing wrong with Ju ci -mo's eyes 1 see Martin Loe ent throat Winsloa •< sheep. 1 see "1 don'' believe it!” exclaimed tho landI lord. “What sort of am m was he ” “Peace, Daniel, l’av no ntt ntion to him, Joe. lon did see some one kill tho sheep?" "Ju-eo nio saw t»! yea; saw him kill horse. Big knife / i ip! So." The Indian made a quick movement across Ins throat, utieimg a sound m mutation of th d which a knife makes in i cntttiut a pieen of cloth, “We know tlm sheep were killed and the horse. But everybody does not know what you and I know. Joe, I know who kl 1 ed the hoep, but. like VOtl, I keep mv own council lis well to siv Martin La ■ did It Joe." The Indian looked at Grizzle Meade in hcror Ho attempffii! to rise, but Grizzle pushed him back into his >,d. He looked nt the door, but the e was no r< - livf near. Grizzle Meade -- bln k eyes meanwhile Hoeim d to burn x*ith In Men tiro, I here wan n look m her f - o which the Indian ha I never beheld there, m she said, sternly "Tell to others tint Martin Leo killed Winslow s sheep, but confess to me you saw Giles Ellis do it, H< put this tine story in your mouth Again tho Ind an trie 1 to rise, mid again Grizzle Me id. held him down tn hm seat. 'Do not fear. 1 will never tell it. It does not suit me. But neither does it huh me to let yon go past mv door without toiling you that 1 know who k lied the sheep. You never saw Mirtm Lee. Were he hero now you would not know him. Come, is it not so. ” Impelled by the mere force of her will, the Indian nusvvered and told the truth. “.Iu ee-mo did not see M utin Leo. Never seo Martin l.vc. Now 1 go." "No, no! von dul see Gilts Ellis do it. Tell me tell me mid my husband here how he killed the sheep, and vvhera yon wore when he did it." Iho Indian looked hopelessly nt tho door again. There was no one in sight, no sign of relief. 11 straightened himself ip Ins seat, mid looking nt Grizzle and the landlord alternately, sui 1: “1 tell t nth. You tell I tell truth. Giles he kill ns kill nil us. He kill me 1 if I not tell Martin Lee kill sheep. I come long bv Winslow’s. See Giles i I.Uis. Wonder what he do. Jn-ee-mo hide behind Liir stone. See Giles Ellis go in held. Catch sheep, l ake out big ; knife. Cut their throats so." Again Joe made the sound of a knife : cutting cloth “He kill horse. Cut hor-e all through. Brave man, Giles Eliis. He see me. Hold knife so.” Joe described tho manner in which the : knife was pressed against hie throat. Daniel Me ide suddenly staggered back, i and, going to a cask, drew and drank off a large draught of rum. Then he walked j out of the inn. “And you swore never to tell,” Grizzle j shid grimly. “Ju-ee-mo swore." “Well, you have not told. I told you. i Was it not me told you Giles Ebis killed i the sheep? I only asked you how he did ; it. Have no fear of Giles Ellis. Rather | fear me and keep the secret well. Say j to all it was Martin Lee." “I tell all the same." "Aye, and see you do not vary a hair in your story. But. fear me rather than Giles Ellis, for when I ask you to tell the truth, and you do not tell it was Gilqs i Ellis, it will go hard with you. Fear me, ■ I say.” The Indian looked at her wicked eyes, fixed upon him sternly, as though she would search his very soul, with fear and dread of her auger. He rose to his feet. Grizzle gave him another draw of rum, took him by the shoulder, turned his face toward Salem, and bade him begone. Already her customers were iu view. The inn would soon bo filled with men eager to discuss the extraordinary occuronces of the past week. Indian Joe had revealed all he knew, and his place was worth ten times more than his presence now. “Now, then, Giles Ellis,” said Grizzle I Meade, as the Indian staggered back to

Saloi", *w- arc aven Thu same rope that hangs me will h«ug you." < IIAI’TEK XYIIL INDIAN JOE'S AWFUL EX PEKI EN< 'E, Although Indian Joe’s face was towards Salem, and his toes pointing in the right direction, he was not sura he was right. The memory of the throat Grizzle Meade’s words implied, end her shiuing black, bead-like eyos, added to the rum he had imbibed, pioved too much for Jou’s brain. He scarcely knew where lie was. He staggered on in u stupid, aimless way, encountering here and there u passer-by on tho road, and sometimes he accosted trees and stumps. Ihen he fell prone upon the ground. It was dark when he woke up. He scrambled over the ground with his hands and feet, and then stood upright and endeavored to recall the events of the past night. Now he remembered his meeting with Giles Ellis. He remembered how Giles had spurred him into a recital of the scene he hud witnessed, mid reminded him the crime was to bo laid on Martin Lee. He tried to recall the number of ; times he had been given rum, then slowly ho recalled all tho circumstances attending his lust visit to Globe Inn. Where was he now? As he looked, something approached him a monster with a great, glowing eye. It seemed to Indian Joe’s eyes to be as large us a cow larger. Ju-ee-mo rubbed his eyes, and looked again. Yes, the animal was there, moving about slowly, with curious, swaying steps. The one eye it had but one was fixed full on Indian Joe. He could not avoid it. Now that he observed the monster closely, it had half a dozen of legs. It would be useless to attempt to escape it, even if it were not looking at him with | its one great eye. -In ee-mo crouched upon the ground m terror. Still the e e moved, the creature’s legs move I, but it came no nearer. Indian Jo<- listened; he placed his hand to his cur, and craned his neck forward in the darkness. There was a curious sound. Wa. it the monster's teeth? The thought inada the Indian's ho. t throb. A deadly fear overcame him. Ku L „ sound us that mortal hud never hea.d until now. All the witeh stories Indian Joe had listened to in the pas' month wer<F recalled. All the hobgoblins and devils invented by the uo-sips of Salem passed before his diso derail brain in review. This monster w..s tho devil he had heard of. Indian Joe made a noise that was neither u cry nor a grunt, but a blending of both. Suddenly the glowing eye disappeared. Ihe monster was nowhere'to be seen. Indi in Joe rose slowly, cautiously, stood upri.ht. and looked about him. The cool night wind tanned his cheek. An insect whirling past stitn-k him full in the face, but the Indian had i o eye, no ear for anything but the monster that reappeared; th th id fixed Its eye on him again. Now he could see the monster's legs plainly. He counted them. Eight legs. 1 hey moved m th? strnngest way. Sometimes they were bunched together. Some- : tunes they seemed to be but a single leg. I hi n th- y ■'vpamtvd in twos and fours; 1 then they seemed to walk off in pairs. I he peispiriition ro led down Ju-ee mo’s fuco. He wiped his head with his hand, and looked again. I'he great glowing eye was waving; tho monster seenied to be shakmiz his head at him. Suddenly Jueo mo h mood changed. Ho laughed softly to himself The great glow ing eye was a lantern. It was swinging in a man's hand. Tho monster with eight lezs was four mon. Indian -Ine could see their outlines quite plainly now. lint what were they doing there, and where were they? i hev hail a spade and a pick. Ju-ee mo crept forward slowly on his hands and kmes. I’he lantern showed him tour mon pin nly, but he could not. distinguish them. Now one was down in the l owels of the earth. Indian Joe could wo tin others holding the lantern 1 near hiui; could see the man m tho earth stoop un i lUsuppear altogether. Was thm. then, the opening to tlmmfern 1 regions.'' Wore tin । men really men, or witches, such ua he hud hoard of? Now the man emerged from the bowels , of the earth and brought with him an- , otln r, clad in while, .1 u-ee-mo could see the otheis reaching down, grasping the tiijuio in white mid lifting it out of the e.rth, Ju-ee-mo moved nearer. He hi aid voices, his callosity led him to a point where he could see and hear. If tin so were really witches, wind n tale he would have for Sd< m to-morrow! lie was fascinated bv the sptcluele the men and the lantern and the cavity in the earth presented. He could not resist the j inclination to approach tho actors in this i -tiangt' scone. He moved nearer. His foot caught a twig, the twig snapped, and an instant later Ju-ee-mo wits stunned by n blow on the head. He was buffeted and kicked and lifted bodily from the groaind. A dozen hinds seemed to throw tiim up in the air and strike him tis he fell. A score of feet kicked । and pressed upon him. He was rolled over, crunched, an I left for dead. Wi en ho reLil ne I consciousness all was silent. The events of tho past hour ■ seemed a dream, but Indian -toe’s arm, | his head, and his b ck tol l him it was not nil a dream. He got up with difficulty, । looked about him in the dark, and seeing what he conceived was th© outline of a house near at hand, he walked slowly ; mid silently away. When he related tLi< strange experience to the people of balom, they shook i their heads, and some put their tongues m their cheeks. Indian Joo’s weakness was well known. Besides, he had been si en half drunk the day before. What : more natural than that he should dream he beheld these things? M hat would tho 1 men be doing digging in the ground? If it were the evil one, he did not need a lantern; everybody knew he could provide himself with as much light as he wanted to. And who would be Lent on such silly work ns digging holes in the earth? 1 So Indian Joe s story found few listeners, and no credence. One effect produced was unnoticed at the time. It weakened his narrative of j the killing of John AVinslow’s horse and : sheep. Even the gossips asked each other if a num who told such prodigious lies, and stuck to them, as Joe did to his, ; could be believed. CHATTER XIX. GILES ELLIS' MISCALCULATIONS. | When the strange story Indian Joe re- ! lated came to Giles Ell s' ears, that indii ’ idnal gave it immediate credence. It was polit eto du so. tie foresaw the effect it I would have upon his statements concernl ing the crime charged to Maltm l ee. He ■ was desirous of meeting his tool. If it i had been in his power to overtake him i and silence him for a time, he would have ' done it; but he did not deem it politic to i be seen in Joe’s company, | To eounteia‘t the ridicule Joe's story excited. Giles Ellis artfully manufaetur!ed a lie out of whole cloth. The manner । in which this was done, though ingeni ions, was as old as human craft and cun- . ning. He himself directed the convorsation to the story Joe had related, then proceeded in this wise: “It stems incredible, beyond belief, neighlots, but 1 have heard of things as strange, and not from the Indian, but from others- responsible men.” A remark like this in those days was

i ! sufflclcvl to inflame listcneis with enri-o-ity. Then Giles fenced skillfully. “(>, do not quote me in the matter. I only repeat what I heard. Did you not hear anything about the finding of Martin । Lee’s body?” r , Os course, the listeners knew nothing, ' I whereupon Giles proceeded in this wise; ( ! “AVell, ‘tis said-mind I’m only telling । what was told mo- 'tierafd Martin Lee’s [ body was found. That somebody dug it i up and moved it away to a h ifer place, i where it will never be given up till the \ son gives up its dead.” When tho curious naturally asked who [ I exhumed the remains, and when and , ; where they were observed, Giles was not i permitted to say more. He affected tho , 1 manner of a man who had already told . । too much. t So now tho gossips, forgetting the ridi- ! cule they had heaped upon Indian Joe, coolly repeated the story of the exhuming । of Martin Lee’s body, and related how ' they had been spirited away. Indian Joo j hii i witnessed their actions, but he could : not tell how many wore there, or their ! names. And then, too, he was black and blue with the beating he had received when discovered by those who had carried away all that was left of Martin Lee. It will not surprise tho reader when he is told that the last person to hoar this ’ story was tho one most interested in it. ; John Leo was profoundly ignorant of In- ■ dian Joe’s extraordinary story, and knew nothing of tho version Giles Ellis’ im- ' proved appendix furnished. Once more the public sentiment turned, and now ; numbers believed that Martin Lee’s remains had boon exhumed and secreted in some out-of-the-way place by somebody. But now the question arose—who helped John Lee? If there were four in the business, then John Lee had three good friends. Who were tho friends? : Immediately public opinion fixed on Arthur Proctor as one of the persons. John Loe was the moving spirit, of course. Possibly the other two were I familiars of the witches! It was such wretched suppositions as these tho people offered to support their opinion when tangible evidence was do- | manded. At a time when the chance remarks of mere children were twisted into proof deemed sufficient to hang women who, until tho people became crazed with the tear of witchcraft, wore considered respectable and worthy, it is not difficult to imagine the form the story took inside of twenty-four hours, when the Marshal of Salem encountered Giles Ellis. ’ Know ye aught of the story I hear of John Lee anil young Proctor?” 1 can answer both if you will tell mo what you have heard,” “Well, 1 have heard that John Lee, Arthur Proctor, and two others,” the Marshal emphasized tho words, “have dug up Martin Lee and thrown his body into the sen” Ah' I did not hear what disposition they imido of tho body. I heard the same.” “ ’ Tis said vou know more than vou care | to toll?" "I know no more than I hear others i say.” "You can at least toll mo who huw the body t" “1 do not know." “So, then, you will swear you saw nothing?" “That I can swear cheerfully." Yet spite of this positive assertion, Giles Ellis continued to bo quoted. Tho Marshal, who was in the performance of his duty, heard mueh that was contradictory and unworthy a moment’s consideration. He anticipated the result, bowever. Ho foresaw plainly he would bo ordered to apprehend John Lee aud Arthur Proctor- that they would cilb’d upon to answer the charge that t he\ had exhumed and tossed tho remains of Martin Lee into the sen. He desired above all things to confront Proctor and Leo with Giles Ellis, whom he now both disliked and dreaded. There was a coolness, a self-satisfied manner, a lofty bearing, that procl timed to the world Giles Elim pl iced a proper estimate on himself and all belonging to him. He was a man who asserted himself who quest ionod others, but resented anything like criticism on him or Ins motives. The world has improved somewhat since Giles Ellis lived, but his counterpart is to be found in every church, township and ward iu the country to-dav. The Marshal of Salem parted from Giles Elns with many misgivings of evil. In his secret soul Samuel Hobbs deemed Giles Ellis a consummate hypocrite. But ho dare not utter his thought. On the contrary, a whisper might work much mischief. His duties were sufficiently disagreeable now, but he had it in Ins power to soften misfortune to his friends, and chief among them, as we have seen, ho esteemed John Leo. |TO HE CONTINUED. | Mhy lie Was ( ailed Major. Among all those lawyers who made that heroic advance upon Nashville last spring, to try the famous natural ga^ Bond injunction, before Judge Jackson, none were more distingue in their appearance than Major Hamilton and Emery Potter. They rather eclipsed t'ne other legal luminaries, in fact, and threw them into the dense, dishearten- . ing umbra of totality in point of style. Down at the Tennessee capital they stopped at the best hotel, xvere mentioned in the local papers as prominent arrivals, had ice-water sent up to theii rooms, and revelled in all those rare and costly luxuries which are alone to lie obtained at our best and most fashionable liostelries. In' fact, the i Mayor and Mr. Potter were iu good . form in every respect. But they never spoke in court, and : were silent as a London barrister. Tc j all intents and purposes they were j merely lending a high tone to the To i ledo party, and investing it with an ail of eclat. 'l’he colored porter at their hotel after frequent tips, evinced a grea' i fondness for Mr. Potter. Every morning he awoke the distinguished Toledo attorney, and said: “Good mornin’. Majak, did you enjoy your sleep las’ night?” Mr. Potter replied that he had. “Yo’ll tin' yo’ shoes, Majah, al. shined up light by yo’ do’. Anything mo’ I cun do for you, Majah, dis morn in”?” , : Mr. Potter could not understand tin : j “Majah,” but said nothing for several i ] days, but it kept getting worse, thi 1 negro insisted on applying the military ' title to him, and finally Mr. Pottei , said: “Say, whv do you call me Major: . I’ve been called colonel, and general, . and captain, and judge, and every thing else, but I was never called Major before. Now 1 d like to know 1 ’ what makes you call me Major?” ••Well, you see, Majah, i’ ’s like dis. ' Du’in’ de wah we alius called dose ! gem’men Majah wha’ put on a pow fu! | lot o’ style, an’ never had nuthin’ tu 11 do.”— Toledo Blade.