St. Joseph County Independent, Volume 18, Number 18, Walkerton, St. Joseph County, 19 November 1892 — Page 7

iwomans Influence

"5^ ' wB, ' ^Lojlwgopi CHAPTER XXI V. pa-hel’s confsssio Brian at first was content to lie still «nd watch Margaret, but as he grew Stronger he would ask her to s'ng or talk to him, and then would sho tell him again and again of the bitter regret and remorse which had filled those three long miserable weeks. “How cruel I was,” he whispered. “I did not know what I was saying. I could never reproach you. You have done more for me than I can ever speak A of. Always my true, loyal wife. AlA ways making sacrifices for mo. It was ' | such a dear, tender heart that I longed 1 for just a tender spot in it." “A very proud heart," she con acted * gently. “Only sometimes. And ha lit been a * thousand times more proud I should for- « get it all in the joy of possessing it at J ia3t ” “You have possessed it all the time,” r she confessed, burying her face from his glance. “It has been yours since we were together at S^conset, Erian. I did not realize it myself, but now I know, and am glad of the suffering that taught me.” “Ah, darling, that I have been so blind. When you married me I thought ” “Yes, Brian, so did I think. My sense •of justice felt outraged by uncle Stephen’s will, and I persuaded myself that I was marrying you to make amends for that, and all the while my love for you was pleading so much more eloquently than my love of justice. I have ikept it back so long I wish you to know .all the truth now.” His eyes filled with an inexpressible joy, as he lovingly stroked her bowed bead. “Rachel has made her confession at last,” he said, softly, “and Jacob would willingly live over his sufferings again for the pleasure of hearing such sweet words. He is very happy now, for he feels that this is his true wedding day, <and his life lies before him.” August was nearly gone, and he was <oaly able to sit in his chair and allow her to wait upon him. They were together so one morning when a messenger arr.ved from The ■Cedars with a note for Margaret. She lead it hastily, and, with a radiant face and the words “I am so glad,” handed at to Brian. * 'YnoTher^ Bertie came somewhat .unexpectedly with the sun this mornfng. . Alice hopes you will pay your imgiedi--ute respects to his lord ship hfefirriE, Sn.” “Bertie is evidentlwfTthe fifth heaven of delight.” commented Brian. “Carry my congratulaU^ig, Margaret. I suppose you ar^fing.” Margare^jf course, fell in love with I the tiu^*bit of humanity, and fully i ■agreeityPh Alice that Cuthbert Barton junior was a very line-looking young n L a ^ She even fancied she discovered s 1 WKeness to Bertie, though not a parularly striking one, as she told Brian Xi terward. j* September cane in very cool and the JF invigorating air seemed to infuse new r life into Brian’s ve ns. “You will not be able to impose upon me much longer,” be said to Margaret, i one morning. “I’ll be strong enough to j rebel against your tyranny soon.” “As soon as you like, Brian,” she an- j ®wered, looking up from the roses she •had placed on the table beside him. "I think I’ve played nurse long enough. If you do not get well very soon you i will grow so fat and 1 izy that I’ll never I be able to get you out of that chair.” He looked up into the face, which drad never seemed more sweet and lovable. and catching her hand held it a prisoner within his own. “Never mind,” he said, “wait until 1 ■am out of this for good. Then I mean to take my dear little nurse in hand ; ■and make her fat and lazy, too. I ; •want to see some roses in her white I cheeks.” "I don’t think you will ever be able to i ■coax th?m there, Brian. It is not their element, but ti e nurse feels that sho ■desires some petting and codding; she has given you so much. What can the ■do tor you now’ Bea I?” “No, my dear; talk. I am a great .trial, am I not?” “Oh, yes, a dreadful trial,” she returned with a half smile. “But,” she ■added softly, ”1 could never do without any trial.” He caught her hand as she uttered the last words and drew her unresistingly do his knee. Then came a sharp and unexpected interruption, in Bertie’s voice: “Hello, there! I don’t want to disturb such interesting proceedings, but I would like to know how soon the public maybe admitted. Such civilities ——' “You are extremely impuhnt,” cried Margaret, starting to her feet with a 'brilliant blush. “If you do not learn ■-better manners I shall d.op your ac•quaintanee. ” “Please don’t, ma’am, I need your proteeton sadly. My respected father has ;ust sent me from his presence with a •parting injunction to visit a certain gentleman who is credited with warm quarters. I prefered coming here. And. by the way, Brian, I’ve been rommissio.ied to inform you that you have been indulging your laziness long •enough, and, therefore, you are expected to pay your respects at The Cedars to-night. “ ‘Tell Margaret to <ome ami bring her husband along,’ were the words of my ■venerable father. So, Margaret, please ■do as you are bid. ’ “I wish you could be more dignified, Bertie, lor a husband and a father you are sadly wanting in that quality.” For answer, Bertie laughed. “How are you. old fellow?” he asked, taking Brian’s hand. “Able to assert your authority? ’ “Not quite. I’ve just teen warning Margaret that the t me is not far dis-

tant when I shall assume the reins of government.” “Sho looks quite miserable over the prospect,” returned Bertie, with his eyes on Margaret’s laughing face. “I saw M ileon when I was in the city a day or two ago. He inquired very particularly about you, and Margaret also. 1 told him you were doing finely, and that Margaret was as unmanageable as ever. ” “1 shall be revenged for that, sir. Was Dr. Wilson we 1?” “I can’t say he looked very well,” answered Bertie, with some hesitation. “Ho works too hard, I think. He is certainly’ very pale and thin.” “Why not write and invite him here for awhile?” said Brian, turning to Margaret. “This air would infuse new life in his veins.” “He needs it certainly,” observed Bertie. “He has not seemed quite natural for some time. I’m afraid he is losing his old happy spirits.” “ \\ e will ask him to come,” said Margaret, quickly, “though I fear he cannot give us any’ of his valuable lime. When I think of what he has dore for you, Brian, I do feel so grateful to him, and I should like nothing so well as to find him such a true, gcodwifoas he deserves. ” “Margaret turned ma'ch-maker,” mused Bertie. “She b comes more interesting and original evJYy day. I will tell Wilson to get himself in readiness, and meantime, my dear, I hope you will search diligently’ for the particular woman destined to become his blessing and torment at the same time. Now I must be off. I suddenly remember that Alwe sent me for some mixture for that young hopeful of ours, and if I don’t hurry, he may’ bawl his head off.” “You outrageously unfeeling man. If I had known you were on any such errand, you «h-> n ldn t have staid here a secorn anat poor little innocent may be actually suffering for his medicine.” “No more than you, my dea”, ” laughed Bertie. “It is simply the Barton temper asserting itself. Even father recognizes it, and while he accepts retributive justice in a meek and lowly spirit, it sometimes gives way to a m Id ejacu'ation, inch as ‘thunder’ when Bertie grows particularly demonstrative. However, I’ll get the decoction and say good-by to you until to-night. ” A day’ or to later, Margaret sent to Dr. Mil on a warm and pressing invitation to speii I at least a few days at Elmwood. M ilson so nd the letter awaiting him when he r. ached his roo ns after a long day’s work, an 1, though his face brightened at the sight of it, he did not accept the tempting pleasure offered, and his regrete, not himself, found their way to Elmwood. The letter found a plac 1 in a corner o’ his desk, and it was still there when [ time had whitened his hair and his eyes were dim from something more than sweet old memories. CHAPTER XXV. AFTER SWO IKARI. passed, and brought , /}»**/»• inMeHnhlA uhanges. d-’lio Seasons have come and gone. The Howers have blcome l and died and bloomed aga n, and once more Elmwood is crowned in the full beauty of the month of roses. It is late in the afternoon, and for some time Margaret has been waiting Brian’s coming. Her eyes arc fixed alternately u[ on the long drive and upon the little lace sleeping peacefully in her I arms. I Maternity, that perfect completion of । woman’s nature, has given her a new grace and dignity, and leit upon her life the impress of a happiness tl at oven the shadow of old sorrows cannot lessen. Indeed, the sorrows are never remembered, except in a philosophical sort of way, and in the realization of all that she hoped and exported she feels that they have brought an ample reward. Brian has fully redeemed hi^iledgc, । and, with a life full of higher and nobler I purpose, is walking faithfully in his father’s footsteps, and winning the same honor and respect. He comes home with a light lieart this evening, and seeing Margaret, leaps I from his carriage to take her in his arms and kiss the two faces with warm and tender love. “Are you very tired?” she asks, looking into his eyes. “So, so. It has been warm in the vilj lage, but here it is quite deligh'ful. I Poor Mrs. Ellis is down again for good, i I fear, this time, an i Brown has an atj tack of influen a. He is more frighten- ! ed than hurt, I think, an I more troublei tome than either. He fancies lam not ' giving him sufficient medicine, anil ini sists on taking a double dose. His wife has quite a time With him. “What have you been doing with yourself, Margaret? Not trying any’ of yesterday’s experiments, I hope. Give !me Marguerite; she is growing quite ; heavy. You must not try to carry her 1 any more, dear. I will take her to Milly and we will walk to that hill to see the sun set. It is really superb.” When the baby’ had been given into the care of its nurse, Margaret linked her arm in Brian’s, and they walked towa d ihe place he had pointed out. “I have a piece of news which will please you, 1 know. Wilson has at last made up his mind to come to us for a week. We may expect him about the £ ' st, he says. ” “I am so glad,” Margaret answered, with genuine feeling. “We must make it such a delightful week that he will ( want to repeat it. It is ieally quite curious, I think. But, do you know, I never had sueh a strong desire to see any’ one murried as 1 have to see him? I know it would make such a happy difference in his life.” ’iJ cuppose you think that the only happy state for man?” “1 hope you do,” she replied, meeting his laughing glance. “It should be, and, as a rule, I think it is; the exceptions are individual cases. To my mind a poor, lonely old bachelor trying to persuade himself that he s so tunate in having escape 1 the evil of n atiimeny is a most doleful and pitiable spectacle. Ah, how glorious!” The last words were uttered as they reached the summit of the hill and tiie full splendor of the sunset burst upon them. They stood for a few seconds in silence, watching the globe of fire sinking in asa of gold. Then M; rgaret stoic more closely to his side with the words: “It seems t > hold the peace of benediction, Brian.’ “Abenediction,” he repeated, slipping

his arm about her waist and holding her to h s hea/t. “Ah, may we always feel the peace of such a benediction, darling. May we always stand together as we are standing now, through better and through worse; ever firm in each other’s trust; ever strong in each other’s love. And when our suns shall set, may’ our skies be a? < alm and as tranquil as this glorious one before us. “Oh. trauqu 1 »u iset of I Ho soul, When a 1 tao jar of earth is past: When storms no longer round us roll. And heaven is near at last; We know, though fail and faint wo may, Calm sunset ends th > longest day.” [the end.] She Was Gratelu'. We were nearing Jacksonville, Fla., after the long trip from New York. The porter had finished brushing oil a mother and her four children, each one of whom had demanded attention every fifteen minutes, when the woman turned and said: “YTm have been very attentive to us during the trip, and I wish to reward you.” “Yes, ’urn.” “What is your name?” she asked, as she took out pencil and notebook. “William White, mum.” She wrote for a minute on one of the leaves of her book and then tore it out and handed it to him with the remark: “A colored man who is ambitious to get along well will always find friends.” I caught him in the vestibule two minutes later and asked to see the paper. It read: “Mr. Pullman—Your man, William White, has been very attentive to me and my children, and I would recommend that you raise his salary and let him know that you fully appreciate his efforts. Mks. S. l’> I read it aloud t > the porter and then looked at him. He. gasped for breath, and it was a long minute before he could ejaculate: ‘Befo’ de Lawd! but 1 dun thought dat was a Hiteen-dol!ar check on some bank in Jacksonville. Hu! Shoo! Wall, of all de deleterious ol>noxiousness 1 e' or did dun meet up wid in all my life dis -aptivates de pinnacle!”-—New Y'ork Sun. Tools of the Pyrainhl Builders. A two years’ study at Gizch has convinced Flinders Petrie that ths Egyptian stone workers of 4,000 years ago had a surprising acquaintance with what have been considered modern tools. Among the many tools used by the pyramid builders were both solid and tubular drills and straight and circular saw-. The drills, like those of to-day, were set । with jewels (probably corundum, as i the diamond was very scarce), and I even lathe tods had such cutting edges. So remarkable was the quality of the tubular drills and the skill of the workmen that the cutting marks in hard granite give no indication of wear of the tool, while a cut of a tenth of an inch was made in the hardest rock at each revolution, and a hole th ongh both the hardest" and softest material was bored perfect!} smooth and uniform throughout. Os the material and meth al of making the tools nothing is known.

Beautiful, but a Keclme. The Empress of Austrii h is bean, since the death of I’.ince Rudolf, a c nnplete mental wreck, subject tc most pathetic delusions about hei son, and requiring the greatest care. She still preserves much of her stately beautv, for which she has been always fam it s among the royal women of Europe, for it is a beamy of contour which neither time nor trouble can destroy: but she is a constant recluse. The Emperor, in spite of domestic w >rry, adheres tc his habit of accessibility to his people, g’anting personal audiences and listening to every plea or story ol real or fancied wrong, a blending ol patriarchal habit with magnificence of court ceremonial which has not its counterpart in Europe. Si-uiea IhiCft. An event which caused much stir in the little community was the introduction of gas. Previously oil of a coarse kind, or cannel coal placed on the front of the grate, had been used for lighting purposes. Candles were m.prnsive and their light feeble, and so to a great extent the Squair was in a stale of darkness, for necessity or thrift reduced the use of artificial light to the minimum. An old woman of frugal habits, who had means and appliances superior to her neighbors, and who rejoiced in the possession of a servant, used to say tc that domestic, as the shades of evening began to descend: “Noo, Nannie, ye may pit the lamp on the table, an’ if onybody o' consequence ca’s ye can liclit it.”—The Scotsman. Stenj^r. In the Grecian army it was usual to have three men in each battalion to communicate the c nnmands of the officers to the men. Os these, one carried a standard and another a trumpet. But in the confusion and din of battle, when neither signal could be seen nor trumpet heard, the third man (who for this purpose was the strongest in Ihe army) communicated the commands by word of mouth. Homer relates of one of these men, Stentor by name, that he shouted as loud as fifty other men. lienee a man with a powerful voice is said to possess the voice of Stentor, or a stentorian voice. A Dining-Room Motto. In the dining-room of a quaint old house seen lately was the inscription over the tireplace in flowing, illuminated text: Work the jaws, A silent pause, frequent haw-liaws. Which was an exceedingly ant reminder of the value of slow eating and cheerfulness at table. The Tcwer of Landon. The oldest building in the United Kingdom is the Tower of London.

American Heroism. It is not infre juently charged that Americans are so sordid in sentiment, so eager and absorbed in the pursuit of material gain, that they are incapable ot heroism or self-sacrifice. Tne noblest daring recorded in verse or drama, in battle or mythology,does not surpass that shown in incidents recorded in the dispatches of the Herald iron) the flood district of lowa. Men did not hesitate to take the chances of losing their own lives for the saving of others, and a number have gone down in the deadly food from whose peril they vainly sought to rescue women and children. It is not so bard for the human spirit, full of emotion and stirred to extra ordinary effort by sudden impulse on battle-field or in other scene of brilliant spectacle or maddening excitement, to risk the loss of that which to every man is dearer than all else It requires a sterner courage, a heart more deliberate in self-sacrifice to risk life for others in a dismal river overflow, in a rickety boat, with no skill against rushing waters, little endurance in the chill of furious blizzards. Compared with the glowing peans that have handed down useless feats of fantastic chivalry, such tales may be called only dilapidated epics. Poets rarely’ celebrate such men. The conditions of their lives, the circumstances of their death, do not appeal to grandiose detion. Often their very names are unknown. Monuments do not commemorate their voluntary martyidom. It is such men, ol s mre, uncelebrated, that prove when the unexpected moment comes that there is in them them the metal of heroes. It is such sacrifices that vindicate the political and social experiments of democracy. It is homely, natural, simple deeds 1 ike these that pro v e manhood higher than caste. American greater than any other name left in the world. The merit in these men’s daring is that it was rational and not expectant, of reward, ideal or material. It is the noblest tribute man can pay to humanitv.—Chicago Herald. A Kentucky Horse Story. The Knowledgous New Yorker was in Kentucky to make a riding trip of several weeks, and wanted to have his own horse. lie found a fairly good one for the price, at last, and then ins sted upon having its pedigree. He wanted it. so he said, in order the more easily to sell when lie had finished his nde. Os course the pedigree was furnished, for a Ken tucky horse trader knows his 1 usi ness. The pedigree wks a beauty, too, on paper, and the New Yorker was tickled half todeath. He finished his ride some 200 miles from where he bought his horse, and at the last stable where he put '’fm up he oile;ed him for sale. ^‘Wha'.'s the price " ask d the “Two flftv," was the responsx “Too much," retorted the liveryman. ••But he's got a pedigree,” insisted the New Yorke r, going down in hipocket for the preci; us pap. r and handing it over. The liveryman, who know all the horses in the State and their collateral branches, look ■ I at the pai era moment and sno.ted ah u i. ■•What's the matter'?" aske i the astonishes. Ne-a Yorker. “Where did you get this pedigree? n inquired the liveryman. ■T’p in the blue grass region where 1 bought the horse.’’ The liveryman looked over the list of great ancestral names and laughed some more, and the New Yorker got hot. “What’s wrong with it?” he asked angrily, as he took it back and began tostudv it himself with the air of a man who knew what he was about. “Gh, nothing much,” replied the liveryman, “only its the pedigree of a jackals, 1.11 give you a hundred even for your hoss.” It was worth $l5O to ride th it 20C miles b ck to the starting point, and the New Yorker to >k the hundred and ground the pedigree paper under his heel. Pedigrees to Order. The editor of the country paper taught school between tim s, or the school teacher edited the paper between times,as you prefer; but to him one day in h's editorial capacity came a man to advertise a horse he had recently purchased. “I want to sec about putting in an advertisement, ' he said comprehensively “What is it?” inquired the pleased editor,for advertisements mean bread and butter and pie in some localities. “Well, I want a notice put in the paper that I'll make the season witii my hoss Blue Gras ;, namin’ the places and so forth, and also his pedigree.” “Where’s your advertisement?” “Oh, you'll have towrite it, 1 ain't no scholar.” The editor took his paper and pencil and as Ins patr m gave the needed facts he put them down. “Now, what is its ] edigree?” asked the editor when he had put the rest of the notice into shape. “You’ll have to write that too'” said the horseman. “Butyou’H have to tell me what it is.” “Write it,” said the patron. “I can't unless you tell me what it is. ” The horseman looked at the editor in supreme contempt. “Well.’’ lie exclaimed, getting up to go, “.you are a poor editor if you ! don’t know how to write a horse's ; pedigree.” ami be went over to the i opposition paper. People find themsehes at forty ; smilingly enduring a great many; troubles that when they were twenty, i they condemned people for standing.

THE SUNDAY SCHOOL. THOUGHTS WORTHY OF CALM REFLECTION. A F’.aasant, Interesting, and Instructive Lesson and Where It May Be found—A Learned and Concise Review of the Same. Paul's First Missionary Sermon. The lesson for Sunday, Nov. 20, may be found in Acts 13: 26-43. INTRODUCTORY. Here is a sermon worth reading, worth studying, aye, worth preaching asain. In fact, it is the or.e < lear Instance in the Bible of a repeated sermon, and it teaches us incidentally that it is wise to occasionally redeliver a gospel message which has been found fruitful under God. In the 4'2d verse of the lesson it is said that when the Jews were gone out of the synagogue (perhaps they had packed it full and crowded out their no less needy neighbors) the Gentiles besought that these words might be preached to them the next Sabbath. Very good. Let us have them preached again before ourselves and our friends to-day. WHAT THE LESSON SAYS. Men and brethren. Greek, men, brethren, i. e., brother men. A fraternal address. Children. Literally, sons. And whosoever, or, and who. The relative cause parallels the ad’ective phrase, sons of Abraham. They were at ihe same time sons of Abraham and fearers of Gol. cf. v. 16, closely rendered: Men of Israel and fearing God. Among you. Probably with allusion to ihe Gentiles present. To you. Emphatic. Above all men, Israel ouuht to accept the great salvation. Because they knew him not. Participial construction: not know ng. From the Greek word used here comes our term, Agnostic. Voices of the prophets. Hearing the sound but not recognizing the voice. Condemning him. Condemning him they had unwillingly condemned themselves. And though they foun I no cause, etc. A marked case of interpretative translution. Greek: And having found no cause of death, they besought Pilate that he should be slain. Fulfilled all. The wicked working the righteous will of heaven. They took him down * * * ant i i a jd him. Man’s part. But God raised him. God’s part After man had done all he could against Go!, but, after all, for God. Many days. Greek: Upon many days, i. e., at various timeg Which came up with him. His disciples, Galileans. Mho are his witnesses. Kept with him for this especial purpose; see John 15: 2Z ("Ye also shall bear witness, because ye have leen with me from the beginning"). M e declare unto you glad tidings. Thus witnessing: The word for “glad tidings" is our word evangel or gospel. form of the same word as glad tidings above. M ith which it is constructively in apposition, i. e., what was a promise to them is glad tidings to us. liaised up Jesus. The resurrection was the center of apostolic witnessing. It may be well to note that the lievision following Tischendorf’s reading hero translates oar children, i. e., io the g-nerations of to-day.—Second I’sa’m. Tischendor': First Psalm. So original y, the First Ps. Im being regarded as introductory. As eon erning that lie raise 1 him up. Trie literal is more luminous and expressive: In that he rais d him up from ’lie dea 1. neve r again to return to corruption, by so much he was saying, I will give you the sure mercies of David. Or s n e the prophecy is here being fulfilled he was saying in that transcendent act of the resurrection, I am giving y u. 1 here give gou the true mercies of David (promised in David; fulfilled in Christ).

The holy one. Same word rendered sure m reies in the verse before. Then it meant pledged things, here it means pledged person. WHAT THE LESSON TEACHES. To yon is the wor 1 of this salvation sent. It was a spec al message, a close, direct pers nai appeal. Who are the o ejects of it? The stock of Abraham, those who feared Cod. A similar app al is n ade above at v 16. “Men of Israel and fearers of Cod.” The call is espe:daily to those who believe in God.” In other words it is a particular appeal to the church. If yon believe in God says Paul, 1 have a new message from Col for you—a message of love. The chur h hears the same reiterative app al to-day. God is ever coming to his people with new stores of grace. Just because they are bis own, he awakes them to soprehens en of good. Though they found ocause of death in him. Bather, “because they found no cause, the:efere entreated they Pilate that he should be slain.” What they could not get by right > they begged as a favor. Having no case, they put it < n the score of grace. So also at Acts iii. 1 ! , whore Peter says to the Jews: “Ye denied the Holy One and the Just, an 1 desired a murderer to be granted (graced) tin oyou.” Pc arful reprobacy. 1 r .ying for the death of God's Son as a favor, their account of grace the priviiege of slaying the r Savior. Man’s willful maliciousness can go no further. He prays and s'ays. And now, heart of man, I know thee, at thy best and at thy worst. Continue in the grace of God. We are all children of grace, almoners of God’s goodnes. Every breath >ve breathe, every crumb of bread we eat is by the mercy of Go h Now what is it to ad< cept of Jesus Christ? It is to do a very reasonable thing, it is simply to go on in the grace of God. Continue therein. Let the goodness of past days, the mercies of the lower spheres of existence, prompt us to reach forward to the enjoyment of God’s higher blessings, for which indeed these other things are but the preparation. Be wise; be sensible. Why frustrate the grace of God? “Kiss the Son, lest he be angry, and ye perish from the way, when Lis wrath is kindled but a little. Blessed are all they that put their trust in him.” Next Lesson— The Apostles Turning to ’.he Gentiles.” Acts 13: 41-52; 14: 1-7. Their Last Words. “Throw up the w ndow that I may once more see the magnificent scene of nature. ” —l'ousseau. “Sori,, thou hast served Christ these seventy years, an 1 art thou afraid to die? Go cut, go out!”—Hillary. “My soul I resign to God, my body to the earth, and my worldly possessions to my relatives.’’—Michael Angelo. “When you wish to know what to do,’ ask yourself what Christ would hive d. ne in the same circumstances.” — Horace Mann.

SPICED AND PICKLED ARE THE INDIANA NEWS ITEMS UN THIS COLUMN. Fresh Intelligence from Every Tart of the State—Nothing of Interest to Out Readers Loft Out. Minor State Items. Richmond has a now brush and broom I manufacturing establishment. William Deering, aged 50, was found dead in bed at Warsaw, from heart disease. 1 Fire destroyed the Howland Block at Lapel. Loss, §3,000; insurance, 8100, on the stock. 1 Joel Da vidson, a well-to-do Richmond farmer, Iras gone crazy from campaign excitement I Charles Graves, a young man of Corydon Junction, was run over and killed by a train. j The Peru Electric Manufacturing Company, capital stock 8100,000, has been incorporated. | Jacob Noel,a convict in the Michigan : City penitentiary, has fallen hMr to an estate valued at 86,000. i Jesse Cummings, son of Ellen Cummings of Terre Haute, a railroader in lowa, was killed by the cars. I Joel Davidson, a citizen of Wayne County, is reported to have been driven insane by political excitement | William Korsmeyer, young farmer near Evansville, committed suicide by shooting himself with a shotgun. The Moore’s Hill railway station looks as if it had passed through a cyclone, owing to a storm of rocks by hoodlums. 1 Dutch Smith, of Muncie, had one of his hands smashed off while coupling cars on the L. E. & W. railway at Tipton. Gari.and E. Rose, an old citizen and one of the leading dry goods merchants I of South Bend, died as a result of brain troubles. I George Beck, a Councilman of Huntington, had a Roman candle in his pocket, when it was touched off and seriously I burned his leg. Eliza Elliott, 14 years old, was truck by an Ohio and Mississippi train a New Albany and died an hour later. The girl was very deaf. Jackson Horner, of Moore’s Hill, i while intoxicated, took his wife buggy- । riding with another man’s horse, and got a sentence of two years in the penitenti- | ary. j The Southern Furniture Company’s office, storehouse and manufacturing I plant in Evansville were totally destroyed by lire. Loss §25,000; partly inI su red. The combination of Indiana gas companies. o: 'anized to fight the piping of natural gas to Chicago, will make no ■ new moves until the decision of the SuI promo Court iu the injuction case now ' pc nd io A ma med Johnson was killed in I Niino No. 3, belonging to the Brazil । Block Coal Company at Coalsville. He had recently gone to that place from ; Clay City to work in the mine. He was instantly killed by falling slate. । Mn. John Rinehabt, a young man j aged 18, while out hunting, near Seymour, was accidentally shot and in- | stantly killed. lie is the son of one or ' Seymour's prominent citizens and was a young man well-liked by everybody. I Billy Larkin, an Anderson man, swallowed a tiny turtle i:. a glass of beer the other night, just to show off. Then, like the whale that couldn't stomach Jonah, be threw up his job. The turtle is well, but Billy is indisposed. A i.arge fox-terrier dog of Neil Coleman created a panic at Elkhart by going mad. The animal ran wildly about the streets, bit eleven persons, several seriously, and also attacked a number ot dogs. It was finally shot by Dr. Turner. i Mrs. Mary Morris, a helpless para- ! lytic, aged 67, was burned to death near i Kokomo, during the temporary absence ( of the family. A sparK from the pipe she was smoking ignited her clothing,and , being powerless to help herself, she per- ' ished in the flames. [ Coroner Driscoll of Muncie, has decided that William Moffett of Yorktown, who died a week ago, met his death from natural causes. A few days since Miss Ida Mann of Indianapolis, to whom Moffi‘tt was affianced, wont to Muncie as she suspected he met his death in an unnatural way. Near Batesville, while hunting M il- । Hani Sheor. aged 19, got on a stump and in pulling the gun up, the hammer ■ caught, exploding tlw charge. The ball > took effect in the groin and passed out near the spinal column. The young ma:’. ; lingered in great agony a few hours, I when death relieved him. A gas wel. on the Storms farm, six ' miles west’ ot Montpelii r, that has been supplying that vicinity, commenced flowing oil the other day, a id in a short time the patrons of the line were bothered with oil so much they were obliged to turn off al! lights and fires, and could gather a pail of oil at any of the jets or burners in a short time. The schools at Dundee were using gas from this line, and the teachers dismissed the students because they could not control the oil that was flowing into the house. Cov. Chase has extended executive clemency to the following convicts: Daniel West, colored, of Grant County, a “lifer,” who fought with a rival named MeNlath, while his friend Casey slipped up in the rear and killed McMath with a blow over the head, ’ as the first on the list. Gov. Hendricks pardoned Casey years ago; Charles I feiffer of Huntington county, was convicted in 188 S of manslaughter for killing W. G. Morse, his former employer, because Morse prevented him from getting work elsewhere, and also because lie believed Morse slandered his wife, was also pardonedCurlie L. Arbuckle, a bigamist, of Kokomo, dying of cons; mption, and brakeman Wm. F. Robi its and Joseph E. Brown, of the Penn ylvania lines, convicted of stealing a pair of shoes from the company, completed the list. Joseph Wamrau* h. proprietor of the Brighton Beach road-house. Indianapolis, was shot whib hunting near New Philadelphia. Wambaugh received a load of shot from the gun of trapshooter Cook, whicl was intended for a bird. The wound i not serious. Levi Rogers, an old citizen, while standing on the. depot platform at Pendleton, was str .ck in the breast with a package of Indianapolis papers thrown from a fast mail. He was knocked from the piatfurm and pi ked up unconscious. Internal injuries are feared, as indicated by hemorrhage.’ Mis recovery is ver; • doubtful.