St. Joseph County Independent, Volume 18, Number 25, Walkerton, St. Joseph County, 7 January 1893 — Page 2

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•^T WmH / BY^^JV ' ■ aS^ 6 ^ J CHAPTEiI XIV. “There, there, dear! don’t I o alarmed. You’ve just woke up from a nice, long sleep. ” “Sleep! Then the bridge, the storm, Raymond! No, no! it was all true. Oh! where am I? Who are you? How came I here, in this strange place?” “You are among kind, true friends, dearie—kind, true friends, and you mint not get excited, the doctor says.” Kind-hearted, motherly old Mrs. Blake, the farmer’s wife, stroked Ednt Deane’s brow as she spoke, and he startled charge sank Lack among tin moaning with weakness, mysti fleatiu^, and anxiety. A long sleep, indeed, had it been; sci two weeks had p issed away since honest Farmer John had dragged her from the snowdrift at his cottage door, ran for the doctor, and, with his solicitous wife, had worked all night long to revive her well-nigh exausted vitality. Since then, in dose and delirium, the poor child had lain, and this was the first awakening to consciousness. She listened wth a shudder to Hu story that her motherly nurse told her of their finding her that weird snowy night. She cried softly as she told her, too. how they e ime to love her bonny, innocent face—how, if sho was homeless, friendless, they would gladly make room for her in their home and their hearts, bereft only a short year since by \Jhe death of their own darling child. ^Ul’hey asked her no questions as she gnkw stronger daily, and Edna did i ot enlighten them. It seemed as if a pall, never to be lifted, hung over her young life. She remembered all that the messenger her father had sent for her had imparted to her—that he alone had placed her at the seminary years agone, and with him had perished the mystery of her young life, all hopes of establishing her identity, of finding her father. Sho had been cast u; on the world alone, with no claim upon her past life, and the mystery of her true identity was a mystery still. No claim, save one—Raymond! Hei hea t beat anxiously as she thought ol him. How he would worry over hei sudden departure, her strange silence. She must write to him, to her dear frienc Beatrice Mercer, at once. No, she remembered all her guide had told her must never communicate w th am fat'h’ ° her situation fretted her A week passed by. She was strong once more. All one day Edna reflected seriously. That night, glancing lovinglj at the faces of her kind friends, she told them of her resolve. “Ton have been like an own fathei and mother to me.” she murmured, gratefully. "I .an never forget you—n 'ver cease to love you, but—l am going away.” “Going away!” sighed the kindly Mrs. Blake. “Yes; I must see some friends. Then I will return, then I may be glad of your happy, happy home. Please do ‘ not question me, tut I must go. Reluctantly they bale her good-by the next morning. The farmer drove her over to the railroa 1 station. In the new gai mints with which her old torn and bedraggled attire had been replaced, no one recognized her as the supposed victim of the bridge disaster, an event strangely that Mr. Blake had not heard of. Edna hud a few dollars in her pocket. She bought ati ket taking her halt way to H orcdale, kissel the fatherly farmer good-by. promised towrite or return within a few da .s, and the train whirle I her away. At tiro terminus she sold her wa'ch. This gave her ample means to continue her journey. All the way she was thinking of what she should do. Something in the memory of her guide’s strange warning about the mystery that clouded her father’s life impelled her to secrecy in all her movements, and when she reached Hopedale at noon she trusted to her attire and a heavy veil to conceal her identity. She haunted the vicinity of the seminary. She would try to get word to Beatrice. Finally, she addressed a strange student. TheaepL. t » her questions etuLkd acd’dlsconoertod her. Miss Mercer had left the seminary two weeks previous. Then I’aymond—sho must find him now. She could tell him everything. While he endeavored to get some trace of her father, she would return to the Blakes and make her home with them. It was just dusk when she finally rang at the door-bell of the Marshall residence. A servant informed her that Mr. Marshall wa’ not a’ home. H'- had gone to the hotel with his lather, the colonel. ‘ What shall I do? Oh! lam so fearful of making a mistake, but I must see Haymond. Who else can I appeal to in my uncertainty?” Dubiously, undecidedly, Edna walked i towards the village hostelry. It was quite dusk, and she was very tire I when she reached the place. Mechanically, almost, she ascended the stairs leading to the ladies’ parlor, and sank to a cushioned chair, thinking, wondering, 1 oping she was doing what was eminently proper, and for the best. Footsteps on the stairs brought her (o her feet. If it was a servant, she would ask her to try and find Mr. I'aymond Marshall and his father, and send them -•W her—but it was no servant. The tamiliar form of Doctor Simins । assed the door, and following him was a clericallooking man, and the former was^aying: “Mr. Marshall is waiting for us. This way, sir.” Mr. Marshall—Raya ond! He was in the hotel, then? What meant the words of the Doctor? Why was the ministe-rial-looking man here? For a few moments the perplexed girl lingered. Then, involuntarily, she stole from the room and down a corridor,

The sound of voices through the open door of a darkened room drew her to its threshold. It was the parlcr of the suite o ciq led by Beatrice Mercer. The half-o. on door of the communicating apartments admitted the sound of solemn, impressive words. Was she dreaming? Half-stunned sho staggered across the room and peered into the next. Beu Th e—Ray mond —a minister—Colonel Marshall. The two former with hands united, one lying on a couch, the other, she fancied, bending tenderly town rd her. Oh! surely, this was some delirium of ■ the senses, her old fever returned. No, for just then came the solemn, ; somber words from the lips of the cler- • gyman: 3 "And you, Raymond Marshall, do take Beatrice Mercer as your legally wedded ’ wife, to cherish and protect while life 1 shall last!” The unhappy girl reeled where she ’• stood. Her senses seemed deserting a her. C Tinging to the door-knob for sup--51 port, peeiing, horrified, pulsating, she 10 drew the door epen. l " Sho saw Raymond Marshall start, r stare, recoil—ho alone. Her senses I took in the scene as the crowning tabn leauof a sot of scenes in her young life that had brought wreck, heartbreak and disaster to her fondest b hopes. Then she turned and fled, sick at soul, , affrighted, appalled. A voice seemed to call her, but she h edod it not. e Out through the portals of the hotel she aped, down the street like one mad, . i past the limits of the town, into the somber forest. ; ; At the foot of a giant oak she sank > all of a heap. Its leaves were green 2 : in the olden days when it had been a ‘ trysting-place for happy hearts, but : now blighted, faded, fallen, crushed I under feet. ■ j Her life seemed ebbing, her heart Iwas breaking, her vision shrank apt palled from that last vivid picture of treachery and faithlessness. ’ I “Oh, let me die,” wailed the unhappy _ j girl, burying her face in her hands in । an agony of heart-break, “for Raymond । ! is false! false! false! " CHAPTER XV. _ ix vEnn. By the old oak tree Edna Deane lin- ■ , ; gored until the silence of midnight had d ! fallen over the scene. a She took no note of time; she was i only vaguely conscious ot her surr . roundings. d 1 Here she ha I loved and trusted, hero r | her heart had I roken. and the cruelty >. of a treacherous friend, the faithlvssd ness of a plighted lover, had crushed >- j all the joy and hope out of her fresh -. young life. v i Those silent, anguished hours hnw. . - -.i - — oui t>vm„ M । but it fainted not.- The rare purity Ot ; her sweet nature kept her from utter g ’ despair. She was crushe I, but dutv lay d still before her. y ■ A barren path the future, but she d ; must triad it alone. She must make ! no sign as the cruel thorns piereed her r ! tender heart; she must drain to the , | dregs the cup His hands had tendered, - , without sigh or moan. ■ -i looking upon the blurred fabric of I her girlhood’s love-dream as a »hat- ■. tered stately palace, hoping that fate । would lead her to the father whose love i ; and sympathy she so craved in those r , hours ot darkness and gloom, she arose t i at last, and with set, silent face, turned I her steps away from Hopedale, she be- ■ lieved, for the last time and forever. ') She reached the railroad town across . country, and took the first tram for i home. Home! Yes, her heart thrilled at the name. Home was where loving > hearts encompassed quiet, even duties. There she' would 1 e welcome. Mr. and j Mrs. Blake would receive her as a ; । friend, as a daughter, ami some day she j might toll tae kind hearted farmer’s I wife her sad. oitter story, and learn ! from her lips how to bear her cruel burden and suffer in silence. I She did not try to comprehend how all that had transpired had comd to pass. The one glaring fact confronted ‘ami appalled her—she had arrived at j Hopedale to see her lover w<d another, j No excuse of time, of absence could | condom' such speedy transfer of affection. He was shallow-hearted, disloyal, • insincere, and she, Beatrice, a schemi ing siren. “Mercy, child! how white ami fright- | ened you look. But, never mind. Thank . ; heaven ! you have come back. John , has been so lonesome for aqolher sight • of yourJjxtimie face, that I e hasn’t cut, Tslept or smiled since you went away.” That, was Mrs. Blake’s cheery wel- ' come, and it warme 1 and comforted the ■ homeless wanderer. They asked no questions, but the keen motherly eye of the farmer’s wife seemed to intuitively take in a true con- j ception era shrewd guess of the true state of aTairs, and without actually intruding on Edna's grief, she spoke many j a quiet, effective word of consolation. 1 tried to lead her gust’s thoughts to । other themes, as the days went by. Thus it was that in less than a week I Edna had settled down into a life peaceful, happy, indescribably so, only wb.en that dark shadow of the past haunted her heart 1 ke a pall. Her new friends had talked plainly to i her. They liked her; she tilled a dead I daughter’s place in their hearts. She was welcome to remain with them as guest or adopted child as long as she chose. The little household duties she engaged in busied her thoughts. She saw a new mission in life in making the de- ; dining years of these two friends hapj py with her presence, her aid and her I smiles. Indulgent Farmer John brought her | new dresses, trained his best pony for ’ her use in riding and driving, and in- . sisted that she try to woo back the I roses to her wan cheeks by a scamper | । over the moors and down the river path J i every day. The first fierce snow of autumn had ; i melted beneath the warm sun, and i ! November seemed like May, only for , the red fallen leaves and the crisp, J bracing air. One afternoon Edna set forth in the | little phaeton for a drive over the hills, i The gentle pony answered to the light- ! est direction of the lines; the carriage ;

dog, Rrt-wo, trotfel placidly behind. She could think in these peaceful drives and there was a somber satisfaction In brooding once in a while over the past This especial day Edna prolonged her drive beyond its usual limits. She drove clear to and beyond the next vil lage, and only realized that she would have difllculty in reaching home again before dusk, when sho looked up from a sad reverie to lind that the short afternoon was waning fast. The sight of a flaming bush of a variety quite ruro in the vicinity of the Blake farm iKtracte I her attention however, and sho alighted from tho phaeton. Mrs. JHako had a hobby of pressing piotty leaves, and Edna remembered that, she particularly treasured th'* variety. Here they seemed to grojF^n profusion, and sho decided to gather quite an armful of them. She kept wandering through the little wooded stret h where they grew, allured j by the distant sight of a still pretties., clump of bushes, until, fairly loaded, she. looked up. intent on retracing her way : to tho phaeton. I “Dear!” she uttered with a littlestart, “where'is tho road?” She penetrated the brambly jungle in.two directions with no success, noting; with a slight thrill of dismay that dus^' was fast approaching. Whore was tho road, the phaeton ande Bruno? Once sh^ called the name o| tho latter, but she decided sho must be! quite a distance from tho spot sho hadj atnrled from for the usual nromnt an--

sianea irom, lor me usual prvinpc up- f j pearance of the faithful animal in re-^ spouse to such a call was lacking. p Throwing <l<>wn -her leaves, through the bushes straight uhe’J?^ came 1o a high stone wall, and cr*ehing sight of tho towers of a prete# <-»us j structure beyond it, lined the ^-Ss-w covered barrier until sho camo Io broken gate set in the wall. All wns Bile nt and forbidding abouß the old structure, but there was evi- | dence of occupancy in the curtained windows, and she fancie 1 sho caught j I tha glimmer of a dress on the lawn - I some distance away. “I will And some one al out the house ‘ and inquire my way to the road," re- ; fleeted Edna, timorously. She picked her way across an uneven, ill-kept garden, once so nearly falling • into a trap with great extending jaws, it evidently sot f< r tramps or thieves, that I sho shook with apprehensive terror. jl “Oh! there is a lady. I seo her now. I I will ask her. Mercy!” I On the verge of som' pit or excava- | tion in tho garden, Edna wavered, tried i to draw back, and then, losing her bal- J ance, plunged forward. fl She fell fully fifteen feet. Her hea dll grazed tho board side of tho pit, anil half stunned her. Dimly realizing than tho hole, covered over with branched R was a trap for intru’era, she looked । i blankly up at the top with a shudder, comprehending that sho cou!<X never ! scale the steep. “Help! holpj help! Thrice the cry rang out, with all the strength of h«r bell-like voice. Hopefully Edna looked up as the branches overhead were parted. “Who is there?" spoke a woman’s I voice. I “I have fallen hero," cried Edna; j “please help me. Mercy; It canaC** be "**■ ( /vjug, i, in -"Hi Ine fO'ei «,] 111 t 1 ACO shut

ai iim! nice mai looxea down upon her. For its fair, false owner was- Beat- [ rice Mercer! |TO HE COXTISUKH. | How Talmage I>ne» It. Many Americans abroad are exceed- ’ Ingly annoyed at the r lack of skill in the use of the European languages, writes the Rev. DeW itt I almage in tho 1 adies' Home Journal. After a vain attempt to make a Parisian waiter understand I roach they swear at him in En- • glish. But I have always remembered when traveling abroad the art of the physician who put nil the remains of old prest ript ons into one bottle—tho ' 0.1. and tho calomel, and the rhubarb. | : and the as-afn tida-and when he found s a patient with a "complieation ot diseases. ho would shake up his old bottle and give him a dose. Ami so I have compounded a limgua-JP for European travel. T generally take a little French, ■ and a little Gorman, and a little En- i glish. with a few snatches of Chineso and t hoctaw, and when 1 I n I a stubborn ease ot waiter or land.ord who will nt>t understand. I simply shake up all tho dialects and give him u dose. It is sure to strike somewhere. If you cannot make him understand, you at any rate give him a terr ble scare. I never had the anxiety of some in a strange land about getting things to cat. 1 like everything in all the round of diet except animated cheese and odorous codfish; always have a good ap« i petite pever in my life missed a mea^j save once, when I could not get an^ and knowing that “cine gcrostete fleisch means a beefsteak, “efne mosser” a kuiic, uuu "eine gabel” a. lurk, and “eine serviette” n o.,i>kiu, after that I feel perfectly reckless as to what 1 can or cannot get. I ar-R<-a<-libig InHuence. Kindness and sympathy are rarely waste 1 on the unfortunate, as the following touching story shows. A wealthy young lady, anxious to be of some use in the word, made a practice of taking flowers to women in prison. One day she' encountered a pacth ularly abandoned character, and replied to her torrent of profane abuse I y handing her a white rose. As she turned away sho heard one heart-breaking ciy. and the voice that had breathed imprecation moaned over and over again the one j word, “Mother! mother! mother!” The ; next week she came again. The jailer ' met her, saying, “That woman whom you saw last week is asking for you constantly; I never saw a woman so j changed.” Soon the two were alone in ' the cell, and the penitent, her hea l resting on the shoulder of her newfound friend, told with sobs her sad story. “That white rose was just like one which grew by our door at home in ScotlaLfe my mother’s favorite flower. She was a good woman. My father’s character was stainless, but I broke their hearts by my wicked ways, then drifted to America, where I have lived a wicked life. Is it too late to mend?” And that is how a better day dawned for one erring soul. Ocean Freighters. Cargo steamers are growing in size. A 9,000-tonner was launched two weeks ago, and another one similar in size is being laid down. A Holland journal, Do Klok, pub- ' lishss an advertisement of a gunmaker calling attention to a new kind of shotgun, very cheap, and “specially recoin- j mended to poachers." .

rodetiij. pilot ^- q ^-a Tachi . A Loadi' ^1 Street p a - lr . Train- CHut Five a Fort w.. Alive a r Without Serio Pa, ’ Be,, * erß E «»Pe ' nal N|jk ~ipliffence. us ll Uury—CrlmiEicni noAnm d ° ut Thelr rave,.

^our^ neopio w bill . ’ than ts pe that Klllof l and more Thursf 7 ^rninX tT injUred early Fort AV, me train^^ collision of a car of f 3 Chle Ggo Ci?? ® ro , WfJ ed street4<th st. -et and Railway a t. e the tri^ whini aveilu e cross-

0 " f ."'S’";; in the nt « 10 <»’clo k 1 r io? s cr,> wd d wltt ; ,t hl F° nx OaHt ‘>n l ortv II ion pj WAs Ml Fort Wayne and Wabash ! ‘ FBI wa9 no warning of an ap- ! < irL ain ’ Within the ill-fated p-b^orkmen smoking their clay latting pleasantly, wholly , _,f their impending danger. :

dar ki there was a wild shriek of c/anging of the bell, unu a Jn train running at a high crashed into the car, creatxMvoc. There was no previI th® bell, no conspicuous eng ne which was moving w >and the gateinan and towi rjw crossing had failed wholly to ^yQuty. Neither was at his post, j Wrreck occurred while it was still I I K fer the driver or conductor of Peet car to see 100 feet down the 1 f one expected the cons!r ic- I .Tain, and the first known of the iger was when the engine shrieked * M 1 * 0 crash came. An instant later 1 ’l''*! und wounded were strewn ■Mill Dozen ground, the street car Ig . complete wreck, and tho tra n r by ’ leaving a frightful sc. ne of and confusion behind, rhe horses *i j loose from the car and ran away. r risers in the vicinity rushed to ■Keabscue of the passengers, and the W* /c/' wa9 l urnet l i°to all the neighborSp police stations. Three hundred ■..Js south of the crossing the train KbOio to a standstill, and the half a Hundred workmen who were on board r e 3 ronte to work down the tra k hurried to the assistance of tho injured. Wildest < nnfii,i<>n Reigncil. h Wild confus on reigned for the first jtew minutes. Those who had come to , the work of rescue could hear the pitii fid cries of the wounded and seo the of one dead man. Where to bogn was a question which ] uzzled them, i | live police patrol wagons arrived on tie scene soon and policemen took i «large of the work. | 4At first little attention was directed ’ . ti the train which had dorto the damage. Hit after those about the ear had been kjlckei up it was found that tho bo lies I " J v< * ro under tho tender. twill nr nrrAuf 'l'l*. >u.» n

iwvier nrrr^r. i hpao Bernard O’Connor and Driver Patrick Stanley, who were on the street ear; ; Engineer Rosecup and Fireman Meager. of tho construction train; “Old John" i I llbright, gateman.and Peter Schwartz, i towerman at tho crossing. “Old John" was indicted last January for alleged carelessness when tho freigl tful a cident of Jan. 14 occurred at his crossing. Both the gnt.'man and tho towerman were in what is known as the ground house by tho stove when the < onstruction train camo down the track. CIVIL-SERVICE EXTENSION. Little Prospect That President Harrison Will Take Action. Bashington special: A gentleman who has talked with the President on tho subject says that the people who are expecting a large increase in the classified civil service before the administration changes will be very sadly disappointed. He said that tho President is strongly Inclined to exten I the civii-servii e rules in connection with the Postoflico Department, but that he h is practically abandoned the purpose of any general extension, su h a> the increase of the employes of the Government printing . ofleelor the custom. 3 service. All employee now outside tho protecting lines ®o civil-servleo regulations are nVing every endeavor to have themsjlF^es intren-hel against Democratic Interference, tut so far without success. There is a snag in the way of tho ex- ■ nsion of the civil service classification pw the Government Printing Office. It umbij^ l l l /be desire of the -T'rt nf-the Coni.•sslon that the office should be llought within the civil service classi- . illation, but there is trouble before them in tho form of opposition by tho ! Typographical Union. The objection 19 the extens'on of the service is raised tlit if appo'n- ments are made upon any farm of examination which does not recoj^jize membership of the union as a na oqcary qualification it will result in wjat th<> union would call “rats” getting into government employ The government is hardly prepared t<> declare that none but union men shall be qualified for employment, and the union will certainly object to any employment within that class of persons not belonging to the union. UNCLE SAM'S BIG GAIN. The Destruction of Paper Money Has Benefited the Government. In all that has been recently writfen about the depleted condition of Hie United States treasury little or no ac- j count has been taken of the fact that : with each passing year the treasury is a large gainer by the complete destruction by casualty of its outstanding obligations, says a AVashington dispatch. How much this amounts to. what percentage each year, etc., the best statis- | tjcians of the treasury department i hdve no means of definitely ascertaining. No two of their figures are alike. Since 196'2, when the Government began to issue paper money, $5,819,629,108 have been issued of all kinds and denominations up to July I, 1892. Within tho same period $4,854,451,629 have been redeemed, leaving outstanding on July 1, 1892, as a liability against the Government, $967,178,479. Tho basis for the redemption of this vast sum of paper varies—gold for the gold certificates, silver for the silver certificates—sloo,6oo,ooo in gold as a reserve for certain notes, and so on. k All this money is kept in the vaults

, for redemption th ® Paper l .yni nevJr be' p^ente? ° n lhiS ^ er haustive inquiry on thm' J? an ex ' by United States T™ sub J e ct made was estimated that Hm ? rer HyaW on all the issues L to a ^ re ^e loss I would not be less (h n c»7^ Uary ' 1888 . estimate did not in^ludF t hn ’ Thi * currency—“so cents fractional and 5 cent shin nlam?J n < tS ’ 10 cents tensive circulation ... la Bucb ex-

following the war" fcw yea?s ) construed the act of t tary Shor ™an ' I stating that $8,375 931 of”? 2 /’ 1879 > as • rency issued under var s ctlona l curj een destroyed and it IOUB acts had went aa issued montm d<?bt state ' a debt bearing no m? th y carries as 462.620 f this fractions i terest but $6,903,States Treasure N 4*T enCy ’ Unlted carries tho full am? A eker ’ however and in h!s re ort this h ' B book ^ more than sls < 8 ales that currency i 8 o ? ot Hus fractional it K I<d fr r n i lOr ° lhnn $1 000 w UUtIon - an <i outX„m <le,n P“ o n lait 2 as Proßentcoll»,“< dl " B 18 held tA „ yenr ' " hat i 9 anil coin and ®' Oat extent by Jhcm ^. Vuluo a * cabinets. HU^|U^^^nonev. K r eat C r than its rency, fractional and otherwise, estl- I mated to have been destroyed and not likely to Ee ] resented for redemption, I approximates by these figures more than $14,(03,000. A re ent estimate prepared in the Treasury Department

places the sum as high as $20,000,000. This money can only be taken out of the ! liabilities of the Government by ConI gressional enactment. This will prob- । ably be attempted in the near future. ; The investigations into this subject have shown that most of the money j lost has been destroyed in railroad i wrecks that caught the, though no ini considerable quantity has been de- ! stroyed by fires that occurred in the country banks, postoflices and resi- ! dences. UPSET THE PLAN. The President Vetoes Secretary Foster's Arrangements with Wall Street. A New York correspondent says that Secretary of the Treasury Foster's trip to New York City was not on private business, as was given out officially, but was forth ■ purpose of consulting Wall I street magnates on the proposition to relievo the money market and check j the export of gold by having the government issue from $50,0(1(1,000 to $100,000,000 of bonds. The Wall street men were in favor of the scheme and the speculative contingent were in high feather. The I’residcnt's co-operation had been counted on as sure, but this j confidence was suddenly discovered to bo delusive. The President not only refused to approve the deal, but he went further and expressed himself with unusual force and declared that he could see no excuse for issuing bonds, and, । what was more, he did not propose that i any should be issued while he was Presi ident. Ac ording to Wall street reports, I Secretary Foster, before he suddenly ' left town to go West, is credited with I having received a dispatch from AVashi ington couched in pretty stiff language j and running substantially as follows: 1 want no new bonds Issued under my | administration. Take uo steps. Do noth-

■w—r-Tr, 1 B- Hahhison. , , "' ' ‘ ’"‘-t Ihe Well I longe I conference ■I, “*^trrmo wt ' । the most notable men in tho street are • | said to have been present, and an agree- ; m nt was formed on the financial policy of the Government. The action of । | 1 resident Harrison upset their plana . entirely. NO MERCY TO THE JEWS. Barbarism of a Grand Duke—Cruel Edicts living Enforced Relentlessly. Thelatestadvi.es from St. Petersburg ami other parts of Russia show that the persecution of tho Jews and , the inhumanity of the Czar’s officials ■ toward that unhappy race are greater ( than ever before. Six edicts have been ( issued, aiming to disperse the Jewish subjects of Russia, weaken their, posiI tion at trading centers ami crush out t their religion. These edicts are en--1 forced wit h tho utmost rigor in many parts of the empire and with seveiiity ev< r ■ a here. I The Moscow papers boast that, since the beginning of 1891, 20,000 Jews have been converted to orthodoxy. The tin- . happy converts, who have "been driven i to a pretended denial of their religious faith in order to escape intolerable persecution, have been deported to the district of Teherkosovo, about fivo miles from Mos ow. There they are rigerously governed I y priests of the Russian orthodox church, who require them to a’tend the services of that church and to comply with its various rules, watching narrowly for any sign of evasion or i repentance. These priests have entire j the ailegUu and I only allowed Iwe'lb return to Mos- ' cow upon a certificate from the priests i vouching that the ccnvert holding such : document is assured in the faith of the । orthodox church. TO START A RELIGIOUS DAILY. Methodists Talk of a Paper in Chicago with 1,000,000 Subscribers. It has developed that the Methodists j propose someth ng unique in daily jourAt a convention of the Ep^°ith League of n,, 1(b ,., n wi^ con sin. i at Hudson, a resolution was passed recommending that the Methodist Church of America begin the publicat on of a Daily Christian Advocate at Chicago, the editorials to be in line with advanced liberal relig'ousthought, with sensational and objectionable news elimin ited from the news columns. It is estimated that there are five million members of the Metho list Church j in America, and the promoters of the > scheme s ry that a daily could be started with ani Ilion sub cribers. The influence of the piper, it is claimed, will be far reaching. Epworth Leagues throughout, the country, it is understood, will pass similar resolutions, ami tho new venture will be launched in March or ! April. Arrests of persons supposed to have been concerned in the plots against the government at Santiago continue. One of the most prominent prisoners is a nephew of Archbishop Casonova. Henrietta Frenzer, who sued Fred K. Schrieber in the City Court. Brooklyn, for $5,000 damages for breach of promise of marriage, got a verdict for $2,000. The revolutionary sentiment in Rio Grande do Sul, Brazil, is subsiding. It is now known that the Federal Government intends to interfere.

plying--aL a French gentleman, retions of a n Ct l r her for tho n?? * ho had a PPHed to had lately been t ' ) °n n C °° k ’ and who service said tim k Ihe ^ ent leman's mend ’the a iniL he f Ould not ™o<n- * ‘PX’t ro applicant; that she VQa

extra vacant , Save the letter t/V? , 1 he lady tho cook’s position who‘'i!’ 1 ’ fnr «>• and admonished that 1 .° Was floed to give circulation to , ? e - , * ad no ri ^ht ments concernino-^ ln J ur mus stateeven if the char . c - anoth ‘ r person, In order ♦ " were true. thus introduced^n°F? p e r e s P<>nMbnity keepers h ave t ." '^ch law, houseT^mmen.lat ions” SUch late nur^Tto'my Hortense, The certificate is intended to bo taken in a contrary sense, and serves its purpose without laying the writer open to a suit lor damages. A ctill ...

A still more curious definition ot the principle of responsibility was laid down in a small German court not long ago. It was a civil damage suit, growing out of the breaking of a plate-glass window. One of the witnesses, who may be called X , testified as follows: “As I was passing along the street in front of the window I saw a big stone come whirling through the air. I did not know where it came from; I saw it coming through the air, and I had just time enough to duck my head to save myself from being hit by it.” The witness was questioned sharply upon the point that the stone which broke tjie window would have bit his head if he had not dodged it. and was then dismissed. The judgment of the court was as follows: “Inasmuch as, if the witness X had not unfortunately ducked hll head, the glass would not have been struck by the stone, he is hereby adjudged responsible for the breaking of • the window, and is ordered to pay to the owner the value of the same.” Gen. Hancock’s Grave. The memory of Gen. Winfield S. Hancock is dear to all his soldiers and to thousands who knew the heroic leader and noble man A gigantic bust of the “superb” Hancock, as lie was fitly called, will soon be unveiled in New York, in Hancock Square, One Hundred and Twentythird street and St Nicholas avenue. While it is pre-eminently right that thia tribute should be paid to him, something ought to be done to mark

the spot where his ashes rest, at Norristown, hisbirthplaee. A recent - IffirbMydies is a soMfatooking affair crumbling to decay. The stone of which it is built is soft saud«t one . there is no name to tell who sleeps within. Mr. Wilson MacDonald, the sculptor, who has executed the bust which is to be erected in New York, has made the offer iff a duplicate—a gigantic bronze bust, mounted upon a tine granite pedestal—to be placed in the public square of Norristown, but lie also offers a bronze copy of*tho original bust of Hancock, heroic size, mo ieled from life, and now in the New York Metropolitan Museum of Art in Central Park, to be placed over the tomb of Hancock, provided, however, that the tomb be repaired and the front faced with granite. The whole cost will not exceed $2,500, and of this sum SI,OOO is already assured. Mr. Percy Chain, of Norris, town, Pa., is the chairman of the local committee, and subscriptions can be sent to him or to Mr. Wilson MacDonald, sculptor,'l39 West Thirtysixth street, New York.—Philadelphia Ledger. Glass Paper. Glass paper is made by powdering glass (that with the greenish tint being considered the best), and sifting it through a very fine wire, sieve to separate the finest portion of the powder. This is used for the smoothThe remainder is then sifted sue cessively through sieves gradually increasing in coarseness to suit the different degrees of paper required, the result of each sifting being kept sep. erate. Good tough piper is then smoothed on both sides with pumicestone, after which it is tacked on a board. Some maunfacturers employ a tolerably line quality of muslin. The surface of the paper on muslin is given a coating of strong glue size, and the ylass of the required fineness is iin med iately dusted over it, equally and thoroughly, with the same sieve that was employed to separate it from the rest of the powdered glass. AVhen dry the surplus glass is thrown off for future use. Emery paper is prepared in the same manner, using emery in place of glass. “Winkers.” One of the employments of electricity just now is to make “winkers” to hang from high places. Thev are incandescent lights, hoisted on a flag-pole or run out from a window, and tLe current is interrupted and turned on again by clockworK me chanism. A man sees the light, thtto he notices that it is gone. While wondering what has become of ii> -« it reappears. This is supposed to rouse his interest to such an exi^st that he will ask somebody what it ia for, and the man who displays the light will then get an advertisement —if he has luck. The reason figures won’t lie is because they always stand for something. v. .