St. Joseph County Independent, Volume 19, Number 20, Walkerton, St. Joseph County, 2 December 1893 — Page 2

AT MB Jffl BERSELF. The Story of a Woman's Atonement, by Charlotte M. Braeme. CHAPTER XXl—Continued. “It seems to me, ” she thought, with b happy smile, “that even the flowers know he is coming. I am sure those rose are more fragrant, and the lilies more brilliant. I can see their golden hearts. ” She buried her face amid the cool, ^deep lily-cups—she was as one bewitched with the charm of her own happiness—until Lady Fanshawe, j struck by her manner, ventured to re- ; monstrate. “Dear Lady Charnleigh, are you not : wanting in that great charm of all i well-bred women —perfect repose?” Repose while the leaves were whispering to the summer wind, while the bees and butterflies coquetted with the flowers, while her own’ heart was beating with delight that knew no words, every pulse and nerve thrilling! Lady Charnleigh laughed aloud. r-— “I am not conducting myself as a ; countess should,” she said. “I had for- I gotten all about what you call the dig- ; nity of my position, auntie; I only’ re-| membered that I was, without exception, the happiest girl in the wide world. It is time to dress, Ethel,” she added, turning to Miss Dacre. “I want you to look bewitching—l want le beau sabreur to fall in love with you.” ! She spoke lightly and never saw the | death-like pallor that came over the ' sweet face. . | “He has done something of the kind ; already, Leonie, but it is with you, not with me.” “A fact •which would show that he had neither taste nor sense, if it were true,” laughed Lady Charnleigh. “Let ! me advise you as to what dress you should wear, Ethel. Stand quite still, and I will study you.” She made a pretty picture, standing with a studious expression on her face, her finger laid on her lips. She could not be silent for long. “What dreamy, poetic beauty yours is, Ethel! How strange that you should be so like the ‘Elaine’ we saw at the exhibition! The painter must have known you. ” “I do not think so,” said Miss Dacre. “You remind me of starlight, and—oh, Ethel, how beautiful the starlight is, how calm, serene, and holy, yet giving one a vivid.,idea of hidden fire!” “You began to speak of my dress,” observed Miss Dacre, patiently; “and you have already reached the stars. When will you be on earth again?” “I shall never’ behave like a countess. ‘A true lady of rank,’ says auntie, ‘should be known by her dignified silence and repose.’ Your dress, Ethel, must be black lace over white silk with silver flowers; you will personify starlight then.” But her own toilet was not so easily decided upon. That evening Lady Charnleigh was difficult to please. At last she chose a bewitching costume of pale sea-green silk, half covered with rich white lace, and looped up with white water-lilies; a small lily nestled in the coils of her fair hair; and with this dress, recherche and poetical, •“•“■‘Tjady Charnleigh wore a suit of magnificent emeralds. An hour later and Lady Charnleigh sat at the head of the table. Perhaps her servants wondered why for these two gentlemen she had ordered the service of gold plate, which was usually reserved for state occasions. She knew she would have paid to few others the honor she paid to. Sir Bertram. She had received him with gracious I words and kindly smiles; with them she sought to hide the vague, happy emotion that filled her heart. Paul Flemyng saw the bright blushes on the glad young face, and tried to believe they were for him. “You have some grand old pictures, 1 am told, Lady Charnleigh,” said Sir Bertram; “may I ask you to show them to me?” “Nothing would please me better,” she said; “after” dinner we will go through the gallery. Ethel, you are always talking of pictures—will you join us -with Capt. Flemyng? I like the gallery better than any part of Crown Leighton.” So after dinner they went. Lady Fanshawe declined to accompany th in. “You must know every picture well, considering the time you spend among them. Lady Charnleigh,” she said. And one or two of her hearers were quite as well pleased that she should remain where she was. Few private mansions in England could boa.-tof a picture gallery so magnificent as that of Crown Leighton. It was large, lofty ai d superbly decorated. In some places the walls are inlaid with mirrors; the ceilings had been painted by Le Brun; the windows formed deep bays that were carpeted with crimson cloth: and Sir Bertram, who had an artist’s eye for color, thought he had never seen a fairer picture than that of Lady Charnleigh, with her robes of green silk and lace I sweeping the floor. How well the ar-j tistic. picturesque dross suited her! | How royally beautiful she looked in those shining emeralds'. “You will be my cicerone,” he said. “I suppose Captain Flemyng knows all the glories of Crown Leighton.” The girl turned to the young soldier with a look of genuine frankness and regret on her face. “You t.re generous not to hate me,” she said, "when you see all that I have robbed you of.” “You have given me more than you have taken from me,"he returned; and both look and words were so much pain to Ethel Da r. e. There was no lack of conversation among the four; they were all art-lov-ers; they knew most of the world's famous pictures; they could criticise and compare. Leonie, Lady Charnleigh, showed perhaps the greatest and most cultivated taste. They lingered long in the gallery, while the western sunbeams came through the long windows and lighted up the gorgeous colors on the wall; they lingered us the young and happy do, with laughing words and bright, tender thoughts. They reached the end of the gallery at last, and came to a door half hidden by the velvet curtain that hung over it. “That is a room 1 have never yet entered.” said Lady Charnleigh; “shall we go in now?” “What is it? A boudoir —a study? It is just the place for an artist's studio, ” said Sir Bertram. “It was the favorite r. em of the late Lord Chai’nleigh,” observed the young

Countess. “Mrs. Fearon tells me he used to lock himself in there, and afterward come out locking so sad and sorrowful.” “The secret of such lives as his is always a tragedy,” said Paul Flemyng to Ethel. “I have often thought that the late lord of Crown Leighton had some sorrow the world knew nothing of.” ' It was Paul Flemyng who opened the ■ door, and Lady Charnleigh drew back ■ with a little shudder, the color fading j from her brilliant face. “1 have such a horrible fancy, ” she said, with a nervous attempt at laughter; “it is when I go in I shall find the ; late Earl sitting in his chair with stony ? face and set eyes.” I “You may enter safely, Lady Charn- I 1 leigh,” responded Paul; “the room is j quite empty. Yet it looked as though ; ' it had been recently used.” i “I gave orders that nothing here ' should be touched,” said the Countess; “It seemed a kind of desecration to enter the place. ” There was a book on the table, a table drawn near the fireplace, a paper i knife still resting on an uncut journal. | “How strangely silent the place is! ; How different from the rest of the ! house!” said Lady Charnleigh, with a i sigh. “Come away—l feel as though ; the room were haunted.” j She turned away, but her attention ' was drawn to Captain Flemyng. He ! was standing before picture apparently e grossed by- it. She called him by na is; he did not hear. She moved ! i .ward and touched him on the arm, I and was startled when he turned i round to find his eyes full of tears. She looked at the picture; it was of a young ! and beautiful girl, with sad, tender j eyes and a lovely mouth. A grave, ; noble face it was, with a veil of sadness | on it—a picture that had in it a certain , pathos. Underneath, in faint char- , acters, were written the words, “Loved j and Lost.” Lady Charnleigh looked first at the i picture, and then at the young soldier; ' there was a certain resemblance in the | features that struck her. “Who is it, Captain Flemyng?” she asked, in a low voice. “That is a porti ait of my mother,” he replied. “How comes it that it is hidI den away hero?” “ ‘Loved and lost,’ ” quoted Lady Charnleigh —“what decs it mean? Who loved and who lost her?” “I do not know,” replied Captain Flemyng. “Pray pardon me, Lady Charnleigh; I did not know that you had a picture of my mother. I loved her so dearly.” “Are you sure it is your mother?” she asked. “As sure as I am of mj r own existence; she always had the same sad, tender eyes, and when she smiled there was something sad in her smile. Those eyes have the same look now—do you not notice it?” Sii’ Bertram and Miss Dacre had joined them, and were listening to him in wonder. “A portrait of your mother here?” questioned Miss Dacre. “That seems strange, Captain Flemyng.” “I loved her so much,” he said again; “and she died when J was quite young. . Lady Charnleigh, will you grant me a great favor?” “You know I will before you ask it,” she replied. “Permit me to have this copied. It shall be most carefully preserved. “You shall have the original if you will, I shall be quite content with the copy. ” “You are very kind to me,” he said, “but I will not agree to that. You have a superstitious feeling about this room; I have the same about this picture. I should not like to take it away —it belongs to the room.” “ ‘Loved and lost!’ ” murmured the young countess. “What sorrowful words' There is a story contained in them—a sad story, too. What do they mean?” The brilliant tint had faded from her; she had grown very pale and sorrowful, the violet eyes were dim with tears —her whole aspect was changed. Sir Betram looked anxiously at her. “You are too imaginative, Lady Charnleigh,” he said. “Come away; you are growing sad and sorrowful. Come out into the sunshine. ” Without a word she followed him. They went through the corridor at the end of the gallery, out on the western terrace, where the flowers were all in brilliant bloom. Paul and Ethel followed them. There, where the sun shone and the song of the birds filled the perfumed air, Lady Charnleigh was scon herself again. The exquisite roseleaf flash stole back, the light came into her eyes. “I have an idea,” she said. “What do you think. Ethel? Shall we have a grand fete and ball hero at Crown Leighton, and illuminate these grounds and gardens—a fete that will last from sunset to sunrise, and delight everybody?” “I should like it very much,” responded Miss Dacre. The two gentlemen agreed with her. “Captain Flemyng and you, Sir Bertram, must come over to help me; it will be my first grand entertainment. Shall we begin with charades? I am so fond of charades; and we could get up such really magnificent ones. What do you say?” '— “It would be delightful,” said Sir Bertram, thinking of the rehearsals and the number of times that he should see Lady Charnleigh. “What a simple, charming nature she has!” remarked Sir Bertram to himself, with a smile. “She was weeping only a few minutes since, her heart full of pity; now she is laughing at the idea of a ball. She is a perfect Undine —half grave, half gay —half child, half woman—wholly charming. He raised his eyes in time to seo the green silk and white water-lilies vanish between the trees. “We may as well follow,” said Paul I lemyng. “Lady Charnleigh is all anxiety to put her scheme at cnce into train; she has gone without doubt to arrange the day for the ball. ” ggu CHAPTER XXII. “I really ought to inaugurate my ! reign by a grand festivity,” said Lady Charnleigh. “I like to do everything en reine; if I give a ball, it shall be one to be remembered.” i They were sitting in the drawing- > room, and the young countess looked • radiantly lovely by the light of the soft glowing lamp. They were discuss- ■ ing the great event. L “You have but to will and dictate,” sain Sir Bertram; “wo shall all bo ’ pleased to obey. ” “Suppose,” she continued, thoughtfully, “that we commence with a dini ner-party —no, that will not do—no one ; under forty cares about dinner, and

this party shall be for the young and light-hearted. We might beo-in with charades and tableaux—people always enjoy them; and then at ten o’clock we could have a grand procession to the ball-room, where we might dance until morning. What do you think of that f program, Ethel?” ; “It will be very pleasant,” said Miss Dacre. She had been watching the bright, animated expression on the girl's face, and the devoted attention of both gentlemen to her “How could/ I hope to charm while she is near?’’ she asked herself. “Sho is so lovely so gay; every moment develops a new charm in her. Compared with her I am as a moth beside a butterfly.” i Yet there was no envy in her heart; ! her admiration for the young countess was sincere and ardent; she did ’not know that there were people who would i have preferred her quiet, spirituelle . loveliness to tne radiant beauty of Lady Charnleigh. J “Well, that is agreed upon,” said the mistress of Crown Leighton. “We I must have some good tableaux and , some excellent charades; and we cani not do better than discuss now what, ; the tableaux shall bo. There are four . of us here —let us each suggest a sce^® from some great novel, poem, or plas“That is a wide field, Lady Cha£?leigh,” said Paul Flemyng; “there so many great poems and plays. ” gEL 1 “But we each have our favorites, can choose from them. Sir Bortrajk you shall have the first choice. Etnßl and I will heai’ what you gentleman suggest first.” r’ “1 think one of the plays I like ißst is the ‘Lady of Lyons,’ ” said Sir Blr-' tram; “mo could have a very effective ' : tableau from that, Lady Charnleigh —■ j i the scene where the pretended prince j ; describes his palace by the lake of I i Como. It is a lovely picture; the fair | i Paulina, with her golden hair falling , round her, listening with rapt atteni tion on her lover’s arm. You would make a beautiful Paulina, Lady Charnleigh.” “But who is to bo my prince?” she asked, with a blush and a smile. “I should Le most happy,” began Sir Bertram, but Paul Flemyng interrupted him. “The Prince m ist bo dark, and you are fair, Bertram. If you will permit me, Lady Charnleigh, I will place myself at your disposal.” She was disappointed, but smiled graciously. Captain Flemyng thought to himself that he had won a great Victory over his rival, for such he began to perceive Sir Bertram was. “Now it is your turn Captain Flemyng,” said the countess. “One of the most effective I over saw was a tableau representing Romeo and Juliet in a friar’s cell.” “Ethel shall be Juliet,” put in Lady i Charnleigh. “No,” said Miss Dacre; “Juliet was a bright, radiant beauty. You wtyld ■ look the character much better than I j should, Lady Charnleigh.” “Let it be so then,” returned the ! countess. “Who is to be my Romeo?” i “Romeo was fair,” said Sir Bertram, • quickly; “permit me to hold the distin- , guished office. Lady Charnleigh?” ■ She smiled to hide the happiness which the bare idea gave her. J “Those will be two good scenow she said. “Now, Ethel?” f “I am puzzled,” confessed Missl'acre; “there are so many gi yoemsy > “You remember the picture—of > Elaine, Ethel; nothing would sCJ you i so well as that. She was watching Sir | Lancelot ride away. You could assume j that expression of unutterable, hope- I less love: besides, your features resem- ; b’e Elaine’s as depicted on the canvas. %i Miss Dacre smiled. One observing ■ her keenly might have s< en how wist- ! fui and tinged with pain that smile ' was. “You will make mo believe that I am Elaine, if you talk so much to me of ; her, Leonie.” “Nay,” said Captain Flemyng, “it ' will never be your fate, Ethel, to die ' of a hopeless love.” The fair, spirituelle face grew a shade paler. “I ho; e not,” she rejoined, quiety. ! “It would boa terrible love that would make me lose my hold on life. It is your turn now, Leonie. What do you suggest? I think that I shall like to be Elaine.” I TO ,1E continued. | Age of Trees. Elm, 300 years; ivy, 335 years; maple, ' 516 years; larch, 576 years; orange, 630 years; cypress, 800 years; olive, 800 years; walnut, 900 * years; Oriental 5 plane, 1,000 years; lime, 1,100 years; spruce, 1,200 years; oak, 1,500 years; cedar, 2,0C0 years; yew, 3,200 years, j The way in which the ages of these trees have been ascertained leaves no i doubt of its correctness. In some few cases the data has been furnished by | historical recoids and by traditions, but the botanical arch geologists have a ; resource independent of either, and, ; when carefully m ed, infallible. Os all the forms of nature, trees alone disclose their ages candidly and freely. In the stems ot trees which have branches and leaves with netted veins —in all exogens, as the botanist would say— the increase takes place by means 1 mmuar dbpo^lt OI wood, spread in a i even layer upon the surtfee of the ; receding one. L . 1 In the earlier periods of lifo increase much faster than when cslult—the oak, for instance, grows mole rapidly between the twentieth and thirtieth years—and when old the annual deposits considerably diminish, so that the strata are thinner and the rings proportionately closer. Some trees slacken in rate of growth at a veryearly peril d of life, and layers of oak become thinner after 49, those of the elm after 50, those of the yew after GO. The Meerschaum Pipe Center. Vienna is the greatest center for meerschaum pipe carving, which has attained a very high artistic develop- i ment. The raw material comes in such odd shapes that much skill is exercised ; in obtaining from each piece a pipe that shall be as largo and as well : shaped as possible. The rough, block i is first soaked in water to make it soft, ' when it can bo cut as readily as cheese. After the carving is completed the final polishing is done by women with fine sand-paper and a kind of gfass. Women Who Have Their Rights. In this country 2,500 women are practicing medicine, 275 preaching the gospel, more than 6,000 managihg' postoflices, and over 3,000,000 earning independent incomes. Since 1880 the patent office has granted over 2,500 ■ patents to women, and in New York City 27,000 women support their husbands.

AREA WILL DECREASE PROBABLE RESULT OF THE DEPRESSED WHEAT MARKET. Foolish Terror of Speculators Caused by the Visible Supply—S6me Facts and Figures—Funeral of General Rusk—The Detroit Fire. Hope for the Bulls. wtieat trade according to the Chicago Post, is squatting in the shadow of a “visibio supply” of 77.000000 bushels—that is to say, that many bushels are “in sight” in the public warehouses at the present time, to say nothing of many more million bushels in private elevators. This great mountain of wheat, subject to the call of consumers, has driven every other consideration into the background. It has discouraged speculative investment and induced farmers to rush their surplus upon a reluctant and sorely pressed market as though fearful thev might not bo able to get anythino - for the grain unless they hurried. Producers aro panic-stricken, and durin<>the first twenty weeks of the current crop year, beginning July 1, a larger percentage of wheat has been shipped out of first hands than on any previous crop in the history of the grain trade. The wheat markets have been in the dumps all summer and fall, in spite of the fact of a short crop, and nothing seems able to lift them out of the slough. Yet when the current statistics bearing on the wheat trade are analyzed in cold blood and with, judicial ‘impartiality. they aro not particularly terrifying. At the beginning of the 1892 crop year, July 1, the visible supply was 24,262,000 bushels. Last July there were 62,316,000 bushels “in sight.” During the twenty weeks that have elapsed since the beginning of July the visible supply has increased 14,437,000 bushels; last year, for the corresponding period, the increase was 45,274,090 bushels. Owing to the fact that it started 38,000,000 lower down the scale than this year, the I aggregate on the corresponding date I a year ago was less than now, and j many who only look at the daily and ' weekly statements of stock;, not think- j Ing or caring to inquire further, im- : agine that there has been a deluge of grain and that the “visible” is likely to reach 190,000,000 bushels or more. Yet comparisons show that during the twenty weeks from July I to Nov. 17 the movei> nt of wheat from first hands, as gauged by the receipts at the leading Western points, aggregated 90,(X0,000 bushels, against 145,0W,000 bushels the corresponding twenty weeks of 1892, a decrease of 55,000,010 bushels. The next thirty days will determine I whether reserves aro in a bad state < f impoverishment. Farmers’ deliveries have already run down to small proportions. Prices at the present level aro raid by experts to be below the cost of production. People are not in the farming business to raise grain at a loss, any more than manufacturers are in industrial lines from philanthropic motives. Hence it is fqr a series of ’ years the area devoteu t 6 - „.,^ a j nrr of wheat in HilEcinuffrv”!iusl>ccn undergoing a proce s of gradual shrinkage. Shrinkage of Wheat Area. Tho wheat area of 1892 was 1,350,000 acres less than 1891 and the area of 1893 was further reduced 4,000,000 j acres. Advices from thousands of country c^ respondents in the great | ' Western States foreshadow another re-1 ' duetion, the acreage for U 94 being es--1 timated at 5 to 7 per c ;nt. less than this year. Farmers have cut down , their ‘ winter wheat acreage every- i where. Continued low prices until ' ; spring would be reflected in a dimin- । ! ished spring wheat breadth also, ac- ; i cording to the information of those in ; closest touch with the Li’eat Northwest. j The following tables compiled from j reports of the United States Depart- । ment of Agriculture show the relations | between low prices and decreased pro- ’ duction. They afford a fruitful sub- ! ■ ject for study and thoughtful consideration. The tables are: CHOP AND FARM PRICES. Average Year. Crop, bn. farm price. 18!>3 390,100,000 *53.0! 1892 516,000,000 63.2 I 1891 .612,000,000 85.3 I 1890 400,000,000 83.9 ‘ I 1889 490,000,000 69.8 ! 1888 4!4,W0,<X»0 92.6 : 1887 456,359,000 68.1 । 1886 457,218,000 68.7 , ♦Estimated. GRADUAL REDUCTION IN AREA. Spring Winter Total ; i Year. acreage. acreage. acreage. | 1893 11,84',000 22,784,000 34,624,0'0 ! I 1892 12,565,000 25,98'.>,000 38,554,000 I j 1891 13,336,000 26,581,0 0 39,917,000 ! I 1890 12,567,000 23,520,0 0 36,087,100 ' .1889 12,71!',0'0 25,385,(00 38,104,100 - 1888 13,283,000 23,954,000 37,237,000 ‘ 1887 ’3,419,000 21,223,000 37,642,000 i 1886 12,274,000 24,532,000 36,706,000 ' Unless signs fail the wheat area next ‘ year will not evceed 33,000,000 acres, ■ । which at the average rate of produc- : tion per acre would yield about 425,000,- : 000 bushels. Assuming that tho sur- ■ plus of this and former years will be ! run down to a low ebb by the begin--1 ning of another crop year, a crop of only 425,000,000 bushels would leave less than 75,000,000 bushels for export, or less than half the average of recent years. With diminished production the long down-trodden bulls feel that they would have a right to expect an inning. It has been a “powerful long time a-comin’. ” THURSTON” W!LL STAY. Not to Be Given His Passports by the State Department* It was stated at the State Depart- ' ment, says a Washington correspond- ! ent, that there was abundant ground ' for giving Minister Thurston his pass- , i ports. Minister Thurston, representmg the provisional government of Ha- ! I waii, caused to be published a reply to j I Blount’s report on the Hawaiian revo- ' i lution, and in the statement he pointed > : out that Mr. Blount did not sc*k his !; evidence, although frequently charg- ; ing him with being the leader of the ! revolution; he denies that United! States troops took part in tho over- I throw of the Queen; asserts that the i American troops did not land under : two days after the revolution broke I cut, and gives a complete history of the revolt that seems to show conclu- ! Sively that Blount was either misinformed as to the occurrences of the revolution or misrepresented the facts. It is claimed that his letter is a breach of diplomacy and amply suf- ! ficient to warrant this government in Immediately severing all relations with _

tne Hawaiian Minister. Such action would be taken but for the reason that the American people might not think it fair play; that the right of any man । to talk and give his side of a contro- [ yersy is always conceded, and that to ' , force Mr. Thurston to leave this conntry would be considered by the people 1 a disposition not to allow the other ' side a hearing. 4 — CRUSHED AND BURNED. Two Men Jump to Their Death In the Big j I ire in Detroit. One of the worst fires that Detroit 1 has had for many years completely de- 1 stroyed the five-story building at Jes- ' ferson avenue and Bates street occu- 1 pied by Edson, Moore & Co., whole- ; sale dry goods, and damaged several i adjacent buildings, causing a total loss ; i of s<oo,ooo. Three men employed by L the dry-goods firm lost their lives in the flames, and live others who are ' missing are also supposed to have perished. The fire started at 12:30 o'clock : and so quick were the flames that in half an hour the building was com- : pletely gutted. Practically only tho ’ iron front remains. The department ( fought with a fire which fairly defied onVb J h ° blaze was flrst seen I eonm >° vr v h /o orand looked as if it i could, be kept m subjection, but the flames spread as quickly as if the building were wood. It \al said to be fireproof. Long before the many engines re- ! sponded to the general alarm two men ; could be seen on the window sill of the j fifth story on the Bates street side of ! the building and a groan went up from ■ the crowd. Then there were shouts: i “Don't jump!” “Don't jump—there's ; help coming.” But even as those be- i low called tho flames 1 ehind them ad- : vanced and burst out around them. A ! bale of jute was procured by the spec- • tators and placed b -low the ivindow on which Bradley Dunning was perched. ' Driven by tho flames which roared , around him he sprang from the win- i dow and landed on the la'e. He i bounded off and fell to tho sidewalk, I where he lay limp and apparently life- । less. An ambulance carried him to the i hospital, where lie died soon after. By j this time the fiiemen who had arrived ; ' spread a mt to cal ch McKay, who fell ' into it. His injuries were such that he, : too, died scon after being taken ■ to a hospital. Hardly had this ’ double tragedy taken place than ! another man was seen near ; the upper window nearest the corner. : He was evidently nearly suffocated, for, i although he succeeded in reaching the i sill, his strength apparently gave out, ; and alter an effort to raise himself, one ! arm having been thrown over the sill, j he slowly sank back and disappeared from view, being swallowed up in the furnace behind him. He is thought to i have been Edward Genther. After tho fire the firm established ; temporary headquarters and opened a register. By comparing notes it became evident that Genther, Rider, , Voit, Markey, Baker, and Kirchner were missing. The firm's loss is $509,009, well insured. How the fire ignited is not known. The burned building I wa ; e ected twelve years ago at a cost of SIOO,OOO. The loss, which is tutal, was covered by $50,000 insurance. < Other bu iness places were damaged ' to tho extent of ■ssu.GOO. ' FUNERAL OF GEN? RUSK. Masons Knights Templars ami the Grand i Army Take l'art. On Thursday morning the family of Gen. Rusk surrounded his bier in the ■ parlor of the little farm house, near ; Viroqua. Wis., that was so long his : home, and in privacy listened to words of eulogy. At noon the remains were removed to the Methodist Church, | where they remained in state until : the funeral services proper at 2 p. m. 1 ■ Friday. The exercises were under the • ; Masonic auspices, with a Knight : ; Templar, Consistory and Grand Army ! ; escort. Si ecial train# brought dis- j i tinguished men from all over the ccun- ; I tryMany hundred messages expressing tender sympathy for the.bereaved fam- | ily wei e received, from such persons I \ as President Harrison, all the living J members of the cabinet. Gen. Fair- ; child. Gen. .Alger. Secretary Morton, Senators Vilas, Spooner, Sawyer, Cui- i lom and others in almost every city , and State in the United States. The body was laid to rest in the family lot । in the quiet little church yard. Notes of Current Events. Mrs. S. F. Hall, was burned to death j in a prairie fire near Chandler, Ok. Wheat and pasturage at Emporia, ' I Kan., received a much-needed heavy ; | rain. August Heilbhong, a wealthy i hardware merchant of San Francisco, I : is dead. Three Portland, < Ye., officials have । been indicted for failing to file semi- ' I annual i eports. । Figures in the hands of mint officers : i indicate that the year’s geld produc- : । tion will be $145,000,000. Denver was left in partial darkness by the strike of the electric light em- ! ployes against a reduction. Charges are made that a combina- j tion is being made to bottle up tho At- ’ lanta and West Point Road. Ramberger, the murderer of the seven Kreiders at Cando, N. D., coolly ; pleaded guilty to the crime. Indiana black coal operators have been in secret conference at Brazil with a view to forming a pool. Nine buildings, including the opera house and six stores, burned at Stark- I ville, Miss., with a loss of $75,000. The judgment against Wilson Howard to be hanged Dec. 29 for murder, was affirmed at Jefferson City, Mo. Permanent Republican headquarters will be established in Washington, : I D. C., with Joseph Manley in charge. ■ Henry D. Purcel was elected pres- I ; ident of the Michigan State Detective ; Association at a meeting held at Kalai mazoo. i Secretary Hayes, of the Knights । of Labor, says lie will defeat Master i Workman Powderly or wreck the । order. St. Paul, Minn., Aidermen passed . : an anti-pool room ordinance which also operates against progressive euchre ; I games. Directors of the Northern Pacific ; met in New York and resolved to re- i quest the resignation of Receiver > ; Oakes. Attempt was made to assassinate ; | W. O. Mackey, near Orrville, Ohio, by । i one Smith, a tramp. Macke.v was wounded. I

he loves dogs. 4. Brooklynite Who Has His Pets Buried in a Special Plot. Joseph A. Cross is a prosperous lumber dealer, who has a Urge yard nt 45 Classon avenue, gays the Brooklyn Citizen. Mr. Cross employes a good many men, who swear by him because of his big-heartedness. While making it a point to treat everything about him fairly, his special passion is for dumb animals. matter how humble the creature is, if it is in distress Mr. Cross’ big heart pours out to it, and he forms himself into a humane society on the spot and alleviates the misery of the suffering animal. Dogs are his special fancy. He has loved them and trained them ever since he was old enough to fondle one. Some of his friends say that his affection for canines reaches a perfect mania. His home and place of business at times are veritable dog hospitals, where all breeds and c nditions of man’s Lest friend are looked after, and oftimes restored to life and canine prosperity. In his love for dogs Mr. Cross does not overlook the less-attractive cat. He possesses a kind leelimr toward the humble feline that has frequently relieved it ot ■ the annoyance of having to dodge the ; flying bootjack and old shoe. Off in one corner of the lumter yard is a little spot that appeals like an oasis in the lumber desert. All through the last summer it was fresh and green while everything about it was brown, prosaic, and dismal. When a visitor enters the yard, he does not see this prett. little spot that seems so out of place in the midst of the ugly surroundings. It is off in one corner, carefully hidden from the view of the customers. A wire screen keeps it free from the chips and dirt that accumulate in the yard. Upon ciose inspe tion we find it to contain little green mounds, overgrown with tine grass and set off by bright flowers. At the head ot each grave is a little marble headstone. “Could Mr. Cross have buried two of his childien n this out-of-way place?” is the question that instinctively conies co one’s mind. A closer inspection discovers that the little green mounds are over the remains of two dumb friends of Mr. Cross’ children. The stones tell us that “Carlo and Jack died in 1888,” and that “they were faithful and true.” Carlo and Jack were two Newfoundland dogs that looked after Mr. Cross’ l.ttle ones for years. They were taken when puppies and reared into honest and respectable dogs. Finally when old age overtook them and death followed, their sympathetic master had them buried with honors such as few dogs ever realized in their latter end. Mr. Cross’ children took their death so to heart and so tearfully insisted on their old friends being properly this little gra A man looks after these little green mounds as carefully as if the occupants were human. “In their instincts Carlo and Jack were often more humane than lots ol people,” said then owner sadly. “They never hurt anything in all their lives,and are worthy of a costly monument as a tribute to their fidelity. Some day I may erect a shaft with a fuller account of their virtues : inscribed upon it.” Not si Tyrant. It is truly annoying, to a plain every-day citizen, to have his indisi putable rights infringed upon by a great personage. It is easy to understand the state of mind of the hungry traveler confronted by pomp and power, as is related in this true story; i Tired and hungry, a traveler whom we ma> call Mr. Smith entered a village inn and ordered a roast chicken. He sat down by the fire and too^ great comfort in watching the fowl roasting on the spit and in thinking how fine the flavor would be. It was nearly done, when a strange-looking individual entered the kitchen. His costume was ecc ntric, but it wasundoubtedly that of a great personage. To the innkeeper he said with an impatient, and as it seemed to hungry Mr. Smith, an insufferably haughty air, “Well, William, will I that chicken be roasted soon?” i “Sir,” cried Mr. Smith sternly, i “that chicken is mine. 1 ordered it i before \ou.” “What is that to me?” said the ■! personage harshly. I “What is that to you!” cried Mr. I Smith, faint with hunger and just . ind gnation. Then the intruder spoke again and more gently. He said, “You see, sir, 1 want the turn-spit chain to comi plete my costume. I am going to rep:esent the Black Prince in an entertainment at the Town Hall this evening.” Bricks and Tar. It is stated that ordinary bricks ' boiled in tar for about twelve hours, or until they are saturated with it are increased about thirty per cent, in weight, are much harder than common ones and unaffected by frost and acids as well as perfectly waterproof. , They form an excellent flooring for workshops or storerooms, particularly in chemical establishments. i Smoke Combustion. In Berlin an inventor has succeedi ed in devising a means for insuring a ■ complete combustion without the 1 emission of smoke, and his method ■ has, on repeated tests, proved so satisfactory that two of* the most irn- ! portant shipping companies of Ger- ! many have decided or. adapting it to ( their steamers. i Ie you receive an annonymous leti ter don’t regard.your enemies withsus- : picion. Watch vour friends. A man who -.uspects nothing has no intuitions.