St. Joseph County Independent, Volume 19, Number 21, Walkerton, St. Joseph County, 9 December 1893 — Page 7

AT W MTU HEMU. The Story of a Woman's Atonement, by Charlotte M. Braeme. CHAPTER XXll—Continued. “1 quite expect you will be shocked Bt me,” said Lady Charnleigh; “but if I am anything at all upon the stage I will be a queen—nothing less. I would like very much to wear a queen’s crown and hear myself called 'your majesty,’ were it only in fun, as the children say. I will be Marie Stuart, Queen of Scotland, and the tableau shall be a room at Holyrood, with the Queen seated, listening to Rizzio.” “May I be Rizzio?” asked Sir Bertram. “No,” she replied, the beautiful face growing grave in a moment —“he was 7 killed.” J “Then you do not care whether lam ? killed or not?” interposed le beau sabreur. “I did not • say so, Captain Flemyng, ” replied the fair coquette. “You shall be Rizzio; you shall sit and look at me as though 1 were indeed your queen. Now we have four good tableaux.” To herself she said, “It is more tiresome to have two lovers than none. How shall I manage to keep peace between them much longer? A scene from ‘The Rival Lovers’would fit them exactly.” “Let us copy the‘Black Brunswicker, ” she resumed, aloud; “that will make the most beautiful picture of all, Captain Flemyng. You could be the hero, and Ethel your love; you will do that excellently. Ethel, you remember the attitude of the girl in the picture. She clings to her lover with sudden fear, half-despairing fondness, and yet, it seems to me, with somewhat of pride i that he so promptly obeys the call to arms. You can look all that.” “I could look proud of the bravery of • any one I loved, ” confessed Miss Dacre. “We might have a scene from ‘Faust ! and Marguerite,’ ” put in Sir Bertram. “Yes, the one from the ‘Bride of Lammermoor,’ ” added Lady Charn- i leigh, “and that, 1 think, will be suffl- ! cient. Shall we ask Beatrice Thornton I to join us? She is a magnificent brunette, and will make a variety; w© can find some good scenes for her. Sir Bertram, she must accompany you; you will make an excellent contrast; she is dark, with eyes ‘as black as midnight,’ •and hair like a dusky cloud.” Sir Bertram looked up uneasily. “Do you like such contrasts?” he asked. “I thought harmony was prefarable. ” “No—a dark-ha_red lady should marry a fair-haired Saxon,” she replied, mischievously. Captain Flemyug’s face brightened, while Sir Bertram looked considerably depressed. Ethel Dacre admired the perfect balance she kept between them; the most consummate coquette could not have done better. “What a glorious evening we shall have'” said Lady Charnleigh. “I shall hardly have patience to wait until the times comes. What a beautiful world it is! How fair life is and hew happy we are!” ■fcjj^Miethought looking- round her, m^BEious that the Tie art of the ue —rtf! gentle girl beside her was almost broken with the smart ot her hopeless love, and that Captain Flemyng was half mad with jealousy—Sir Bertram happy and without care. A coolness came between the two who hal been such close friends; they said nothing, but the intimate friendship, the near and dear companionship was at an end. A woman’s fair face had c;:mo between them: they bo'h loved the young Countess, and were each conscious of the other’s love^ She was not cne to be 1 ived lightly; there was that indescribable charm about her that lured a man’s heart from him and gave him no peace. Those who loved her did so with no mean affection; the fair land of England did not hold two nobler men than Sir Berti am Gordon and Captain Flemyng: they were of different types, dis- j ferent characters, but each in his own ; way somewhat approached perfection; ' even their faults sprung from virtues. • Paul Flemyng was pioud, but his pride i sprung more from an innate nobility of soul which -was intolerant of anything | mean than from over-appreciation of . himself. Sir Bertram was jealous, but his jealousy, sprang rather from his intense love than from weak suspicion. He struggled hard with himself. Paul loved her —he felt sure of that—■and Paul had already lost thatmagnifi- j cent inheritance of Crown Leighton; was he also to lose his love? Then he thought that such a fancy ■ Was overstrained and morbid, that i Lady Charnleigh was free to be won, j and that they were free to win her; let the one who loved best win. He resolved to take the first opportunity of telling her of his love, and asking her her to be his wife. “I wish she were poor,” he thought, “that I might prove my love by placing what little I possess at her feet, or that I -were a king, that I might ask her to share my throne. I wish she were not a countess and a great heiress; yet she will know I love her for her own sake, and not for what she has.” After the dinner-party, when Lady Charnleigh had decided what was to be attempted in the way of a grand entertainment, the two gentlemen seldom allowed a day to pass without riding , over to Crown Leighton—they had al- • ways some proper and legitimate ex- I cuse. At one time it was about rehearsals for the charades, or a question about the ball, at another a question concerning invitations. Sir Bertram, having no military duties, had an advantage over his friend; he could ride over in the morning, and Lady Fanshawe always invited him to stay to luncheon: and then he lingered until it was impossible to get back to Weildon in time for dinner. Lady Fanshawe began to see that there was more of design than of accident in this. “I used to fancy it would be Captain Flemyng,” she said to herself; “but I have a suspicion that Leonie will be Lady Gordon after all.” The young countess herself began to have a kind of conviction that Sir Bertram Gordon would never feel happy away from Crown Leighton. Perhaps it was the welcome certainty that made her treat.him with such coy, sweet reserve. Ho could never find her alone >—Miss Dacre or Lady Fanshawe was always with her. He exhausted his ingenuity t in finding excuses to take her from them, but she invariably defeated his purpose. Perhaps she fished to enjoy to its full extent that

which is the happiest time in a woman’s life —when she knows that she is loved, but no word of that love has been spoken. ______ CHAPTER XXIII. There was grea^ excitement in the county when the invitations for Lady Charnleigh's ball were sent out. “That was just as it should he.” people said. “Crown Leighton had always been the ' center of hospitality; old times were being renewed. ” Tradespeople in the I quiet little town of Weildon wore more 1 . cheerful faces; it made all the differ- • 1 ence in the world to them whether । ! Crown Leighton was tenanted or not. , , Rumor told of the wonderful prepaira- [ tions that were being made. In the , western wing, among the state-rooms, was a large and magnificent ball-room. . By Lady Charnleigh’s orders a large conservatory had been added to it, and , now she desired that one of the state i saloons adjoining should ba transformed into a theater. “I like theatricals,” she said, when • Lady Fanshawe made some slight remonstrances. “I may just as well have ' a theater now as in a year's time. I shall often have charade parties, and I intend the stage to be a perfect little bijou. I may just as well amuse, myself in this way as in others, auntie.” Lady Fanshawe yielded, knowing how true her words were. “That life cannot be a very worthy one, Ldonio, whose only business is amusement. ” “There will be time enough for grayer thoughts when I grow older,” said the girl. “Let me enjoy my youth. Sir Bertram took great interest in ; the erection of the theater; he was able to suggest many improvements ■ which would never have occurred to one so inexperienced as Lady Charn- ■ leigh. She watched the progress of the alterations with great attention. j “What happy hours wo shall spend here!” she said to Miss Dacre, one i morning. “I do not think any country ! house without a theater can be called ! complete.” Miss Dacre made some polite reply, and then looked up in surprise, for Lady Charnleigh's clear, soft, musical j laugh rang through the room. ! “I was just thinking, Ethel, that I I spoke as though I had been a countess all my life. I never saw a country j house until a year ago.” I Contrast between the past and pres- ; ent often amused her for a few min- ! utes, and then her heart would give a great bound of satisfaction at remembering how brilliant and beautiful the present was. “Here is Sir Bertram,” said Ethol, one morning, as she stood at the window of the breakfast-room. “I should fancy his horse knows the way to Crown Leighton. ” They had just risen from the breakfast table; a most significant smile crossed Lady Fanshaw’s face, while Lady Charnleigh turned away lest her vivid blushes should be seen. Ethel went after her. “Leonie, here is Sir Bertram.” “He is very welcome.” said the young heiress, with serene composure. “So I imagine,” rejoined Ethel, with a smile. Lady Charnleigh was obliged to look up when he entered the room, and on her lover's face the girl read a look of determinat ou: sho knew at once that her trifling was at an end, that she could put him off no longer, that ho had come that day expressly to be heard, and that she must hear him. She read all this in a hundred different ways. The proud heal was thrown back with more kingly grace and dignity, the frank, handsome face was determined, the eyes were grave and calm. Leonie, Lady Charnleigh, would trifle with her lover no more. She watched him as he crossed the room to speak to Lady Fanshawe. Hev handsome ho looked—a grand Saxon king, so proud, so frank, so different^ from everyone else—and he loved her! Her heart beat when he came to her and said: “Lady Charnleigh, I have come over to see you to-day for a very special ! reason; you will find five minutes for 1 me. I hope?” “Certainly,” she replied, and sho proi ceeded at once to make such arrangei meats as would keep Ethel near her. ! The light of her happiness dazzled her I —the moment she had longed for, yet 1 dreaded, had come, and she would fain I have delayed it; her emotion frightI ened her—she was glad with a happi- j ness that almost terrified her. First of all she asked him to go with ' Miss Dacre to see how the theater was j progressing: gravely and courteously I I he obeyed her, but his eyes, as they ! I lingered on her, said: “Do not think to i | escape me—you must hear what I have ' I to say.” Then she was invisible until the bell I ' rang for luncheon, when she entered the dining-room with a serene, smiling I face, as though she had never thought of such a thing as driving a lover to distraction. After luncheon visitors came, and, though she might have dismissed them, she lingered talking to them and showing her new conservatories, until Si* Bertram almost lost patience. The bell rang for dinner, and yet. he had said no word to her. As he went through the hall he said: “Lady Charnleigh, pray remember that you have given me your promise for a five minutes’ interview; do not forget.” She had not forgotten; sho had simply not dared to look at the gleam of i sunlight that had fallen at her feet, j Her eyes drooped, a lovely blush overj spread her face, her lip quivered slightly. “1 will try to remember,” she said. So he waited patiently through the long hour of dinner. In all his after I life he never forgot how lovely she then j looked. She never met his dance when |he spoke to her a color like the blush ; of a damask rose flushed her face; she I never voluntarily addressed him, yet jhe felt no fear. He had once admired j a dress of pale blue silk profusely trimmed with rich whit; lace, and she । wore it this evening. He had admired | her most when the rich golden-brown i hair lay in shining abundance on her I graceful shoulders, and this evening it was dressed in the fa hion he admired. Sho wore also a suite of magnificent pearls, worth a king's ransom. The shy, half-timid manner was something new, and it enhanced her beauty as the presence of moss improves the beauty of the rose. Dinner was over at length, and Sir Bertram quickly followed the ladies into the drawing-room; the young Countess’ heart gave a great bound, the golden light grew more dazzling. She must look at It soon. The evening was more than beautiful. The sunbeams were warm and

' bright, the western wind was filled ' with the fragrant breath of a thousand flowers, while magnolias yielded their rare odor, and the queenly roses, and the tall, stately lilies gleamed in the sunlight; the birds were singing, and I the water from the fountains fell with musical ripple more beautiful than any other earthly sound. Lady Charnleigh had gone to the piano, Sir Bertram followed her. . . “Lady Charleigh,” he said,“do not the fragrance and beauty outside tempt you? Will you come' and hear what the birds are singing about?” He fancied he had left no loop-hole of escape; but she said: “Yes, with pleasure; the grounds are much more pleasant than these warm rooms. Ethel, will you join us?” And Miss Dacre, all unconscious of Sir Bertram's plans, stood up; but he was determined—Lady Charnleigh had trifled with him for the last time. He went up to Miss Dacre, his frank face gravel’ than she had ever seen it. “Dear Miss Dacre,” he said, in a low voice, “will you kindly decline Lady Charnleigh’s' invitation? I want to speak to her alone. ” Ethel laughed. “Most certainly I will, Sir Bertram. Lady Charnleigh,” she added, “I will finish my book, I think, and join you in the grounds afterward.” The Countess of Charnleigh and Sir Bertram Gordon went through the long window that opened on to the lawn. The fair earth seemed to ber" flushed with color and beauty. Close to them was a rosery, where roses of every kind were in full bloom; behind them the pale lilies stood in great sheaves, and magnolias raised their stately heads, and a grove of flowering limes led to the woods. The sun shone and the birds sang, but never a word did she utter. He walked in silence by her side until they had reached a secluded spot, and then he said: “How cruel you have been to me, Lady Charnleigh! How you have tortured me! Y< u must have known how long I have be n waiting to say a few words to you.” “I am not fond of either cruelty or of torture,” returned the fair countess, evasively. "Indo, d, you must bo. You must have read my heart's desire on my face; you must ku >w that I love you so dearly that my love is eating ray very life away yet you would not give mo a chance to t 11 you: you have tortured me, Lady Charnleign, and you know it; now you must bo additionally kind to atone for it. Leonie, I want to tell vou something.” He t ok her hand in his, and she made no attempt to elude that firm grasp. “Come here,” he said, and he led her to a mossy bank. “Oh, Leonie, when a man's heart is quite full, it is very hard to find words.” She sat down, wondering whether the world held < ther joy so great as hers; wondering whether other lives had been so supremely blessed. Sir Bertram half sat, half knelt at her feet. “Leonie, I want to tell that I love you; that I have loved you from the first moment I saw you. I want to tell you that my life is in your hands; that I love you with an affection so mighty in its strength, so powerful, that my I who'e life is merged in it. I am'bfldj to tell you so, sweet. I know thnTTaFf better men than 1 have knelt at your feet to ask for the priceless gift of your love, but no one can love you as 1 do, Leonie. Will you truM your life tome, my queen? I will make it as happy as a summer dream.” Sho listened to him. her heart beating fast, every pulse swelling with strange, new-born gladness, but she ma le no reply. [to be continued.) OCCUPATION AND AGE. Some Intercst.mj Figures of the Connection Between the Two. During the pa t thirty-four years and eight months there died in Massachusetts 161,H)1 m n over 0 years of age, whose occupation-^ wen specified in the : registry of their dceea-o. Farmers at- i tained the high W age, 65- years, and | made up one-fifth of the total number. I The class next t > the farmers iu the ! average of life L that class called “active mechanics abrt ad.” such as j brickmak rs, carpenters, masons, tan- i ners, millwrights, riggers, calkers, '■ • slaters, and stonecutters, buttheaver- I I age age of 12.0 -0 of them who died in i j Massachusetts during the period men- 1 | tioned was only about 52, years, a little I I over a year more than the average of : i all classes together. Next to the active mechanics come the professional men, whose average age of death was over 51. Os this class the longest-lived we e the judges and I justices. They lived on the average 64 years, and led all the trades and professions except the farmers. In some countries clergymen are longest-lived, but in Massachusetts the average age of the 1,100 of them who died during thirty-four years was only : a little above 59. Os the professional men, those set down as students died at the earliest age, the average being-f oniv about 23 then came the professors, well over 57 years; then the lawyers, 5u years; then the physicians, over 53 years; public officers, 55. Sheriffs, constables, and policemen died at the average age of 53, while editors and reporters wore gathered into the tomb before they completed their 47th year. The lives of comedians were also short, hardly reaching 39 years on the average, and dentists were cut down at the ; average age of 42. The artists alsq ; died early, their average age being 44 I years. The musicians lived only to 42, and the teachers died at about the sama age. The shortest-lived were the telegraphers, who died at the average ago of 28. Clerks and bookkeepers also I died early, at the age of 33. Railroad I agents and conductors departed this • life on the average at about forty years, i and druggists and apothecaries at 42, i while saloon and restaurant keepers । were put to fl*hal rest at 41. Next in [ order came the active mechanics in | shops and the laborers of no special trades, the average of both being a little short of 48. Os the first class the longest-lived were the coopers, their average ago at death being about 59 ■ । years. Next to them came the dis- ' tillers, 58 years. Queer Freak of a Nail. T. T. 8011, of Independence, Mo., i while chopping down a large walnut I tree a few days ago, found a tenpenny nail ten inches beneath the surfaced ! Mr. Bell says he remembers driving it; there while fixing a swing at the ba- j ginning of the war—thirty years ago. '

the SUNDAY SCHOOL. SERIOUS SUBJECTS CAREFULLY • CONSIDERED. A Scholarly Exposition of the Lesson— Thoughts Worthy of Calm Reflection— Half an Hour’s Study of the Scriptures— i Time Well Spent. The Heavenly Inheritance. The lesson for Sunday, Dec. 10, may : be ftund in 1 Pet. 1:1-12. INTRODUCTORY. Gocd paths for pUgrim feet, good ■ comfort for the Lord's sojourners. Here I wc are. a company of G< d s elect in a 1 naughty world. Be of good cheer, God j holds me in mind. “Fear not, little i fleck, for it is your Father's good pleas- • ure to give you the kingdom.” What I joy this lesson ought to produce every- ; where! Indeed, it seems to us. it ought to be the beginning of revival blessings ; in all our schools. God is for us, who : is he that is against us? Never mind, ' or rather b’ess Ged for it.an l rejoice I in tribulation. “Knowing that ; tribulation worketh patience, and , Kee experience, and experi- | hop?, and hope maketh hamed.” Why? Because the love i is shed abroad in our hearts by )ly Ghcst which is given unto The foretas!e, already given us, i the blessed fullness: f joy which ours at the last. “In the name God we will set up banners,” here, now. POINTS IN THE LESSON. “Peter, an apostle,” i. e., sent, cheer up, little flock. God sends royal messenger to you: hear him. “Strangers,” the word “elect” should be added as in the Revision: elect so iourners. They were exiles-perhaps in the eyes of the world but elect in the sight of Ged. So gees the Christian through this world, “a pilgrim and a stranger,” saying, • heaven is my home.” The word “scattered” is litet ally of the dispersion, and refers probably to the great Babylonian captivity, when the Jews were distributed to so large an extent over th > < ast-rn ] ortion of the habitable globe. Asia Minor held a great number of them, from whence they probably cune to the Pentecost when the Holy Spit it descended. These, then, were Peter s children. “Elect according to the free knowledge of Gol,”is comforting, but more closely read, there is larger and deeper consolation still. Th word “elect” belongs really, as before int’mated, to the first verse above: e’ect strangers. The word “according, ” which prop'rly opens the verse, leers tie tn to the whole of the j.reecding address. They ware not only “ele< t but “scattered” according to God's for e-kn wledge. Afflictions are of God's good will. Behind a frowning Providence He hides a sini'.iu^ face. “Best wishes” we say in correspondence. So does Peter: only he expresses these wishes, the best conceivable, “grace unto you and peace be multiplied.” This has reference both to I what goes before and what follows. As resu^cts what, ha preceded, multiplied aruTmu 11i] li।• d j>eaee are involved iu the call of the Christian and his sanctification. We are elected to this end. With reference to that v. hich succeeds, grace and peace are capable of infinite multiplicati m: and, raised to their highest pow r, they signify the glory of the heavenly inheritance. Salvation already! Such is the full significance of the “salvation ready.” It is not so much “salvation, ready to be revealed” as a ready salvation, to be revealed. The great redemption is ready now, ready and prepared for our faith. At the last day it shall simply be thrown conspicuously oj'en to all eyes, when we that are h s appear with him in glory. God highly estimates the life here. For notice it is not simply the gold that is precious (v. 7 but the “trial of your faith.” God sets J g-reat store by these experiences of I ours: he is bringing us up through ' great tribulations to our e-tate in the ; heavens. Let us glory then in tribu- ■ lations also. It has to do with the ul- ; tiinate inheritance. HINTS AND ILLUSTRATIONS. I Make this lesson a lesson of power. ' Let the liberty of the Spiiit have full | sway, and give the heart a chance to j tell its joy in Christ. Are you a child :of the King? Rejoice in him, lift up । banners and triumph already in his salvation. Be glad in the Lord. Why not a praise-meeting in the midst o's the Sun lay school? Have we not good reason to shout for joy? We are saved men, saved, already saved with an everlasting salvation! Praise him for it, “whom having not seen, yc love; in whom though now ye see him not, yet believing, ye rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory.” That means full of heaven. Heaven anticipated through faith. Let the Sunday school ’ (-Alay be a little fore-glimpse of ^^ven. •^Unspeakable” is it. Then sing I I cannot tell how precious * The Saviour is to me. I only can entreat yon To come and taste and see. Build a bridge on the blackboard, or you can do it in a word picture—the bridge of faith. “Receiving the end of your faith, even the salvation of your souls.” “Salvation,” in its ccmpletei ness of joy, that lias on the other side, i “Receiving,” that is the approaval on ; this side. Faith is the plank between. ! Receiving here —the end there. That means faith. And faith means glory. Who was it said it “Storms ; re wonderful preachers?” He was speaking of a tempest on Lake Erie, on which seme modern Jonah fleeing from duty and God, was brought back to the way of righteousness. Who has not experienced it?—“Thou hast enlarged me when I was in distress” i. e., in straits. “This is the Lord's doing, and it is marvelous in our eyes. ” Next Lesson —“The Glorified Saviour. Rev. 1: 9-20. Two Hoboken policemen have been sued by a saloonkeeper for neglecting to contribute to the “kitty” when they i held aces up or better in poker games in his saloon, and also for omitting to settle the score for drinks. If the saloonkeeper wins his suit, will the ; verdict establish the legal principle, ■ that ] olicemen ought invariably to • i do such things? j Deal gently unless y'ou wish to i break up the game.

SKMMsmaaMSHNßssKsmKEawawMßßanßwnDfWOTra AN ENGINEER'S LIFE. The Story of Three Hours on the “Chicago । Flyer.” i The “Chicago Fiver.” which cpv&rs the nine Hundred and sixty-four miles . between New York and Chicago in ' twenty hours, including nine stops, i is pulled by seven huge engines in re- . lays, driven by seven engineers in i succession. From an article, in McClure’s Magazine we condense the i following: I a run of less than one hundred and : fifty miles is the limit per day for , each engine, while three hours of the l plunging rush wears out the strongest ; engineer. Sixty, seventy, eighty । miles an hour—what does that mean . to the man at the throttle? It means • that the six and a half feet drivers ■ turn flve times every second and adi vance one hundred feet. Tic-tic-tic, ’ and the train has run the length of j New York’s highest steeple. The ' engineer turns his head for five sec- ’ ends to look at the gauges, and in ; that time the terrible creature, put- ! ting forth the strength of a thousand horses, may have shot past a I red s goal with its danger warning ■ five hundred feet away. Not only ! must he note instantly all that is bc- ! fore him, the signals, switches, , bridges, the passing trains and the condition of the rails, but he must I act at the same moment, working • throttle, air-brakes or reversing lever, : not as quick as thought, but quicker, for there is no time to think. His ' muscles must do the right thing ■ automatically under ciruiustan es ! where a second is an age. : In addition to this constant men- | ta! tension the engineer on this hurling train has to endure material dis- ' comfort, o ten 1 oaily suffering. The I air sweeps back in his face with the breath of a hurricane, blowing smoke ! and cinders into his eyes. Most people know the intense pain a cinder causes In a man’s eye, particularly a hot cinder. The suffering is almost unbearable, and yet. suffering or no suffering, th ■ engineer who gets a cinder in his eye can have no relief until the end of bis relay. “It seems as if nothing would rest my eyes’ sir,” said one of the new men after his first week on the flyer. No wonder the eyesight of engineers fails rapidly; no wonder many of them are removed from their positions every year because the examining doctors find them unable to distinguish the signals The engineer suers also from the plunging and tossing of the monster locomotive, which bruises his whole body’ with its violent rocking, and causes sharp pains in the back, particularly where there is any tendency to kidney trouble. One has only to watch these strong men as they stumble down from their engines at the end of a relay, has only to observe their condition of ph steal collapse which follows, to understand what it costs in vitality and grit to drive a fast engine. Thus it is while the New Yorker gets to < hicago with scarcely more discomfort than if he had remained at home, the same journey wears out ! seven engineers, all picked men: for ; many of them who have seen years of ' service on trains running forty miles an hour break down ent rely when put upon the flyer. So exhausted are these seven engineers by their comparatively short relays that they are obliged to la. off entirely during the following day to recover from the shock. They do not even take the oypoffte bound liver back over their stretch, but return with their engines to their respective starting | points drawing slower trains. Thus ! seven strong men do two days’ work every time the flyer runs from New ’ York to Chicago, and seven other men do two days’ work every time it runs back. Each engineer works three hours on the “flyer,” returns home on an easy train, and then rests forty hours before his muscles and nerves and brain are in condition to ■ repeat the operation. — Bank of France Notes. The life of a Dank of France note is about two years, it being issued so I long as it is usable. In the matter of destroying their notes set apart for cancellation, a new departure has i been made by the Dank of France. The former practice was to incar- । cerate their doomed notes for three ' years in a large oak chest before submitting them to conflagration. The:eupon, a huge fire was set aflame in an open court; the notes were thrown into a sort of revolving wire cage, which was kept rotating over the fire, and the minute particles of note-ash escaped into the air through the meshes of the cage and darkened the atmosphere all around. The burnings took place, daily, and were !of a certain amount Now, the practice,is to have about twenty can- , cellations of notes each year, at un I certain times, and as the needs of the service determine. I A hole is punched in each of the j notes, which are also stamped as follows- “Canceled the by the i branch at , or the Head Office of the Bank of France.” The notes are then marked off in the registers of bank notes issued, according to I their numbers and descriptions. A I committee of the bank directors are j ' present at their destruction. The j I canceled notes are no longer burned, ' i but are now reduced into pulp by ■ means of chemical agents. Each destruction of notes averages 1 ; about- 00,000 of all kinds, and about i ' 12,000,000 notes are annually de- | stroyed. The Bank of France has ! been little troubled of late with forgeries. The greatest forger it । sver had was deported to Cayenne, ■ and in attempting to escape got ! stuck in a swamp and was eaten to Heath by crabs. —Chamber’s Journal. , j E . ery time a woman goes to an- ; Mher woman’s house, and delays her in getting dinner, she gets her in trouble.

HUSTLING HOOSIERS. ITEMS GATHERED FROM OVER THE STATEAn Interesting: Summary of the More Im. portant Doings of Our Neighbors—Weddings and Deat! j—Crimes, Casualties, and General Indh.ua N.-ws Notes. Terrible Explosion at Elwood. At Ellwood occurred the mest terrific . gas explosion ever known in that city. The scene of the explosion was at the plant of the Electric Light and Streetcar Power Cominny. The gas had accumulated under the floor, and without a moment's warning an explosion took place, wrecking the building and hurling the se lions in all directions. One portion of ti e structure crashed through the street car barn, situated alongside the power bouse, and also partially demolish ed the office of the Citizens’ Gas Company near by. The , ponderous engine and dynamos were lifted from the floor and hurled across the room, every inch of floor being torn from the sleepers and hurled into the air. together with the sides and roof, which then fell among the dismantled machinery, burying foui^^l^ in the ruins. lives. The injured are: O. B. Frazier, face and hands burned and badly bruts d. Lewis Shively face and hands cut with flying debris. David Thompkins, injured aliout head and body. Joseph MeMal in. several gashes in head, face, hands and tody. All were in the building at the time of the explosion except Shively, whe had only the moment be ore stepped outside. Miss Minnie Mitchell and Bert Carpenter, who were emj loyed I at the Citizens’ Gas Company's office. । had a narrow escape from the flying ; slate and timbers. McMahan was i blown clear out of the wreck over into I an alley, and when found was uni conscious. Physicians pronounce the : men seriously bit n t fatally hurt. Mino: State Items. I Muncie i- to have another company I of State militia , Geo. Jordan, a Cambridge City blacksmith, suicided by shooting- him- , self. Despondent because of poverty. Dick Goodman, lender of a notorious gang and who w; s shot while attempting to rob a store, is dying at his home at Dundee. William Halfin, an employe of the American tin-plate factory at Anderson. had his aria badly cut and burned ' In an accident. At Marion. William Mendenhall 1 was thrown fro n a buggy during a runaway, and injured, it is feared, beyond recovery. Mrs. Perry Laymen, who lives in ; I the oil field eight miles north of Port- । ! lan.l. was fatally burned while kindling a fire with coal oil. A southern Indiana paper missed publication one day lately Ijeeause the editor's wife, who did the typesetting, had gone away on a visit. Herman Uphaus of Richmond, is in a dangerous < onditi >n from a drink ol_ embalming fluid, which he took from a . supposed wine cask in his cellar. Peru city officials are beginning war j on the "Wabash strawboard works for ! emptying refuse into the river from which the city's water supply is taken.» A SAD case of destitution came to light at Muncie recently. A woman 1 with seven children is trying to feed ( them all on the paltry sum of 81.25’ a week and they are nearly starved. । Two burglars ransacked John , Grondahl's house, near Chesterton, and carried away a lot of jewelry and valuable notes. Thev were captured at • Valparaiso. । Henry Blessing, a farmer living north of Fort Wayne, awoke and found his residence in flames. He had just time to throw his wife and children out of a window and leap after them as the floor fell in. Less, i 2.50 d: no insurance. The remains of John C. Lutz, which were buried at Richmond nearly a i century ago, were exhumed recently to be placed in another grave. Upon examination the body and clothes were found to be in a remarkaqle state of ' preservation. : Represeniatives of the Chicago i Rock Face Stone Company are in Muncie negotiating for the location of a plant in that city for the manufacture of their patent product. Tfie proposed plant will employ about 300 people, and it is likely to be located in Muncie. । Clifford Ellis, son of the Dublin postmaster, while out hunting lost an arm by the accidental discharge of his shotgun. He was squeezing through a j wire fence when the gun went off. the contents passing through his arm, • necessitating amputation half way bei tween the hand anil elbow. Patents have been granted to Indiana inventors as follows: Samuel M. Brundage. Indianapolis, deflector for ironing machines: Theodore Decker, Charlottesville, assigner of m. i-half te T. Roberts. Arlington, harness: John** I A. Grove. Bluffton, wire fence: George I. Harwell, Fort Wayne, folding chair: John I. Hoke, South Bend, harrow: He ry Stacey, as-igner of one-half to ; M. H. Cain. Indianapolis, oil burner. M HILE their motaer was absent I from their home, ten miles south of Veedersburg, two little girls, the i daughters of Lewis Davis, while curl- | ing their hair, accident illy overturned • a lamp, the oil spreading over their ! clothing and igniting. They ran out into the yard, when their mother, at- : traded by their s reams, rushed to । them, but was helpless to check the • flames. Their clothing was burned off j and the charred flesh dropped from I their bodies. One of them died ere I they extinguished the flames and the | other lived only a short time. Mrs. Davis was so badly burned that she will die. The Elwood Land Company has been changed from a mere association to an incorporated body, with a capital stock of $250,000. It controls over one thousand acres of the adjacent territory and holds gas leas- s upon IbU.OIMJ acresuf contiguous territory to that citv. William Cole, an employe at the rolling mill at Brazil, met accidental death while piling scrap iron. He was standing on a small car. and in attempting to icmove a piece of heavy iron above his head, his feet slipped and he fell backwards, striking his head against t ear wheel, knocking out his brains.