St. Joseph County Independent, Volume 19, Number 22, Walkerton, St. Joseph County, 16 December 1893 — Page 7

AT W WJEB® Story J7^ n . s fl(one Charlotte M. Braeme. Rirn + ClWp mxxiv. >h ° «O wlXmSnio "T T s rc Mt! liked to wort fi 2 - bhoul d have 1 tereatedne^s of mvVve 1 ' 1 ^ ^ sin " were a thousand JZu:.A wl ?. h thoi 'e

that bybc^S^ another, I mi^ht !u do ? n ' one alter love you. I S,i Show how . dearly I years for you as Jarnh n'-n ? wice sev en he loved J so deLdt r dld Ba ; hel, tent, sweet t> wHt "°n‘d bo conlife if I mi^ht enH Upon you my death. Oh Leonid J ° U own in tome!” ’ - eoni -> say one little word ovJ?£ h ° loVely fa °e bent half shyly ‘ she asked“ in^ low voice® 11, , sw e et U ImUtX^?^ -ell, I —I might give to 1 vou^ llf °- " lth you moment of it-fin ICe every . you-know no other car? of ' and yet, when I e™ lo v O1 ln terest; I 1 hX dm. you would not given to all m?n to fell

feel. “I do not think you are very deficient in eloquence,” she said, with a happy smile. "Ah, my darling, if I were a poet, I might put my love into song—a song so beautiful, so full of divine harmony, that the world in reading it would .know how I had loved you. If I were an artist I could paint you, and show to the world tl at form which to me is peerless. But not being either, I cannot do so. I can only tell you in plain words that I love you better than fame, fortune or life; and I pleal to you, Leonie, for some little love in return. ” “I am full of faults, ” said the girl. "I am not so perfect as you think me, Bertram. You might, ; erhaps, be disappointed in me alter all.” “There is no fear of that; I know you have faults, but, Leonie, they are such as I cannot but love.” “You do not know what they are,” she said. “I am so worldly, Bertram— I love rank, wealth, position, money, gayety, life, fashion, and those things which the wise despise. I love them

and should never be willing to live without them. .“Love me with them,” said Sir Bertram, “and I shall not care; those are very venial faults, Leonie, in one so young and beautiful as you ” “I am not very patient, either,” she continued; “and in me there is a great want. I can give it no name, and know no name for it; but I want something that Ethel Dacre, for instance, has in perfection. I am changeable, as the wird—grave, gay, idle, industrious, good and wicket, all in an hour.” “I can only repeat that 1 love your faults, Leonie. I believe they are dearer to me than the virtues of other women. But, Leonie. sweet, have vou ^_heard what I asked you? Tell me—^wili^ou"car<rior me, will you be my wife?” ' It was the question that she had heard in her dreams a thousand times. “Will you be my wife, Leonie? My love shall shield you—my heart shelter you. Do not turn from me. Never mind those lilies—if they could speak, each leaf would urge a prayer for me. Look at me —tell me, will you he my wife?” J Her fair head drooped near him; the passion of his words had conquered her. She could make no answer. He took her little white hands and covered them with passionate kisses. She made no resistance. She did not not draw them from him. Then, raising the face so beautiful in its softened tenderness, he kissed the white brow, his lips murmuring the while words so full of tenderness that she never forgot them. “Say only one word, Leonie. Tell me that you love me—even ever so little. I will hope for more in time.” “I can tell you that,” she whispered. “You love me a little!” he cried. “Yes—just in the smallest possible degree,” she replied, with a smile of perfect happiness. “And will you try really to love me more?” “I will try,” she answered. “Do you think the lesson will be a hard one to learn,Bertram?” He kissed the fair hands again, telling her she was as peerless as a queen. Bhe tried to hide the happiness that surged through heart and brain, I thinking that it was not maidenly for her lover to see how well he was loved. "My head is not a very firm one,” she said, suddenly, looking up at him. “It is a very beautiful one, ” he put In, drawing the blushing face nearer to his own. You have interrupted mu, Burtrum. I repeat, my bead is not very firm—my

Drain will not Hold many ideas at once. Just now it is filled, with thoughts of the ball and. several other things. Bertram, ” she continued, slowly, “ask me those questions again when‘the ball is over, and I will give you an answer.” He looked at her in a rapture of hope. “My darling,” he cried, “how good you are to me I Oh, Leonie, shall I win yen after all? The very hope dazzles me. If you sent me from you I should ” “What should you do?” she asked, anxiously. “Not kill myself,” he replied, slowly. “Death is a coward's resource. But from my life every gleam of brightness would die out. I should go far away, darling, from home and friends, to some strange far-off land, where nothing could remind me of you. I should lose everything that makes life dear in losing you. Ami no face ever charmed me save /^'•s. You hear how sweetly the bk s are singing; there is more musi<fto me in one word of yours than in all their song. See how fair the lilies are; there is more beauty to me in this one white hand of yours than in all the Howers that ever bloomed. Your face to me shines more brightly than all the stars in heaven. I believe that if I died it would be found on my heart. ” The impulse was strong upon her to tell him that she loved him just as dearly—that he was all the world to her, the soul and center of her being— i but some strange instinct made her re- | /rain.

1 '..“.""t:: U'V’SM? I’ I she said to herself “bIIT! con( l u6st ,'’ me ahain and a-ai n —ho Ten* V” 3 * Mk I BertS; Sir hours until it is over ard iT Unt th ° help hopino- Yn» n’ a o^ etl cannot his love for hoJ ‘it C3uld surpass I him. ’ ll " a ’ her love for “See, ” she sain , .. . :

sai Q su denlv 1., , , cups are closin and th« ’ t th ® h , ly ’ * ginning to fell 0 n * dew is be- - f ell. Bertram, we must go I wonder.” ho Qn ’/i , i , 1 shall live th rough id tho y i " how 1 1 ninetuemh of Juno Tuesd «y. the I that ban; tome." ‘ Otomo most important pwrieM, lo 1

know she loves me—she would have sent me from her if she did not. ” “Remember,” said Lady Charnleigh, as they drew near the long open window, “you are not to speak of this, Bertram, until ” “ Until your brain is clear and the ball is over. I will remember,” he promised, with a smile. “You like to entertain one idea at a time, Leonie, and no more. “ “You understand perfectly. See, there is Lady Fanshawe. Have you any idea, Bertram, whether it is etiquette for a countess of eighteen to : linger among the lilies with a Saxon prince?” It was the first time she had ever ' flattered him, and the fair, frank face flushed hotly. “For your sake I wish I were a prince,” he said. She looked at him with an assumption of perfect gravity. “You please me best as you are,” she ' returned, and when he would have I caught that white jeweled hand she turned away.

a “My dear Lady Charnleigh,” said Lady Fanshawe; “do you not think it - is late for you to be out?” 3 “Please blame Sir Bertram, auntie—--3 he has beguiled the time.” Laly Fanshawe looked keenly at that 3 gentleman's face. b “Has he anything to tell me?” sho r said to herself. “No, ho looks exceeds bigly happy, but not as though she had i promised to marry him. Whom does > she like best, I wonder?” , Miss Dacre looked up from her book as Sir Bertram re-entered the 10 m; • Lady Charnleigh had lingered outside, । pretending to fasten some drooping ■ roses, but in reality to hide the beauti” . ful blushes that had not yet died from ■ her face. “He Ims not asked her to marry him,” thought Miss Dacre: “he looks like a happy lover, but nothing more.” A sharp sudden pang smote her. “Does she like PaitWhestrn-'; best; If so, he ' • will win her.” She laid down her book and went cut to where the young c unteSsstood raising the drooping flowers. How sad it is that roses die!” commented Lady Charnleigh. “Look at those lovely leaves. Ethel; they ought' never to fade. ” But Ethel Dacre went up to her and cla ped her white neck. “Leonie,” she said, “you are not real- , ly thinking about the roses. Tell me, have you been kind to Sir Bertram this evening. ” The countess opened wide her lovely eyes. “My dearest child child,” she said, have you been with me so long with- ! out learning to understand me. lam ! kind to no one but myself.” Nor could Ethel get any other an-I swer from her. CHAPTER XXV. Perhaps the time that elapsed be- | tween that night and the nineteenth j of June was really the happiest part of j Lady Charnleigh’s life. She was sure । of her lover’s affection; she had but to ’ speak one word to him, and the happi- ; ness of her whole existence was secured. He loved her; he had prayed her to be his wife. She had but to consent. “I will make him so happy,” she said to herself with a smile. “I will make him wait a few days longer, and then I j will tell him how dearly and truly I i have always loved him. I have teased him enough; I will submit for the future.” She was standing in her favorite spot, the western terrace, where purple pas-sion-flowers grew in luxuriant profu- ! ssiun; loaning over tlia otone balustrade • round which climbing roses and sweet j

woodbines clung, there came to her a ' dream—a dream of the day when to this home she loved so dearly her lover should com j, of the long vista of happy years stretching out in the golden sunlight, of the future to be spent together, of the love that should end only with life.” “We shall be buried together,” she ; said to herself; “we shall lie side by side in the last long sleep, in the green churchyard at Weildon, with flow, rs blooming over us. Neither in life nor in death shall I lose my .’ove.” Tears filled her bright eyes as she raised them to the cloudless sky. I ought to thank heaven, ” she said, “that has made me so wondrously happy. I ought to be good, for my path in life lies among bright Howers which have no thorns. ” And the memory of this dream lingered always with her. She caught herself later on looking round her magnificent rooms, and wondering which should be Sir Bertram's study, wonder- j ing which he would like best, valuing ; her possessions ten thousand times j more, now that they would be his also, j She found herself always thinking of this future that was to be shared with him. “When the limes are in flower next year.” she said, “he will be here with me.” So with everything. She had but j one date —“when he would be with j her.” She said nothing to Ethel, her j j chosen friend, of her love. Lady! i Charnleigh was full of life, animation, i I and spirits, but she was not one to j

? speak of her deepest feelings- th« • than k si n Pt! i^ lcd She rather avoide- ' Bettram! 1 " conversati °n about Sj Lady Fanshawe and Miss Dacre wS? t^V 1 ^ did shG hke the bet toi. Which did she pref Jr?—l o beau eould eU s r n? r Bei ’ trai n- ^hat neither was Somethsatisfactorily j Countess of Charnkiigh 0 ° f th ° Fanshawe,^nsTveß B ? id Lad y Captain Fleming wni.in ^ arria ff e with ble-it wouKe^ should -share th« 4 ur taafc he looking at sh? point of view, it woMtf^ ? ® P>^ sl .ble M ith her beautvS

might do so much S ^° ' Dioro's foco ! make an a„± A""* “olinod to herself with saying- 6 cont ented1 1'S' a onand then Miss Dacre saifi I dignity from the room g t reat I shawe looking '>ftAr° i™’ Lady fan " " iJolyopened fv her wl »t> andtofnTc™^ o ? n w .t > M t. L ; delightful confusion "Thn^p 1 & ® tate of -ia and decoration of the ground^w^ completed, but the interior of the ill lrra7” S F a Lady Fanshawe was nlr i^P e amusea. It was .'a magnn?<morning when tor Ladv (!hnmlnirr> -Mi

~V, “ 1 mauy cnariueighM^* 1 know 1 must not detain you nox^®® Leonie, but remember, sweet, what I you have promised me when the ball is over. I shall be jealous to-night if you dance with any one but myself.” “A little jealousy does most men good,” said his lady-love, as she hastened away. Sir Bertram rode off again. It was useless to remain at Crown Leighton; as he could not talk to its beautiful mistress, ho was quite as well away. He had not been gone long before Captain Flemyng arrived and sent to rei quest five minutes with Lady Charni leigh. ; “I am afraid, Leonie,” said Lady Fanshawe, “that you find so many lovers embarrassing. ” “No one said anything about lovers, auntie. I presume gentlemen may call on business without being suspected of wishing to make love.” And theCoun- ! tess of Charnleigh walked out of the room with her head proudly erect. ; Ladj- Fanshawe's remarks were rather trying.

Captain Flemyng was in the morningroom, looking very handsome. Leonie's J ! quick eyes discovered some trace of emotion on the high-bred patrician face. His errand was much the same as his produces.-or’s; he had brought - two superb bouquets, one for I^dy Charnleigh, and one in no way inferior 1 for Miss Dacre. “I have something to say to you, Lady Charnleigh,” b >gan Paul. “I know that I must not detain you now, but, when all this is over, you will grant me ; an interview? AU my future depends upon it.” His face flushed, and hie : ! eyes were full of suppressed fire. He took one of her hands in his. “I will not detain you, Leonie; but the hours Will be full of painful suspense until I see you again and have your answ w ” ~STTo liked him so well that I । lie had gone away she stood with tears i in her eyes, knowing the pain she must I inflict on him. “I would have done anything to preyent V’ s ’ ..sho said, “I* have robbed ; him of his inheritance, and now I must ’ rob him of his peace and happiness. I Oh. Paul, you should hate mo!” She liked him so well that, although , it was the day of her ma.nificent ball, I she wept bitterly for the sorrow that i must be his. “If he had only liked me as I like I him,” she said—“in in kindly, Mstc-rly I way, without any of this tiresome love! If he had only loved Ethel, who is I worth a dozen of me! He will not reproach mo, but no will go away from me looking so sad and so wretched that I shall never feel quite happy i again—he whose love might honor a : queen.” i She was obliged perforce to dismiss f [ all thoughts of him, for servants and i assistants required her superintend- I i ence. She was wanted in twenty places I at once. | It was not until the hour came for dressing, that it occured to her that she was in a sad dilemma over the two I bouquets. Which must she carry? | “I will take a few flowers from both ” : ■ she said, with a smile, “and then I shall avoid any tragical denouement for this evening at least. ” Ito be continued. | Millions of Dollars Sent to China. Congressman Hilborn, of California, delivered his maiden speech at Washington last week on the subject of the Chinese in this country. All the money they make here, ho said,, they send back to China. Since their first settle- | meat in Calif, rnia, from that State ' alone they have sent $300,100,0 ,0. “I" 1880,” said Mr. Hilborn, “the total C-Ms ] nese population of the United States J was 105,465; in California it was 75,132. I I

In 1890 the total population was lOL- / 475, showing a total gain of populatin' in the United States of 2,010. The Chinese population in California is 72,724, showing a falling off in our particular State They seem to have turned their faces eastward. In New York in 1870 there were only 29 Chinamen; in 18^0, 909; in 1890, 2,935. In ' Pennsylvania in 1870 there were 13; in J 1880, 148; in 1890, 1,146. I Victoria Has Fifty-five Pet Dogs. I The greatest private collection of pet dogs in the world is said to bo. that of her Majesty Queen Victoria of Great Britain. The Queen has fifty-five canine pets, and they live in the grandest canine stylo that ever was known. Their dining-room is hand omely carpeted, and ornamented with the por, traits of their celebrated ancestors in oil and water colors. Some of the pictures aro adorned with tufts of the hair which belonged to the departec pets of her Majesty. The dogs art proud of their portrait gallery, me , they despise all the low-bred curs o . ; creation. One of the Queen’s pleasure! is to make sketches and paint portrait 1 of her dogs, and many of the picture * in her canine pantheon are from he J hand. Others have been made by Prine e Albert, the Prince of Wales, an Princess Louise of Lorne. | i Mamma—“Harry, I want you to com ! in nowand amuse the baby.” Harr 5 j (aged s)—“You’ll have to excuse mi f । mother; I’m not in the low-comed ’ | line.” I

IMESTIC ECONOMY. ’J JQ w’ICS OF INTEREST TO FARMER AND HOUSEWIFE. tu r Many Advantages of Co-Operative How to Prune Peach Trees—9Tn Fodder vs. Jloot Crops—ThoroughBd Fowls for Profit. T k Co-Operative Tarm'ng , Iverystep in the direction of co-op-tive farming will be welcomed by iculturists, since farming is allt the only industry that has not ■ |n able to profit by the present I it syndicate tendencies. It is ieable to know therefore that synIted agriculture is now estabied on a firm basis in France. The vement began very quiety ten rs ago. Its organization consists separate societies called agriculal syndicates. Os these there are y 1,300 in all parts of France, with membership of 600,000. The busisstheydo amounts to $20,000,060 a ar. There seems, however, in thj ral skullan insurmountable obstacle the successful selling of the prod : eratiye selling has not yet brought vorab’.e results. But with buying ic flitTnrnnt 'Tim fyrpntp<t

bAts oinerenu me greatest success WThe syndicates has been in the matin of purchasing cheaply and n entity all the supplies needed. Jrtilizers cost immensely in France, iWk V means of the syndicates the jore>t farmer has equal advantages ith the iichest. The societies are eganized and managed by the £thod of shares and stockholders, he members elect their o.tcers. ®es3, it must be confessed, are Maliy selected from the ri h class, it, on the other hand, many of pse wealthy officers ga\e their ! vices gratis to the syndicates. Os J large advantages already gained, •. H. 11. Wolff wiites in the Econoc Jo rnal; (he syn licntcs help the vin<- grower and sugar beet grower, the horse-breeder 1 themarket gardener; they lend a hand the destruction of obnoxi"iis insect-., tiie ^bankment ot w.itereou - es. ft m g.i i..n f, keeping off the frost. They hive provided French agriculture with Itrds of conciliation and arbitration, and . l-i , .. i . . .

i urance of laborers against accidents; and i ive all things, they have, in M. Gatahier's ' J words, wholly --denu cratized'' the use I dartitleial manures, ins • -ticidi-s. feeding | 2ils. et-.. placing what was formerly u ! jtury reserved for the rich within the easy I Jch of the poor, imploring the quality, re’liiig the market pi ice by mmi 20 to 30 per Jit. and yet increasing the annual con- j Juption from the paltry figure of 52.000.U00 ' fines— barely more than X2.000.00U for all ! wince—to 12U,')00,U00 francs. The eo-oper- | Jvo pur -liase and use of machinery and ! Aletnents. the provision in s<>m<> districts . I Jkinter employment by means < f domestic i j, ustriee. banking and lending, arrnngeI n nt of technical lectures, prox ston for ' a tlyais and field experiments, prizes fur t [best managed farms and subsidies ton rd the introduction of improved machine and the construction of liquid manure t ks are among oilier services rendered by syndicate." ban a late number of Gardening G : if Keffer makes the following sensiremarks about pruning peach 1 tres: ••The fruit buds us the peach an borne on one year wood. At the I bt<e of well grown twigs are fruit j blds; further up are leaf buds, and | towards the end of the twig are fruit I bids again. The fruit buds are ; raind and plump, thd*» leaf buds i slnder and pointed Alter the ’leaves j fit, of during any favorable weather Hr winter, 1 cut back the leaf buds ioi each branch. Tn is pruning thins tie crop greatly, and leaves the fruit on the strongest part of the branch, nlir the base. In every peach country ocasional seasons happen when the b;ds aie Killed by late frosts. The-e .years afford the be>t opportunity for i''6eading in’ the tree. When it is I found that the crop is killed by frost, all the branche- of the t ee should be cut bapk severely—even to where the limbs are two inches in diameter, if the tree has not been headed for several years. New shoots will start below, and make a luxurious growth, thus renewing the tree, keeping the Suiting wood within easy reach from a low step-ladder, and preventing splitting of the nmjn limbs by insuring a strong growth, with the weight of the crop near enough to the trunk to prevent breaking by winds. The third form of peach pruning conssits j in picking off from one-half to onethird of the peaches by the time they pave reached the size of filberts.” * ‘ Tkoroiiffli! re 1 row’s for Profit, farmer who keeps fowls is inexcusable for being contented with j iany but the best. It is but little ex- i

I wense to get a few settings of eggs in It he proper season and make an entire ■change of sto k in a single year. But lit is still better to procure a few ■thoroughbred bi ids and from them ■supply the eggs which are required ■for setting. The old breeds can be ■continued after the first year by not ■ keeping any males with them except ■of thoroughbreds. The mongrels are I best for setters, and, indeed, many of I them are little good for anything else. We have evoluted the artiflcial incubator, and this makes it unnecessary to develop the setting instinct in any class of fowls. The hens under the new system will not be perpetual layers, but they may be made nearly so. Moulting has to be gone through with once a year, but with plenty of food of the kind to make feathers the days of moulting may be shortened and the fowl set to laying again, home of the best fowls have in small flocks produced an average ! of 250 eggs per year. That does not allow any time for setting and tearing young, those operations in such flocks being left to artiflcial means. Corn Fodder vs. Koot Crops. England cannot grow corn. If it could? it, too, would rely on corn fodder and the silo for feeding stock, as American farmers have learned to do. We can grow roots in this conntry, but our dryer climate makes the j

crop less sure and the yield generally smaller. The root crop tnat English farmers make the most of is the i turnip, including rutabagas or Swed- 1 ish turnips. This crop is far less grown here than it was forty or fifty ; years ago. It is an exhaustive crop, i much more so than corn, as the J turnip gets most of its root growth i directly from the soil, while all the ' starch of corn comes from the air ! through corn leaves. English farmers recognize the exhaustive nature of the turnip crop by manuring it heavily with phosphate. The turnips are fed off the land by sheep. That could not be done anywhere in this I country, as our winters freeze and destroy this root, half hardy though i it be. Operating the Incubator. If you have an incubator do noi oblige your neighbors by opening the I egg drawer frequently, as the cold air chills the eggs and causes the chicks to die in the shells. Do not cool the eggs, as it is not necessary, and do not open the egg-drawer to turn the “pipped” side of the eggs up. When the chicks begin to come out. do not remove any of them until all are hatched, but ; n — v i «la viiu tuaivCL mey will not In jure each other as much by trampling as will be done the chicks in the shells by a sudden lowering of the heat, which happens when the I chicks are removed, as the bodies of the chicks contribute to the warmth I of the incubator by the animal heat given off. The temperature for hatching is 103 degrees, which is quite high; hence a draught of air of : sudden chilling of the eggs is a severe shock to the chicks, and especially when they are breaking the shell. Useful Hints. The white of an egg applied with a sponge will restore the lustre of morocco. Stains caused by whitewash will disappear if vinegar is applied to the discolorations. It vou would preserve the beauty of plated silverware, keep it in a warm, dry room. Ponhee should be soaked in salt and water for twenty-four hours and then ironed before it is cut. After that it may be washed when soiled without spotting or shrinking. Another thing worth knowing is ' that a tiny bit of cotton in the tips of s ik glove-; will make them wear much longer by preventing the finger ; nails from cutting through the delicate fibre. Ruffi.es promise to be the favorite skirt trimming for wash goods. The allowance for fullness depends upon the material. One-half the width of the skirt is sufficient for the sheerest fabric. It is well to remember, for use in cases of illness where the burning thirst of the patient cannot be assuaged by cracked ice or jwate.u that a teaspoonful of glycerine will afford prompt and comparatively long relief. A simile process for removing fresh ink stains from a garment is to cover them immediately with paste made of starch and cold water. If the stains are noticeable when the dried starch is rubbed off, repeat the operation. a cover of doublefaced canton flannel or table felt is considered indispensable. now between table and linen cloth, and this is one reason why table mats are no longer in xogue. They are not needed, for the heavy cover protects the table completely. A doctor says that the proper commencement of dinner should be the old-fashioned dish of good soup, and for the reason that it is necessary that the first food taken at dinner should be quickly absorbed, so as to stimulate the nervous system and give tone to the stomach. A long narrow bag of white linen, drawn up at the top with satin ribbons, and with some long roll-sachets of violet or heliotrope sewed inside, is a parasol sachet, and is designed to protect the loving creations of lace, gauze, and flowers that masquerade under the title of sun shades. Persuasive, Dr. Morell Mackenzie, the famous specialist in diseases of the throat is said to have had extraordinary power over his patients, a power which sometimes appeared almost magnetic. Once a death occurred in his con- : suiting-room —one of those cases ! which Sir James Paget used to call “calamities of surgery.” The brother of the dead patient was furious, and hastened to Doctor Mack nzie’s office determined to give him a piece of his mind. Such was the fascinat on of Mac- I kenzie’s manner, howexer, that the infuriated man cooled down by degrees, and in a short time found himself conversing quite calmly about the fatal case. The triumph was reached when, before departing, he sat down in the operating chair, and after allowing Mackenzie to examine his throat, paid him his fee without a murmur. Wonderful Progress. If we never forgot anything, and never learned anything which had to j be unlearned afterward, what schol- ■ ars we should become! A little boy came home from his ' first day at school in a jubilant state of mind. “O mamma,” he cried, ‘ what do I you think; I’ve only been to school one day, and I’ve learned to say •eyether’ and ‘neyether’ instead of ' ’either’ and ‘neither.’”—New York Tribune. “Judges,” said a prominent member of the New York bar, “have always a great advantage over us poor j I lawyers,for |they guess last.”

INDIANA INCIDENTS, i SOBER OR STARTLING, FAITHFULLY RECORDED. i i An Interesting Summary of the More Im. i portant Doings of Our Neighbors—Wed. • dings and Deaths—Crimes, Casualties and General News Notes. Condensed State Nexvs. It is estimated that there are 600 cases of grippe at Fort Wayne. ; David Meharky, 85, a famous Methodist, died at Crawfordsville. A WAI RR tank in the Big Four yards at Muncie was demolished by a wreck. Taylor McConnaha, whomysteriI ously disappeared from Centerville, I last February, has returned. The Y. P. S. C. E. State Convention, I in session at Terre Haute, decided to I hold its next annual session at IndianI apolis. | A Fort Wayne man, to amuse him- . self, runs lad es' ; resses and cloaks I as they pass him on the street by squirting paint on them. Silas Moore has been sentenced to one year in the Penitentiary for steal-.— trig n pair of pants from the store of H. Brokhage, at Vinwnn,^ Edward Brady, a barber of Porter, I has sued a Chicago paper for SIO,OOO j for falsely publishing his name as the referee ot a prize fight. | William Sharp of Herbert. Grant ! County, a deaf mute, was killed by- the north-bound passenger train on the Big Four Railroad near Jonesboro. The greatest suffering among the poor and unemployed of Richmond is reported. Between 10b and 20 ) families are said to be daily fed by charity. The Nelson Glass Works at Muncie, employing about 125 hands, has resumed operations. All of Muncie’s glass factories are now in operation. The large feed and saw mill and grain elevator of Temple & Sons, at ; Vermont, Delaware Comity, burned. Loss, SIO,OOO. on which there was a । small insurance. I ('HARLES Adsit, aged 13 years, was I killed in a runaway in Warren. He । was thrown out of the wagon and the I wheels pas-ed over his body, injuring ■ him so badly that he died in a short , time. j At Lexington. Ella Araos, a 10-year-old girl, was burned to death. “ Her dress caught fire from a grate. Every vestige of clothing was burned from the unfortunate girl and her flesh was : literally baked. Sadie Lister, daughter of an old veteran at Elwood, some time ago made application for a pension and back pay duo her father. The voucher allowing . $1,500 arrived at Elwood the other day, a few hours after she had died. There have been 25 men arrested At Bloomfield charged with being an c - ganized gang that have been systematically robbing freight cars at Worthington. It is said that one of the men 1 has confessed and told where all the plunder can be found. ! Robert Reynolds, a colored emj plo»le in the American Wire Nail Mill, 4 was terribly scalded at Anderson th* — was snuck Lj u vxuuu and knocked into a vat of boiling sulphuric acid, from which he was rescued a moment later. His recovery is doubtful. I At Vincennes a 3-year-old child of James D. Williams, grandson of the late Gov. Williams, was burned to death in the yard of her parents. The child was playing around an open : fire huiit fur tne ’purpose oi heating j water, wheti Kei* clothing caiighf. % i At Goshen, Oscar Swanson, one of thi off-bearers at Lesh. Sanders A Egj bert Co.’s saw-mills, lost his life in a horrible and sickening way. While at work he slipped and fell onto one of the immense band saws, and in a second his head was completely severed i from his body and left hanging to it by a thin strip of skin. The body of Jesse F. Cole, a young i farmer, aged 32. was found in the ! woods near Surprise. Mr. Cole left home to go to the woods to cut down an elm tree. His failure to return i home caused a search to be made, and he was found dead, having been struck i by the butt end of the tree as it fell, j He leaves a wife and two children, j John Mackland, a voting man about i twentv-two years old, who has been • considered unbalanced in his mind at- ! tempted to shoot himself at his home. ; eight miles south of Salem. His I brother William and mother tried to ‘ prevent him, when he turned the ' pistol in his brother’s face and fired, ■ the shot striking nim near the nose on the right cheek. Will^^r-~*' ' Wof - ! the house, and the q> । revolver to his own head and fired, tne ball flattening out against the skull, but not seriously wounding him. The brother is quite seriously hurt. A lunacy commission declared the man of unsound mind, and he will be sent j to the asylum. A terrible accident occured at Knightstown, resulting in the instant 'l-Wh nf TT ' vr>o the prominent men of Hen^^ I ■ Just as the west-bound limited on"Uj I Panhandle was passing the depot Mr. Peden attempted to cross the track j and was struck by the engine, which ' hurled him nearly seventy feet against a watchman's stand. Nearly every bone in his body was broken, his head being crushed to pieces. Death was, of course, instantaneous. Mr. Peden was sixty-nine years of age, a native of Pennsylvania, a man of considerable wealth, being a member of the firm of Wilkinson A Peden, one of the largest grain-dealing firms in eastern Indiana. In Masonic circles Mr. Peden ranked । high, having served as grand com- ! mander of the Knights Tempters and . grand high priest of the chapter of • the State. He also served as commander of Knightstown Commandery ! for fifteen years and. has filled every i office in the gift of his home lodge, ■ chapter, council and commandery. i A scheme came to light at Elwood, the other day by which Dick GoodI man, the burglar, who was shot, was to i escape. A coffin containing a “dummy” was to be buried and the word was to . be given out that it was the remains of । Goodman. He was in the meantime to i be taken to parts unknown. Henry Bruner and wife of Greencastle. whose deat h occurred from grip and old age within half hour of each other, were buried in one grave. They had been married sixty-two years. I Mr. Bruner, aged. Si. died first, and his | wife, aged 83, expired almost immediately on being told that he was dead.