St. Joseph County Independent, Volume 19, Number 32, Walkerton, St. Joseph County, 24 February 1894 — Page 2

~~r —! 111 Bi ll HI ATHRJMRSELF. The Story of a Woman's Atonement, by Charlotte M. Braeme. CHAPTER XI I-Continued. Was there ever such a scone of Wealth, luxury, and magnificence? Loonie stood in a white muslin wrapper, her golden hair falling like a veil around her. On every side were spread out costly dresses and shining jewels. Leonie held in her hand a superb necklace of diamonds. Si e did not look up when Ethel entered the room. “I know it is you. Ethel, by your footstep. I was just going to send for you to ask your advice.” Leonie was so deeply engrossed by her jewe’s that Ethel dil not respond. She waited until her companion’s attention was directed elsewhere. “I am quite undecided as to what ornaments 1 shall wear tc-night,” said Ijeonie. “1 am going to a concert. People have always so much time to study one another s dresses at a concert* Mine is the palest, prettiest pink. ^What will go best with it, Ethel —diamonds or pearls? pearls have a chaste appearance, but diamonds are most brilliant. 1 want to look well to-night. ” Still Miss Dacre made no answer, and Loonie, looking up to discover the reason of her friend’s silence, was struck by the grave, serious expression of her face. “What is the matter, Ethel? You look graver than a judge.” “I want to speak to you, Leonie. Put those diamonds away for a few minutes, and come her?. ” Leonie laid the necklace down, and as she did so Ethel Dacre reflected that it did not belong to her, and she felt i something like sorrow for the girl who would have to part with so much that she loved. Leonie laid down the necklace and moved to Ethel's side; she placed one white arm caressingly round the girl's nock, and said: “Do not keep me long, ('aiding: 1 must attend to my dress.” But there came no smile to Ethel s face, or cheerful word to her lips. It was a pretty picture the magnificent room, with itswaimth of color, and the two girls in graceful attitudes —Ethel seated on a crimson lounging chair, her fair, eloquent face so grave and anxious: Leonie kneeling at her feet, her golden hair and white dress seeming to draw all the sunshine to themselves. “Loonie,” asked Ethel Dacre,gravely, “have you ever heard anything of a will by which the late Lord < harnleigh left everything he had in the world to Captain Fie my ng? ” For a moment it «eemed to Leonie that some cold hand had clutched her heart and stopped its beating: a red mist Heated before her eyes, a sound as oi rushing wind tilled her curs, her face grew deathly white. “A will!” she repeat 'd, in low. hoarse tones. “No—what makes you ask me that?”

A sudden deadly fear came over her —an awful dread. Had the will sho believed so securely hidden come to light? Had any one discovered it? The things she had loved so dearly seem to be already slipping from her ’ grasp. Vanity, pride, Ine of jxiA.r, all awoke with renewed vigor in her ( soul—she would not give up without a ’ . struggle. “What makes you ask me that?" she repeated in a voice so full of fear that Miss Dacre was surprised at it. “Because I have every reason to believe that such a will exists, or has existed. ” ; “It is not true." cried Leonie “it is false! You know every on? knows there was no such will; every sett ch was made, every precaution taken. Why do you talk so. Ethel? Who has said anything of the kind?” “One dead has spoken, Leonio? It is a voice from Ulric Charn’eigh's grave that tells of a will." The white face grew even more ghastly; for one moment it seemed to Leonie;Rayner that lUc itself was leaving her. “1 have found this." c< ntinued Ethel, holding out the letter for her to read: “it was hidden in the picture of Paul's mother. Read it. Leonie.” The young girl held out her hand for ; the paper. She t ied to read it. but she tried in vain: the lette "s appeared lik a red mist before her eyes. “I cannot see to read it. Ethel.” And Miss Dacre, taking the paper , from the trembling hands, read the solemn words. As she read, Le mie crouched lower and lower, until she ; lay at last with her face hidden on the floor. “The question is,” said Ethel, in her j clear, low voice, "was that will ever : made, or d'd Lord Charn'eigh die be- I fore carrying out his intention?" Faint hop? crept back to the weak heart. After all. then, no one knew ; that she had found the will: he ■ secret was safe still; that letter could not 1 oblige her to give up the inheritance. “If the will was made,” continued Miss Dacre, “where is it?" “It was never made,” said Leonie Rayner—a faint color crept back to her face, her lips lost their rigidness—“it was never made, Ethel, and you have frightened mo for nothing.” “Frightened you?” said Miss Dacre, j “Yes—frightened me. You made me think that T should have to give up, Crown Leighton.” Ethel Dacre had drawn back from her, grave wonder in her eyes, a faint flush in her face. “Made you think so, Leonie! Do you not think so still?” "Certainly not; that letter is not a . will—it is not binding.” “Not binding?” repeated Miss Dacre. ■ “Leonie, you are surely dreaming—you do not know what you say. Please answer me one question: to whom did old Lord Charnieigh intend to leave his estates—to Paul Flemyng or to you?” “That is not worth discussing. lam entitled to them by law, and no one can take them from me.” Ethel Dacre drew herself up to her full height: she looked on the kneeling figure with eyes that were full of noble reproach. “I am a soldier’s daughter,” she said, “and have but one word for such conduct as yours—you are dishonorable, Loonie Rayner. You are dishonorable, ” repeated Miss Dacre. “You are bound in conscience and in honor to give up to Paul Flemyng that which Ulric Charnieigh meant to be his.” “I am not bound to do anything of the kind, Ethel. None but a generous mortal like yourself would say so. Paul Flemyng himself would tell you the idea is preposterous. ”

“Paul Flemyng Is a noble man.” said Ethel Dacre. “Suppose he were in possession here, and had found such a letter, do you think that he would keep the inheritance one hour after reading the writer's wishes?” “I should imagine that he would,” answered Leonie; yet, even as the words left her lips, she kne v they were false. “You know he would not. Great Heaven, Leonie, are you mad, to dream that a mere quibble of the law could give a claim more sacre 1 than this letter —the written wisb.es of the dead? A man s will is but the written expression < f his wish. Can anything be plainer than this?” “I am the late earl’s nearest of kin. Ho died without a wi 1, therefore a.l that he possed is rightly mine.” “Oh, Leonie, how falsely you reason! It is no more yours than mire. You know at this moment that there is a voice in your own heart telling you to give up at owe what doos not belong to you. ” “I hear no such voice,” said Leonie. Ethel l a we went to her; sho looked long and earnestly in the beautiful colorless lace. “I kn w you arc jesting, Leonie. You are not saying what you really think. You would not do wrong; and you know that to keep what is not yours is—as we said the other day—simply stealing. Surely y<u, with the Charnieigh blood running in your veins—yen, Paul Flemyng's intended wife—a patent of nobility in itself—surely you would not write yourself down ‘thief.’” Leonie's face flushed crimson at such words. They were but t.ie repetition of her own thoughts. Sho stood erect before Ethel. “Do not repeat that word. Miss Dacre. There are limit? toeverything, and my forbearance will not go much i further. You call me ‘thief becau e 1 choose to keep that which belongs to me by law and by right. D > not repeat t he offense. ” Yet even as she spoke so proudly and haughtily, in the depths of her own heart sh • Knew the charge was true, and she loathed herself for her sin she hated herself beeaus’ sho c mid not look Ethel Dacre in the face—she hated hers'lf for tin' time humiliation that h t own act had brought upon her. “I am s rry to have of en led you,” sad Miss Dacre. "When I t'a're in to speak to you, offence wa? the last thing I tin u fht o’; but. Leoni', light is right, and it must b ■ done at any cost. I shall never think again of wh'ut y ill have said. I can make allowance for the disappointment and irritate n. which are but natural; but yon must do right—y u in st give up to I’aal Flemyng this inheritance, which i/ justly his.” “For the la t time I t 1 you that I shall do nothing of the kind. 1 sha I keep what is legally mine." “It seems unnatural for a girl so I young and beautiful a? you t > be mercenary and dishonorable," said Eth ■!, . sadly. "Leonie, if von will nt do right I must. 1 shall send (aptain Hem . ng the japer I ha', e found." “You will not dare to do anything of

the kind. ” exclaim? d Leonie. "I mU't,” said Miss I'a-re. st Hl mor? sadly. "1 tould n t rest with s:.ca a secret on my c nneience.” "But, Ethel," permuted Leonie, “why med you tell Um? W. are t ■b. : - ri. d very seo ewe not? Then all that I have will be his. of what use \ is it to make ali this s i-and exclt '-l ment if 1 were going to marry any I any one else. I eon Id better understand : your decision: but. when all will Ik* his I .-os on. why dist'irb matters, why cause unending mischief?" "Yon cannot b serious, Leoni ' you cannot thin , of making such a c inp/oniis? with your conscience. The inheritance is Captain l lemyng’s, irre- j speetive »f any mat r age, and yo 1 : must admit that it ought lob? made i over to him at once." A sneer that was not pleasant t > ■ marred the beauty of Leonie Rayner s voting lace. “You are very z.'tiYus Mi - I a re. It is ha d to believe that y; ur plea 1ings are entirely disinterested. Perhaps yon think that if ( aptain Flemyng were Earl of Uharn’e’gh he would transfer hi- ath diens." Th > noble face grew pa'. r, bat a bright light shone in Et.iel Dana's eyes. “You are wrong. Paul Flemyng is a j noble, loyal gentleman; he love- you— ■ you alone-of all in the world; and he I will never care for tiny oi.eel e never, while the world stands. It i? becau-e he is so loyal that I wish you were different for his sake. I mu t tell him what I have found. He can please himself to act upon the discovery or not." : " You will understan 1 that,* if you interfere. all friendship between us is at i an end. Miss Dacre.” “I shall be sorry for it, but nothing ' can give me so much sorrow as to find ’ that I have been deceived in you. Oh, Leonie. I pray heaven to change your | heart, to take from you that fatal I worldly vanity which has transformed a noble disj o ition into one that has no nobility. ” She waited a few minutes longer to see if J.e mie xvould say anything more to her, and then, noticing the sullen, gloomy expression of the beautiful face, she went slowly from the room. Before she had closed tl+e door Florette entero.L _ "It is growing late, my lady: is it not time that you dressed for the concert?” ‘■l am not going,” said Leonie; and '■ there was something in the despondent ; tone of her voice that caused the maid , to look into her mistress' face. She was startled and surprised at what she saw there. “You are ill, my lady,” sho said: “your face is as white as death.” “I am tired,” explained Leonie: and there went up frem her hear, a great yearning cry for rest from the warfare that seemed to have no end. “Then you will not go out, to-night, my lady. at. all?” questii nod the maid —"you will not go t > the ball?” “No; give my compliments to Lady Fanshawe, and tell her I have changed my mind. I shall not go out to-night.” "Shall I take any message to Miss Dacre? ’ “No,” replied Leonie. with a sudden hardening of her voice and sac I have nothing to say to Miss .Dacre.” It seemed very strange to i lorette. An hour since she had left her lady all eagerness, all anxiety about her dress —full of animation, and thinking only of the ball, she returned to find her pale, dispirited, and gloomy. “Shall I put away the diamonds, my lady?” asked the girl. Leonie looked at them, those shining, precious, costly gems. She had bean So proud of them, she had thought

to much of them, how could she piiFshem up? “There is one thing I must not nol 1 1 lect,” she sail to herself. “I must ill at once to Grown Leighton and ilcstr « that will. I shall know no more pea J j until it has peris’ el. I will goto-in® I row, before Ethel can let. Paul km< what sho has fiund; and then I defy them all to make me glvtjgip tW which the law has said is mine.” w CHAPTER Xtu. s'y Lady Fanshawe was at a loss—nejj since sho had lived with Lady leigh had such a message been sen her. Sho sent once or twice to inquiring there was anything Lady Cbarnkjß requir d: the answer was always same, "no.” So, while the groat wJBT went cn its way, heartless, iejo{^Ht careless of all suffering. Leonie laH»* a darkened room during the f.eßw’ bar.l battle—at war with herself, She had foreseen no such compßp.« tion as this when she 1 al deeideA, hiding the will. Would anyone-IwL dreamed that the old earl wouJi-J” filled with such a sentimental to write a letter and place it inV,?. picture of the woman he loved for son to find? - aEf “I am in reality n^pvorse off was before,” she thought; “findiiwr* j letter will prove of m consequerM^M loss they can find the will—and tlif*’: will destroy ” Su?h a hard, worn, wearrotiS;^,^ camo over the young face as comflj^,. ly changed it. She was thinking O s such desperate deeds. Thus fa- on*he 1 uth, she would not ret aee her Du she would not lo( k back. Sho had per.led all that she held most HewL tier heart’s love, her soul’s salvatStj. it was not probable that a few w<Ej^ from Eth i Dacre would change her "She (ailed me dishonorable,” the girl; “ what would she call mljf she know that 1 had not < nly foundh, will. lut 1 ad hidden it—that 1 willfully defraud d Paul Flemyng’. A keen, burning sense ( f humiliate^ tilled her heart a 1 the time. S c thought with angry imjatiemo of b: ilha it scene where she had intofl^ this night t> reign a queen; th nght of the engagements of th'? rm rr xv which she would I o cblig< j t , fi rego. “I wish I had never icon Efepi' Dacre,” sh" sai I to herself. "I wiL j . ha I 1 o‘ Ie her t uch that picture.J Sho imagined t) herself how l!m e l w übi writ - that very evening to I% U ] incl >siag the letter and bidding hiin hasten t > ( r wn Leighton to tejrch for the will. He would ha-ten oagkjrly thither, a d th ugh she I eiiev/j it i ore and eeure, who c u!d tell ijhut I might hain-en? Ho might tir.df it, and —- Then h".- conscience reproaehed^er; -he knew I’an too w< 11 ! o imagineFhat he would act in that way his truH in her wa? t< o great, he was too loyito I hims ■ f to dream of disloyalty in ger. St 11 it wrs imiM ssibl > to say .‘hat Ethel would do: she would in ant Sase make her discovery jmblic, and] th< n 1 eouic, who had enjoyed the h 4 tago paid her who bad onjoyo I hei |overeignty over men—would incur heir (•onteinpt. There wa- no f> resi aing what, might happen, and the 0.11^^“ plan -h ' cou d think of wa 1 Wgro ome to Crown Leighton and d^troy I* । the will; then she would feel secure. I There was a train that 1 ft I.ondon i quite early in the morning for Crown ’.eight n. She would g • by that. Th ro | wa? no need to info: m Lady Fanshaive; she could leave a no e telrtng her that : she had gore to < rown L-ightoa on ! important husim -s, but he should be only a few day- away. Sho rang tJo le i. a:.d to’d Heretic to prepare for j the journey. “Do n t look -o astonished. Floretlo: there is nothing so weak as always e v j pres>ing creat -1 rprise. You will g t up to g 1 with me m tin- morning; buq ! rcinemb r, n t cne word to anv enq] about the Uurnej,." * U "1 wi!> not nv .ti it. mv lady,” said! the maid, quite -'ibdued by the vehe-l "I am not the only ] erson who ha ? I bee’s c ■•;npe Ito take a sudden jour- ■ ney,” rejoin'd Le nie, a though her j conduct required vindication. Tlie maid wa- dismis-ed. and sho was left alone —alone to watch through I tlie long summer night an I wait impa- ■ tiently for the dawn, sho could not sleep: the danger emed to > near her — too ever-present. There could lie no more rest for her until the will was destroyed, sho -at ar the window- — 1 she list ned to the distant roll of car-riages—-he watched th * dark shades’ ( f night creep over the earth—shb j watched the stars glow one by one in 1 the azure sky. And then, when her: eyes had grown wearied, she lay down to iest - not to sleep—with sleep came dreams too horrible to bear—but to rest, until ti eearly dawn should chase away ; the shades of night. |TO BE COXTINVED. i The Trogon. In the woody solitudes ofSm^M America, concealed tor in the densest forests, is found that mostcurious bird, the Trogon. not less remarkable for the delicacy of his flesh than the beauty of his plumage. They are sometimes seen on the. j summit < f tree?, but in general they prefer the center, where they remain a portion of the day without descending t<> the ground, or even to the lower j branches. 'There they lie in ambush 1 for the insects which pass within reach ' and seize th; m with dexterity. They have many cries, from the sound of one of which their name is derived. Some of them express the syllable “pio, ’ repeated many times in succession, with a powerful yet plaintive tone. Their accent reminds one of the wailings of a child who has lost its way, and it is thus that they cry to each other amid the silence of the foi e?t. tn the mythology of the ancient Mexicans, one species of this beautiful bird, the Golden Trogon, was celebrated and watched over with great care. According to Cortes, 1 oval physicians were appointed to watch over the health of these birds, and they had attendants, ?ome of whom procured their food, others distributed it. and others watched over the eggs at the time of incubation. At certain seasons they were r. bbed of their feathers, which were highly prized for their beauty. A variety of the Trogon is found in Africa, of which it is said that the mo I ment the y. ung are hatched they take I flight and follow their parents.* It is also said that there are several species I in Asia. •

CAPITOL KITCHENS? A VISIT TO THE BASEMENT OF THE SENATE. Ovens Which Will Roast Oxen and Gridirons Big Enough for sheep—Glimpses of Our Big Brained Statesmen at the Dining Table. What Senators Eit. Ccngross wants new kitchens. A committee of the House has teen ap- I pointed to investigate the matter, and the members i re by no moans satisfied with the dark rcoms and old-fashioned cooking utensils with which the basement of that part of the Capitol is turn's! ed. Ti e lesUurunts of Conjgress do as big a business as any hightoned es.t ng 1 ovses in tl o United States. Nearly a t ousand peop’e are fed daily at tie tables of the Hi use ’■cstav.i ant, ai d fully five hund.ed have their stomachs tickled by tlie appetizing vivode dirtied 1 p in ti e restaurant of the Senate. The r enate cf the United I States recently put in new kitchens, 1 rj ! F ’ SENATORS I'EEEER AND Wot.COTT. and theio is no club house in the world that has a better 1 ulinary apparatus. Our greatest statesmen are more particular as to their bill-of fare than they arc as to the bills before('ongress. They want ail the latest frills in the fashion of their di-hes, and they use everything that modern inventit n can I supply to help them in their cooking. I nave spent some time this week in sampling the gxd things of the restuurants and have made a study of the Senate kitchen. The latter cannot but be interesting to the W( men of the United Slates. They are away down under the ground. You go through 7 inding stairways into the sub-base-ment of the Capitol. The kitchens, st 'rerooms and b ikeries of the Senate form one of the bmiest parts of the Capitol building. It takes about thirty employes to run them. You see whit -apn ned, whitecapred men everywhere, and there are cooks and di-h wash rs, oyster shockers and bakers, making up a corps large enough t > run a big summer hotel. The main room of the kitchen prop-T is i.’> feet wide by 100 feet long. It et ntains two ranges. ea< h big enough to roast an ox, and it ha? patent steamers and bakinsr machines here and there about it. In one corner is the biggest soup pot in Washington. ■dLwlii hold hUhO tw > bu-iu' s of liquid 7and it is the size of the larcest apple . tnitter kettle. It is made of the brightI est of red cop; or and it is used for 1 ke ping the stock for the miking of - - - — —- -S~- - ■ j '•.l * V '"A <■ - the - ate kii n \ he soup. Nickel-plated steam pipes run hrough it and the liquid is always >ot. A little further over there is a dipper pot of about half this size, h.-at-ed in the same way. in which the cranl*rry sauce and apple sauce which is citcn by these Senators is ecoktd. and j near this is a patent turkey roaster, j Ik would make your mouth water to 1 know just howgo< d the turkeys ccoked bwthis process are. They are roasted bytsteam, and the roaster is a double ire® box about as big as the average dr| goods box, within the walls of which steam is conducted by nickelplaled pipes, thoroughly roasting the ma>a r d ducks and the twenty-pound turkeys which are laid away within it. An, 4her featm e of this kitchen is th" frpijw ft is a gridiTon so large that lax d e largest, sheep upon it and^^'il This te-ts over a bed of rf .q A°t charcoal, and the fire is such tha t r'^ e steak or chop can be well done l/if^jCminutes. This grill is kept going ißmit six hours a day, and the ' juicy : meat which comes from it has madefmost of the gray matter which you will find in the alleged brains of the Congressional Record. Theldining rooms of these Senators are wcLth looking at. Their walls and I O 1 I 1 SENATOR STEWART'S CHAFING DISH. ceilings arA frescoed. They sit around the finest o? d mask cloths on chairs of oak, cushion'd with green leather. Their dishes are china and their forks are of silver- The most of them prefer steel knives, and silver is only used ’ tor the cutting of fruit. The common j dining room is apart from that used by the Senators, and there is a pie and ' oyster counter pre ided over by wait--1 ers. At the e the statesmen now and • then take a snack, but the most of

them are good livers, and they take a full meal at noon every day in the year. ■ Funny to Watch ’Em. It is funny to watch them eat and to see “ Upon what meat these our Caesars , feed that they may grow so great.” Take Don Cameron. He looks like a dyspeptic, and as ho sits in the Senate he chews his red mustache as if he j were hungry. He is as lean as a rail, and you would never suppose that he was one of the biggest caters of the Capitol. He likes rich food, and he washes his lunch down eve ;y day with a pint of champagne. One of his favorite di-hes is calves' liver and bacon, and he smacks his 1 ps three times a week over a chafil g di-h stew. Senator Stewart cf Nevada is another man who is fond of a chafing dish stew, and there is a baker's dozen of Senators xvh > think that oysters served in this wiy form a dish fcr the gods. Senator Stewart ccoks his oysters himself. He call for a dozen of the finest selects and these are brought to him at the table and a ( haling dish is set before him. There is no water used. The < yutors are stewed in their own li ;uor in a large gla<s oi the best sherry wine, and in additi nhemit?ina big lump of butter and the ye’ksof two eggs, and then salts and pepers to ta>to. It is one of the richest dishes known to public men and is very productive of gout. Senator Hawley knows wha* is good, but he usually takes a light lunch. His favorite dish is chicken s up, and aft r this he has a piece of apple pie and a glass of milk. If he has a friend with him he spreads him elf out over the whole b 11 ot fare, but when alone his lunch is a light one. Senator Sherman is another pie eater. His favorites are apple and custard, and he always takes a glass of milk with his lunch. Senator Frye lunches on apple pie and a cup of tea. Uefferof Kama? e nfines himself to a bowl of bread and milK or an pyster stew. Joe Blackburn and Arthur P. Gorman are both fond of go d living. Senator Hoar of Massachusetts has the reputation of being a light feeder. He is. however, one of the richest gourmands of the Senate, and he is fond of filling his round stomach with a chafing dish stew, and he dotes on sweetbrea Is served up in butter There is nothing too gocd for Senator Wolcott. He wants his food I highly seasoned and 1 e is very fond of pheasants and other game. He likes a nice porter-house steak served so rare that the blood runs down its sides. He THE NEW YORK SENATORS. eats a big meal every noon and the day is cold indeed xvh m you find wrinkles in his stomach. All ‘of these Western men live well. Hansbrough and Dubois want the best that the cooks can provide. Senator I’erkins of California i-. a great feeder, and his colleague. Senator While, picks ( ut a half dozen dishes and eats them all. These men st Hom dine alone and the average statesman likes comj any at his meals. Henry Gab t Ledge usually biings a party in with him. and Tom Fee J, Julius C ( sar Burrows and D diver, of lowa, come to the Senate a .d eat their lunches together. Senator Cush Davis is one cf the big fish <aters of the Capitol. He likes anything that conics fri m the water, and he feeds his brain on black bass five time- a week. The New Y< rk Senator- usiia'ly come t > lurch together, and they arc both good f< de.s, though Hill merely nibbles at the dishes he orders, while Murphy eats all of the b;-t and lots of it. Power, of Montana, is a dyspeptic. He has no stomach to speak of, and he looks at his victuals with such a vinegar aspect that his milk has to le boiled before it is brought to him for fear it will sour. His regular lunch is a bowl of boiled milk and a plate of brown bread well toasted. He breaks the tcast into the milk and di.-hes it up with a spoon. Senator Stockbridge, of Michigan, ’ wants the best he can get. but he never drinks anything but water or milk. 1 I ■ ^4^.o I ■ 1 SENATOR VEST AND THE OYSTER. 1 Turpie, of Indiana, lunches on oysters and wants fruit every day. Yanee, of North Carolina, is satisfied with a sandwich, and Dan Voorhees eats enough country sausage and cakes to give any other statesman the gout. Wilson, of lowa, usually dines off a glass of milk and a piece of apple pie, and Roger Q. Millscan fillup his bread basket with chicken salad and feel like a king. National Capital Notes. President Cleveland signed the Federal elections repeal bill, and it is noxx’ a law. The gold reserve in the Treasury Friday lacked but s(»,2sti of the 81€0*ObfljOOt', cf xvhich it should consist. Miss Laura Houghtaling. of Asheville, N. C.. a niece of Senator st ’ck-, bridge, died al hi? residen -e in Wasliington. SECRETARY' OF THE NANY HERBERT has appointed a board to examine Lieut. Fillett. of Portsmouth, N. H., as to his sanity. The distillers arc laboring with the Senate Finance Committee to seem e an extension of the bonded period, which they say is ab olutely necessary. A bill is said to be before the House Committee on Appropriations having for its purpose the control of the National Soldiers' Homes by the War Dej artment. Veterans generally do not approve of the bill.

AN AUBURN MIRACLE. AN ACT OF HEROISM IS FOLLOWED BY DIRE RESULTS. Edward Donnelly Saves a Life Almost al the Cost of His Cwn—Alter Years of Suffersng; He Is Restored to Health—His Story as Told to a Reporter of the Auburn Bulletin. [Auburn (N. Y.) Bulletin.] It is on record that upon a chilly April day, a few years ago, an eight-year-old boy fell into the Hast River at thefcotof East Eighth street, New York, and when al effoit? t? rescue him had failed, Edward Dcnnelly, at risk of his own life, plunged into the water and, when him.-elf nearly exhausted, saved the boy from drowning. It was a humane and self-saci ifieing deed, and received deserved commendation in all the newspapers. There is a sequel to this accident, however, which thus far has not been published. It is to the effect that Donnelly was paralyzed is ale ult of ths cold plunge ana came near dying. Auburn people have known the family since his wife was Amanda Grantman and his sister Mrs. S. D. Corry, of 21 Moravia street. Donnelly himself describes the rescue a d the icsu'.t “I xvas general f rema 1 of the F. A.. Mulgrew Saw Mills, so >t of E ghth street, New York, on the Hast River. It was 1 n the 2< th of April, issu. that the boy fell into the river, and I rescued him from drowning. At that tima I was in the water so long tha I was | taken with a deathly ch 11, and soon became so stiffened up and weak that I could neither work nor walk. For feme time I was under treatment of Dr. George McDonald, who said I nad Locomotor Ataxia. He final>y gave me up, and on the Ist of Jun?, 1:92, my wife and I came up to Auburn. “When the di. ea e first came upon me the numbness began in my heels, and soon the whole of both my f ?et became affected. There was a cold feeling across the small of my back and downward, and a sense cf soreness and a tight pressure on tho ehe^t. The numbness gradually extended up both legs and into tho lower part of my body. I felt that death xvas c eeping up to my vitals. I was still tukieg the medicine (‘lt was lodide of Potassium,’ said his wife . and was b. ing rubb?d and having plasters put all over my body, but with no benefit. “1 sent to the Chas. H. Eagar Comnny, the popular Auburn druggists and chemists, at 101 and 111 Genesee street, tmd got three boxes of Dr. j Williams' Pink Pill and began taking i them. In three weeks' time I xvas so ; improved that from being helpless, I was able to help myself and to get up 1 and go to work, and to walk every day from No. 74 Walnut street, where I I then lived, to Osborne's New Twine I Factory. Seymour and Ccttago streets | —more than a mile—where I was then • employed, but all the while I was tak- । ing Pink Pills. “Then Dr. Patchen. of Wisconsin, j uncle of ray wife, and who was here on a visit, began to poo-hoo at me for taking Pink Pills, and finally persuaded me to stop taking them and lot him treat me. When he returned to the West he left a prescription with Dr. Hyatt, of Auburn, who also treated me. But their treatment did me no good, and after a while the old trouble returned and I was getting bad again. Then I began to take Pink Pills; have taken them ever since, im taking them now: have taken in all nearly 20 boxes at an entire cost of less than 810 00 (my other treatment cost me a pile of money], and again I am well and able to work. ' ?-If I was able I would at n y own expense publish the virtues o* Dr. Williams' i Pink Pills to the whole world, and especially in N w York City, where I am much better known than I am here.” Dr. Williams’ Pink Pills for Pale People without doubt mark the beginning of a ! more healthful era. They were first com- ■ pounded by an eminent practitioner, and used as a prescription for many years in , general practice with almost incredible success. They are now given to the public ’ as an unfailing blood builder and nerve restorer, curing ali forms of weakness aris- ’ ing from a watery condition of the blood or shattered nerves, two fruilful causes of L almost evTy ill that Heah is heir to. These 1 pills are also a specific for the troubles pe- , culiar to females, such as suppressions, all forms of weakness, chronic constipation, bearing down pains, etc., and in the case of men will give speedy relief and effect a ' permanent cure in all cases arising from mental worry, overwork or excesses of whatever nature The pills are sold by all dealers, or will be sent post paid on receipt of price (59 cents a box. er six boxes for s2.so—thev are never sold in bulk or by the 100) bv addressing Dr. Williams Medicin* Co.. Schenectady, N. Y., or Brookville, Oataria Woman’s Taste. A cultivated taste marks a woman of elegance and re ’nement as decidedly as a knowledge of classical literature does a irentleman: and there is nothing in which female vulgarity is more clearly shown than in want of taste. This is an axiom that we think will not admit of dispute; but it is a question how far taste is natural, and how far it may be acquired. A delicate taste murt, to a certain extent, depend upon the organization of the individual: and it is impossible ; for any rules to be laid down which । will impart taste to persons entirely i devoid of it. ; : ■ But this is very seldom the case with > women, as it is one of the few points ■ in which women naturally excel wen. Men may le, and probably are, I superior to women in all that requires profound thought and general knowledge; but in the arrangement of a house, and the introduction cf ornamental furniture and articles of bijouterie, there can be no doubt of the innate superiority of xvoman. Every one must have remarked the difference in the furnishing of a bachelor's house and one where a lady i presides: the thousand little elegancies i of the latter, though nothing in them- | selves, adding, like ciphers, pro- ' digiously to tiie value of the solid articles they are ap: ended to. Curious F ate of a Sparrow. An English sparrow met a curious and untimely death in London recently in trying to take a drink of water from the famous Temple fountain. A gold fish, it is declared by witnesses, jumped up and seized the bird by the leg. A second fish did likewise by the bird's other leg, and between them the sparrow found a watery grave. FOUR State prisons, those of Connecticut, Michigan, Montana and Washington, use deprivation of religious privileges as a punishment.