St. Joseph County Independent, Volume 19, Number 33, Walkerton, St. Joseph County, 3 March 1894 — Page 7

AWJIT« Th* Story of a Woman’s Atonement, by Charlotte M. Braeme. CHAPTER XLTl—Continued. • Sho had not lain long before she heard the sound of footsteps; then the door of her room opened, and Ethel Dacre entered—Ethel, with a light on her noble face—the light of fixed, de- I tormined resolve. She set the lamp that she carried in her hand down on the table, and went up to Leonie. She knelt down by the bedside, and placed her hand tn the hot brow. “Leonie,” she whispered, “Leonie, my darling, I could net help coming to you —I could not part from you in anger, as we parted to-night. We are, both of ’is, motherless—we have neither of us a sifter—and we have been a great deal to each other. I ■could not retire in anger, Leonie, because I love you so dearly.” The noble face softened into unutterable tenderness as the bent over the angry girl. “I know you are not plea-red with me,” she continued, in the same low voice. “If you were but an indifferent acquaintance, your right or wrong doing would not seem impoitant to me; but j’ou are my dea ed friend, Leonie, and I cannot see you acting dishonorably without coming to plead with you. ” “I hope you will spare me all preaching, Ethel. I had quite enough of that this morning." “I want to plead with you, not to preach to you." said Ethel. “You shall not harden your heart against me, Leonie: you shall not turn coldly from me. I love you, and by right of my love you must hear me.” “I cannot really tee what it matters to you,” said Leonie. “How dees it concern you? You can have no interest in the inheritance.” “Do not speak to me si, Leonie: my interest is in you, and in your soul; it is for your soul's sake that I co ne to plead with ycu now.” “I can take care of my soul myself," ■said Leonie, abruptly. “You can; but will you do so? Let ?me speak t) you as your own sister itaight speak; try to think that I am ;iour sister, Leonie, and then you will have more patience with me. My darling, right and wrong aye so clearly marked out for you —do not mistake them. Believe me, unless you give up this inheritance, which never was veurs, you will be unhappy all your life; you will never know peace or rest again: you will even despise yourself. Honor and honesty both call upon you Ito give it up.” “Then they call in vain, Ethel’, for I nhall never do so.” “You will. I have more faith in you than you have in yourself; you will do right in the end. It is a terrible tem;>tation—l admit that. Because you love luxury and magnificence so dearly—became you love all that wealth brings—it is a great temptation; but, Leonie, there is something far above all this.” “That is p.-eaching, Ethel.” Miss Dacre bent over the fair face; ®he looked tenderly at the rare perfection of its loveliness. “You are so beautiful, Leonie,” she murmured; “your soul should match your face. See, my darling, there are two paths before you: have patience with me while I sketch them.” “I must listen, I suppose," said Leonie, resignedly. “Yes, you must listen, 1.0 nio. Suppose you do what is i ight—you give up I to Paul I- lemyng, before your marriage, whit is justly his—the money, estates, land, aid title the late Earl meant to leave him. Before God and man you Will then have done a just and hen rab e deed: aid what will you be the werse for it? Year husband—who will never know cf this argument—will admire ycu as the most loyal of women, and pet pie wi l have faith in ycu 1 ecause you have proved yourself capable of being honest at any cost to y< urself. I tan see naught in which y, u can suffer, but in every respect you will gain. Y<u will have a fair name before men. and a clear, bright, biave soul before heaven. Oh, Leonie, think what that m ans; think what it is to have the clear light cf heaven on you—lo live so that you may find a home in that better land. There is the other path. You may, with perhaps some •show of legality cn your side, keep this inheritance; you may humiliate the man you are going to marry by giving .him everything, which in reality he ■ought to give to you; but I say to you that in doing so you imperil your own soul. Leonie, those are not light words. Suppore that half of England were your.-, and that a wonderful extension of life were given to you—that you w’ere allowed to live over a hundred years—you must die at last, what, then, would it matter to you whether you had been rich or poor? The great ■concern would be to have saved your soul. Lecnie, can you say honestly that you are even trying to save your soul when it is weighed down by such a sin as this? Can you fancy what the hour* of death must ba for one who has lived a life of fraud? You know that, if you keep this which is not your own, you can never honestly raise your head am mg your fellow-creatures: you will be burdened with a sin of wrong-doing and misery that can never leave you.” “Ethel, you are waiting your time,” «aid Le :me. “No, I do not think so. You turn from me proudly now; you refuse to listen to me: you despise all that I am ; saying—but you will remember my | words, for all that, Leonie. Youv.il remember that I, who love you with a deep, true, disinterested love, have knelt here to pray you for your soul’s ?ake t> act rightly and honorably. Leonie. I have another idea about you; 5. I am wrong forgive me. I have fancied from your manner, from your feverish restlessness, from your craving for excitement —I have fancied, i Leonie, that all this is not strange to you; that you had perhaps found the will, and had hidden it.” A low moan answered her. When she looked at the white face, she saw that Leonie lay in a dead swoon. “Was I too hard upon her?” murmured Ethel. “Oh. no! Heaven knows that I have only told her the truth." CHAPTER XLIiL “Ycu are not angry with me, Leonie?” said Ethel Dacre, when the violet ■eyes unclosed at last, and Leonie looked round with a half-bewildered air. “No, I am not angry—leave me. Ethel. I cannot heir any more; you try ma beyond my strength.” Nor would she listen to another ■word. In sheer despair Miss Dacre

went away at last; there was nothing now to trust to save time and prayer. If prayet would save the unhappy girl, then Ethel Dacre would pray earnestly. Meanwhile Leonie — sick, shuddering, her heart full of dread and fear—lay watching for the dawn. “She will betray me—sho will tell every one what she suspects. Is it possible that I shall ever be found out?” The very thought made her whole soul grow sick with fear. “Found out"—she whispered the words to herself —“found out to be a thief?” She would fain have annihilated I time and space, so eager was her desire to take hold of the will and destroy it. Nothing could affect her if that were once destroyed; no human being could give evidence against her, and she should live and die Countess of Charnleigh. Ethel Eacre might betray her —she might tell the story of the letter —she might even whisper her suspicions about the will; what mattered it all when nothing—absolutely nothing—could be proved against her 9 She laughed aloud —a harsh, discordant laugh—terrible to hear from the lips of one so young and fair. “I have imperiled my soul,” she said, “I have sacrificed my love, and have sent the man I love to" exile and death* surely the small matter of losing the esteem of my fellow-creatures cannot hurt me after all that. It is the last sacrifice I have to make. Goodness, love, honor, honesty—all are goto; self-respect may follow them, the esteem and good opinion of my kind go with it, but I shall live and die Countess of Chai nleigh.” Suddenly across the dull gray of the morning sky she saw a gleam of gold, and then she sprang up, knowing that the morning had dawned. She changed the white muslin wrapper that she still wore for a dark tiaveling dress, and as she did so Florette gently o ened the door. She brought a cup of tea and a fresh roll to her lady. Leonie eagerly drank the tea, but did not touch the roll. “Try to eat something, my lady,” said the girl, “you will faint.” Then came to Leonie a dull wonder as to whether sho should over eat again; her heart was like lead within i her, her face pale, he * hands trem- I bl d so that she could not fasten her cloak. “We ■will walk to the nearest cabstand," she said. “Ojen the door quiet y, Florette; I do not wa it to disturb any< ne.” So, in the early dawn of the summer morning. Leonie left a magnificent home, where she had lived so brilliantly, to commit one of the most treacherous of crimes. Florette a-ked no question; yet she wondered what this sudden journey meant —she wondered why her lady s face was so sternly set and white—why the pale lips were so rigid and compressed. Crown Leighton was reached at last. Great were the surprise and bewilderment of the whole household at seeing their lady. No one could understand it. Leonie asked at once for Mrs Fearon, and, more than half bewildered, the housekeeper entered her presence. “You are surprised to see me here so early,” she said. “We cannot spare many hours from London now, so 1 came by first train, and .-hall return perhaps this evening." “I will do my best to carry out your wishes, my lady,” said Hie woman: “and you will not find the house in bad order. Shall I prepare some breakfast for you?” “No.” Loonie could neither cat or drink again until that will was destroyed. She went to the room, almost dreading to look in the hiding-place lest the will should be gone. She locked the door, and then went with trembling, faltering steps to the place where she had hidden the document. It was safe; a little cry escaped her when she saw it again. She took the cause of all her misery in her hands. “You have cost me my love, and you may c >st me heaven.” she said; “now I will destroy you. You shall cost me no more." But how was she to destroy it? There was but one method, and that was to burn it. "If I were t > tie it up with a stone, and throw it into the sea,” she said to herself, “it might ri-c again. I will burn it —I will watch the smoke from its ashes curl in the air—l will watch the ashes disperse in the wind; then, in my own right. I shall know that I am Countess Charnleigh cf Crown Leighton. How was she to burn it? If she carried it down into the servants’ quarters. and was seen to put it into the fire, rumor might rise and tell against her. She must destroy it here in her own room, unseen, unknown by all. “One more falsehood and I shall be free,” she said to herself, as she rang the bell. Mrs. Fearon answered it—the maid was resting after her journey — and looked somewhat aghast when her lady asked for a fire. “A fire?” repeated the housekeeper, as she looked from the beautiful, restless. feverish face to the glowing sun outside. “If you do not think it too wai m " “I have taken cold—l am c dd,” said Leonie; and the shudder with which she uttered these words gave them the semblance of truth. “Early rising is not good for you. my lady,” decided the woman; "I will light the'fire for you myself.” i A few more minutes and a bright fire j was blazing in the grate, contrasting oddly with the glowing sun and sultry warmth of the June day. “I will ring if I want you,” sail Loonie to the housekeeper, and then she I eked the door and went to the h:d-ing-place where lay the wi 1. As she passed the great mirror she started back in sore affright. Surelv that ghastly pallid face was m t he s; those i wild burning eyes so full of fear, th so i pale trembling lips—surely they did i not belong to the beautiful, radiant girl whom people called Countess of Charnleigh. “Wicked deeds do not suit me,” she said to herself, with a la ugh that sounded like the cry of a lost so il. Then she sto d before the fire with the will iu her hands. “I am going to commit a crime,” she reflected. —“a crime for which in olden days men were hung." Why did she pause? The red flame blazed merrily; the door was closed; no human eyes could see her. Why did she hesitate? Good and bad angels had fought for her; good and evil spirits had waged ■ fierce battle for her. Iler own self had i J been at war with her own self. She had

= — Hp lips told her she was imperiling hM* soul; she had given up her hope of heaven. Why did she pause over tMs crowning act of her sin. “ She had said to herself that sle would keep what she had at all risit She knew that she would lose her fir name before men—that she would ie forever estranged from those site loved best; yet sho had weighed all that In ' her mind, and it seemed to Lor as nothing in comparison with what she gained by her sin Why did t a hesitate? The red blaze seemed to laugh as it reared h? d he r hand to thrust the will far into the soft glow and then paused. not do it-she had tried, and fai ed; she could not, she dared no? . do it Perhaps the good angels had won the battle—perhaps the evil spirits had lied. She could not do it- that crowning act of her sin was beyond her Slowly the arm that held the will dropped: and present’}* the roll fel from the nerve! ss hand to the sloes and the gb 1 dropped on her kn?es witl a passionate cry and passionate tears! “Merciful heaven,” she called, “help me to do right!” The trial and struggle were ovet^ she was no longer at war with hers^V the better nature conquered the lowfi one, loyalty had beaten down fm® hood, honor had shan ed disht^^K She who had boasted so proudly fw she would risk all f< r Crown Leigh t® lay weeping a helpless, humble child! The temptation had be >n a terrible one—it was trampled under foot now. Looking back, Leonie thought she must have gone maul. She had tried to be brave and hardy in her wrong- : doing; but she had a nobler nature than she herself knew of. When it came to the last act in the d ama, her m b e heart, her natural goodness, and her early sense of right, were all stronger than temptation, and they be at it down. The relief was as cioling dew-drops to thirsty flowers; what soft, sweet showers are t > parched trees and arid grass, such to her soul were the tears that she shed—they seemed to bring grace and healing with them. “H< w could 1 dream of this wicked I deed?” she sold ed alou 1. “Never again shall tuch an evil spirit hold me in chains. I will live and die loyal and true, even though I may not be Countess of Charnleigh.” She remembered the o’d saying. ‘The won a i who hesitates is lost.” “I will deliberate no longer.” she said; “I will p’ace myself beyond temptation: I will place this in Paul Flemyng'shand, and then I cannot go l ack. Left to mys'lf, I m’ght fall again; if I do there can be no retraction.” When the pa-sion of her tears had been exhausted, she rose from the floor; then she stooped and carefully picked up the will. “1 will not stop to look around me," she thought: “I will n t linger over the magnificence of Crown Ix-ighton: I will go at one \ before the temptation return- oven stronger than before." And without one glance at the sumptuous chamber, without ohe look id the splendor she had loved so well, sht put on her traveling cloak and wen* down stairs. I “Mrs. Fearon," she said, “will \ order the carriage? 1 want once to Welldon. I have not a Uiuhie® to spare.” ’ Wondering a little at what th< ught her lady’s caprices, the housiJ keeper hastened to comply with het request. |to be coxtixceh i SCRUB LANDS OF AUSTRALIA. ('hineM' :<s Srl -Acting Machine* for Oprr.. hiU the <‘oii’>try. The “lawyer vin ■” is the worst ob» -taele to the cl‘arii g of landr in Aus* tralia. It is a kind of palm that grows in feather} tufts along a pliant stalk and festoons it e’s as a creejxT upon trees. From Ixnoath the tufts of L aves the vine tl rows down trailing suckers as thick as stout cords, armed with sets of sharp tel barbs. These sueke s sometimes throw themselves from tree to tree across a road that has not been lately med. and make it as impas-abl •to horses as-o many st rands of barbed wire. When the vines escape from the un lergrowth of wild ginger an t tree-fern and stinging bush that fringes the scrub, and coil themselves in loose lo >ps upon the ground, they become dangerous traps for man and horse. In the jungle, where they weave them-elves in und< ut of the upright growths, they form a net that at times defies every means of destruction but tire. The work of clearing ground incumbered is not light. In some districts it is done by Chinamen. They are not allowed to own freehold land in the colony, but scrub land is often h a e l to them to clear and use for a certain number of years. The grounds when it is cl a-ed, is extraordinarily] rich, and they appear to recoup themselves for tneir labor with the first crops they grow upon their leaseholds. The ownei* afterward has it in his’ power to resume his land, and thS| Chinaman passes on to clear and use the scrub. In this way the Chinese are employed as a sort of self-actinJ machine for the opening ci tin* mnA try. They* devote themselves princij pally to the cultivation of fruit. .4 i walk around a Chinese garden is an| instructive botanical excursion, sos many and strange are the edible varieties of fruit to which one is introduced. Spices, too. and flowers flourish under the care of the Chinamen, and the fields of bananas and pineapples dotted with oranges and mango orchards, which stretch for miles beside the sugar plantations, are nearly all Chinese. Slapping the Wrong Man. A funny incident, accompanied by a witty retort, was enjoyed the other day as the crowd was surging out of one of the theaters. In front of a party of gentlemen was a man with his ollar turned up above hi- ears. “Why, there is B,” said one of the party’. “He doesn’t seem to s. o us: I guess I’ll wake him up." At the same time, and without : top]iing to think, he stepped forward and hit the bundled-upindividual a terrific slap on the back. The man turne I around as he received the blow and disclosed to the astonished eyes of ’ the hilarious gentleman the face of a 1 t ital stranger. He he-itated a moment : before the calm nnd inquiring gaze of the man in front, and then, stepping ! forward, said: “I beg your pardon, : sir: but, to tell the truth, 1 took you 1 for another man. ” “I am,” was the quiet reply.”—ln- ’ dianapolis Sentinel. 1 The deepest artesian well is at Pots--1 dam, 5,500 feet deep.

THE SUNDAY SCHOOL — I SERIOUS SUBJECTS CAREFULLY CONSIDERED. A Scholarly Exposition of the Lesson—- , Thoughts Worthy of Calm Reflection— Half an Hour’s Study of the Scriptures— Time Well Spent. Selling the Birthright. The lesson fur Sunday, March 4, may be found in Gen. 25; 27-34. introductory. 1 here soenu to us a remarkable •prcv.de: ci in the anan;emont of th>se lesson topics. One by one they have come to us just at the nick of time, apparently jm-t the word for the hour, rhesj have been revival days m many communities, and the Sunday schools and eongrogath ns have been deeply stirred by the cordial appeals Os theio Old Testament lessons. Adam's sin, the flood, Gid's call to Abram, God’s judgment, on Sodom, the trial of Abraham’s faith, and now this telling of the birthright— ouid a better list of heart-si a-ebing topics have been devised for times of awakening? May -God bless these messages to many souls to-da,’l POINTS IN THE LESSON, “The toys grew.” One wav or the other they g o.v still, but which way, parent, teacher? “A cunning hunter.” Cunning to hunt for things that pe: ish, not cunning to se ‘k the th : ngs that abide. How many like Esau, knowing (the literal of the word m ich; knowing nothing. “A pain nan.” i. e., simple-minded, unambitious, there are two moaning! cf the word—simple in the sense of upright cr perfect same wurd at Job 1: 1), and simple in the sense of innocent and unsoi histieateil m argin of I Kit gs 22:34 . This latter seems to be the special significance here. Esau was a qu ek, rea ly, versatile fellow. Jaccb was more if a quiet homebody—but shrewd in his way. But the fault was not so much in the sensuous indulge: e*. It was in the other side in the spiritual indifference displayed. Nut so much that he preforre l pottage, but that, as the Scriptures say. he “despised hi< birthright.” Thote was moral obtuseness. In choi sing lentiles he ignored life. Or rather ho snati bed so • one sort of life, —low sort, a d in -o d ing threw away the higher and Letter s >rt the real goal of living. The word despise, here, means, first of all. t >t’ e id. Esau, like many another careless, happy-go-lucky kind of a young man, walked over his be-t interest-, trample I them under his feet in reaching for j ettv delights. Let us not .-ay that he was uniustly treated. Whatever tl e unbrotherly rch-sceking of Jacob, itself of course reprehensible, E-au here disclosed his unfitness for the b>st, because of his inappreviation of it No matter though he may seek it si crowing he is unworthy of it as the i’rov-e:bs-av, “Ho that despis. th his ways shall die." It is the ;a ne law as to be carnally minded is death." HIXTS AND IM.t STUATIOXS. L (ur voung m?n. Apply it particularly to tb" young, rather press home its rp; oai u, on all the undecided and the unrepentant. What a e you doing with that previous Hfo of yours? What will mm give in exchange for his foul? Many a man is selling his hope for a song, his birthright for a me-- of the wor d s |x>ttage. May lea new and. as it -cems to me, a better applicati< nofth* wnh < .ive not that whi ’h is holy unt > the dog-, neither east ye yo ;r p -urL before swine." What wa our Savior - caking of in that Sermon on the Mount but of the life, its conduct, it- cher-' ishing. it • us.-? ^’oung man. waich way is ' our life throw n? It was amm-ing and yet pitiful the sight of that o'd ma . and woman at the World’s Fair in Chicago hurry ing away from the sergeant’s oflic ■ with their recovered sachel. Every cent thev had in the world they had tak -n with them t > the “Windy City” and t > Jackson Park keked up in a mere handsachel, and there th y had gi no off and left it on the -eat of one of the tram- a-s. Foo’i-h, wa- it not? And vet how much more uuspeanably so >l--i» it to trii'e with this li eof curs as we do! We carry about a- ul, mere precious than gold which per shes. “iedeemed not with corruptible things such as silver and gold, but with the precious blood of Christ, as of a lamb without spot.” What are we doing with this precious legacy? How are we guarding it? We were cal’ol t> Pittsburg the other day, f* r an item of service in the kingdom, and it gave us an opportunity en route to renew the scenes of youth. There betAveen the Yonghiogheny and Monongahela rivers in Rostraver Township lay the old homestead. “grandfather’s ’ we used to call it in schuTbay days, aqd O the happy vacations spent in and about its hospitable shade. Comirg up the hill slope toward the plac • the i ne-tiuie boy was picturing to himse.f the tinngs Ue used t > know a seo e or more of years ago. But the old farm hal got into the hands of strangers, renters: you know what that means. “The Cana mite was then in the land." And so there was a disappointment or two in store. One thing especially the traveler wai thinking about, that old spring in the orchard, who e he used to turn his little water-wheels. And so quite scon he said to the one who was kindly showing him about, “Let me see the old spring in the orchard.” “Spring? There is no spring there.” “Oh, surely there is. I -pent many a happy hour at its side.” We went 'out to look for it. Thiough tangled briar and nettles we pushed, and there at last under an old bent apple tree we found—a noisome wallow for swine. Aud that was what neglect had made of the dear old spr'ng. Next Less n “Jacob a* Bethel.” Gen. 28: 10-22. Millions for defence, not a cent for tribute. —Charles Finckney, in a speech made concerning the Jay treaty with England. These words were used with reference to France, the treaty being ill-received by the Directory, which hinted that a money payment would smooth over the difficulty. Delaware has 9,000 farms, valued at $37,000,000. The State produce I in 1889 4,000,000 bushels of corn and 1,200,000 of wheat. It exports every year 7,0C0.000 quarts of strawbeiries and 55,000,000 baskets of pra bes.

SAFETY ON RAILROADS. Lessons Taught I y the Many Fatalities of the Year *93. That 1893 was a dark year in the history of railroading in the United States is beyond dispute. No year has seen so many fatal accidents. Whatever the causes of this state of affairs may have been the railroad men have awakened to the fact that something in the way of safeguards must be found. Representatives from 181 roads, operating 131,000 miles of track, recently met in New York for the purpose of discussing the outlook and devising means to prevent accidents in the future. Many sj eeches wore made and several plans discussed at this meeting and it may afford the traveling puhiicsome satisfaction to know that its interests received as fair consideration as did those of the railroads. Among the new devices proposed for the sake of safety is one which will not allow a train to approach too near an open drawbridge whether the engineer is willing or not. It consists of a combination of levers. When the bridge is open “trips” are raised indde the rails and these engage the air-brake levers of an approaching train, bringing it to a standstill. The mechanism is ingenious. The opening of the bridge disengages a sliding bar operated by a spring. This sliding bar is connected with a crank, which in turn o erates a line of gas pipe which extends for a suitable distance along the track. Its end farthest Irom the bridge works a rocking shaft, which raises the “sips.” Another safety device embracing the same idea is intended to stop trains approaching a bridge which has been burned or has fallen for any reason. Extending along the bridge parallel with the rails is a line of rods connected with fusible joints. Tiie land ends of this system of rods operate levers which throw up “trips,” the latter engaging the air brake levers of locomot ves. If the bridge is burned the joints connecting the rods are melted; a powerful spring throws up the “trips” as soon as the tension of the line of rods is release 1. If the bridge falls the joints are snapped and the same result follows. If the bridge sinks slowly and not su I ciently to break the joints the extra tension of the rod-line, which must follow the sinking bridge, operates the “trips.” Thus this simple ami ingenious device gives earning of three distinct dangers. And the engine and train would be stopped just the same if there was no engineer aboard. This is a very important consideration, for the best of s goals may fa 1 of th< ir purpose if j the engineer lor any reason disregards them. That is the chief reason why the block signal system is nut an absolute safeguard. Electricity lias been called upon to play an importa t part In recent devices. By its means signals of every nature can be ojierated,crews of trains can talk with those of other trains, an engineer can be kept informed of the distance that separates him from a train he is follow ing, of a misplaced switch, of obstructions and other daiuers ami in fact every clement of danger can lie eliminated through its agen v—if! There is an “if,” ami an important one. At the meeting above referred to it developed that many of the railroads through- ■ out the country, through a desire to pay big dividends to stockholders, I have gradually fallen into the fault} of employing operatives who were' far from being competent and trust- I worthy. This is the ‘if.’’ If the railroad companies would employ only such men in positions of responsibility who had I een trained to the work — men who could be trusted to read an i interpret signals and act accordingly—all the>e devices would perfectly attain their object as safe- i guards. It ihe men who operated ; the signals could always be depended { upon ail would be well. But here rises another question: No man in a position of responsibility, be he ever so capable, can be depended upon if he is overworked. This is another fault which some of the roads have fa len into through their desire to deciare big dividends. As long as there remains a* possibility that incompetent men can find places of trust on railroads tiecause they are cheap, or that competent men must be overworked because there are not men to take their places, so long must the traveling public be subjected to dangers. Too Much Too Expect. It is wicked to envy other people, but what girl doesn’t look with envious eyes at that other gill,— Who has a fascinating dimple in either cheek? Whose hair looks ] retty wh n it isn’t curled just so carefully? Who has cunning little feet that she doesn't have to keep constantly I covered with the hem ot her skirt? Who can say childish things, and not appear idiotic? Who is always well informed upon current events? Who knows how to receive a compliment without an emban assing blush and painful simper. Whose hands are plump and white, ' and whose nails are pink and even? Who lias the knack Os saying the right thing at the right time? Who doesn’t care a cent how she looks or how old her gown is? Whos * nose doesn’t get all shiny and need to be powdered every half hour? Who, when she is ill, can look pale and big-eyed and interesting, and does not have some horrid ailment that makes her eyes swell and her nose red and her voice a deep base? Some people are willing to have their Kin declared insane, in order that the State may take care of them.

NEWS OF OUR STATE. A WEEK AMONG THE HUSTLING HOOSIERS. What Our Neighbors Are Doing—Matters of General anil Local Interest—Marriages and Deaths — Accidents anil Crimes— Pointers About Our Own People. Minor State Items. Greencastle wants a telephone exchange. Thomas Watt, a farmer living near Richmond, was found frozen to death. New Albany residents are raving mad because insurance rateshave been ruined. Mr. Eldridge, residing on a farm near Lexington. Scott County, is said to have discovered a vein us petroleum on his place. A Laporte firm made note of the snow which accumulated on their hayscales one day last week, and it got up to 2,400 pounds before night. Several days ago Mrs. Aseneth < ox was found dead, with her neck broken at the home of u relative in Monrovia, supposed to have been caused from a fall. While four men were engaged in raising a barn near Huntingburg, several rafters fell on them. Ben Niehaus was struck on the head and was probably fatally injured. Gov. Matthews has finally settled the matter of the vacant trusteeship ou the 8 fate Normal School Board by appointing Col. Lewis B. Martin of Terre Haute, to succeed Dr. Spann, who died recently. A six-year-old son of Wm. Chestnut, three miles west of Orleans, while playing with his little sister, fell off the fence, strikina* his head on a sharp stone, which penetrated the brain and caused his death. Samuel B. B jyd has been appointed trustee of the Southern Hospital for the Insane, succeeding Solomon Gimble. Mr. Boyd is a young man and the publisher and proprietor of the Democrat of Washington. A woman at Mecca. Parke County, telegraphed the Sheriff to come in haste. The Sheriff, with a deputy, hurried to Mecca and found a woman quarreling with her neighbor. He swore some and returned home. Charles Reigle, a contract carpe: ter, who moved to Muncie from Indianapolis, fell a distance of over twenty feet from a building, and received injuries that will prove fatal. He is a well-known G. A. R. man. The )K>liceof Muncie found a colored ; tramp under five feet of straw in an old l barn. He was unconscious, and had ■ nothing by which he could be identii tied. He wa - taken to the City Hos- ! pital and died The man is very light I colored, aged about forty-five, and had jon a tine suit of clothes. He had a can । of water near him. under the straw. । He died of lung trouble and exposure. Frank Cripe, a life prisoner from Elkhart County, has been pardoned by Gov. Matthews. Cripe was sent to the Northern Prison in December, 1883, tq^ serve a life sentence for killing a night- ! watchman named Self in a drunken ' row in the city of Elkhart. In comi nany with several young revelers Cripe had been "decorating” the town, and in an altercation with Self the latter was shot and kille I. During the past week the Controller o f the < Inrreney has been officially advised of changes in the officers of Indiana national banks as follows: First National Bank of Greencastle. M. A. Bridges, l ice President, in place of Andrew M. Lockridge, deceased: Nai tional State Bank of Terre Haute, V*. i E. Donaghoe. cashier in place of C. M. I Warren, deceased: State National ' Bankof Logansport, s. W. Ullery, Vice i President, in place of A. L. Pogue; : Liwrenc? National Bank of North i Manchester. Aug. C. Mi.ls. President, in place of George W. Lawrence: John M. Curtner. Vice President, in place of Aug. C. Mills, and David Whisler, Assistant Cashier, in place of John M. Curtner. The Mod^ Glass Company, recently located at < fcero, has started ten pots in its facto* giving em: loyment tc 150 hands. The factory, when comj pleted. will contain two ten-pot furni aces and two IfiO-ton continuous tanks, । and employ over 500 people in the • manufacture of green flint and ambei ware. The location of this industry has brought many new people to the town. Every bui.ding which can be used at all is occupied, and private residences are converted into temporary boarding houses for those who are unable to secure dwellings. Cicerc to-day controls the largest territory in the gas belt not traversed by field' destroying pipe-lines, and bids fair to have rapid growth. Patents have been granted Indiana inventors as follows: Williams. Baugh. Farmers' Institute, hay loader: John J Becker, assignor to Wayne Oil Tank Company, Fori Wayne, barrel truck; Jnoinh L Wrrrton. Ma?-tznvi'!e. boat; John B. Carter. Kokomo, fiber disintegrating machine: William Coppage, assignor of one-ha’f to W. H. Larimer, Terre Haute, corn holder for grain binders: Isaac Davis, Greenfield, stamping block: Josiah C. Gooding, Covington, book holder: Albert B. Hall, Indianapc.’is. trituratingand powi dering machine: Fred S. Hunting. ' Fort Wayne, transformer: Eli Klink, i Salem, mole trap; James G. Lightford, i assignor of one-ha’f to 11. Stacey, InI dianapolis. combined steam and gas motor; Frank M. McCarty, Shelbyville, i dental engine mallet: Allison H. Nordyke, Indianapolis, sack case lor packi ing machines: Robert I. Patterson, | Muncie, fastening for jars: Thomas J. I Piers. Jeffersonville, steam actuated . valve: John F. Fribnow. Indianapolis, | device for shaping swaged saw teeth; Jacob U. Teeter. Hagerstown, grain, mea-uring. registering and sacking machine: John. W. Vaughan, Taylorsville. grinding mill. J. W. Eward of Converse, has had in his possession for thirty years a Mexican bond fors->O. He has received, a letter from Minister Isaac P. Gray that the bond, with the interest, is now worth $116.50. There appeared in a Cincinnati paper last week an advertisement for male correspondents wanted by Mabel hitemore of Brazil. There are over 200 letters in the Postoffiee at that place addressed to her and the Postmaster is afraid he will have to move into more commodious quarters if she doesn't get her mail or land a husband soon.