St. Joseph County Independent, Volume 20, Number 1, Walkerton, St. Joseph County, 21 July 1894 — Page 2

RO S S S SRR . U@L RAT LAST N7\ MISS M E BRADDON : fif/ N N\ \g eye

L R '3 P o ;Qg F). . S 0 X { S 5 3 Lo &R RS e l"{- "W/ [N ‘ Nad FRNE Y (ST "T.'.:" : /Ui‘ \\Vf ‘!fl S\o (ilf e \ \ \,‘, ;Q" . E- ‘51!"7 I \,‘ ‘;\L ) /,’ \N \ N N7 " - . ’/L : ;\‘ 1 ] u o | ~I" : j = : ; ’ [' \ ', ) i | v/.'.' s o - E' - o : / = o s > E‘l CHAPTER XlX—CUonfinued. Infashionable as was the season, Mrs. Walsingham was i““ m fifi“'“'

R ; .;.-.. .;\ A1 LIAIAL OATAON CA - wmore, she abhorre o beauties of Nature, and regarded winter residence in the country as an exile bleaker than Ovid's banishment to ¢hill and savage Tomis. If she had been rich enough 'to have indulged her caprices, she 'would have gene ally begun the year in Paris, but she had an income which just enabled her to live elegantly without any indulgence of caprices. This winter, too, she had peculiar reasons for staying in town, over and above all other motives. Shestayved in the snug [little house in Half-Moon street, therefore, and was “at home” on Saturday ‘evenings just as if the season had been at its tlood. The society with which ishe filied her miniature drawing-room fwas literary, musical, artistic, drammatic—just the most delightful society imaginable, with the faintest soupcon of Bohemianism. She had chosen Saturday evening because journalists ‘who were free on no other night could drop in, and Mrs. Walsingham adored Journalists. . On this particular Saturday, three 'days after the scene in the summer- | house, James Wyatt had made his ap- } pearance in the Half-Moon street draw-ing-room just when most people wcm) going away. He contrived to outstay them all, though Mrs. Walsingham's , manner was not so cordial as to invite | him to linger. She yawned audibly | behind the edge of her larse black fan | when Mr. Wyatt took up his stand in | front of the chimney-piece with the[’ air of a man who is going to be a fix- { sure for the next hour. “"Have you heard the news?” he ] asked, after a brief silence. B “From Davenant? Yes, [ am kept | Protty well au courant.” f " “A sharp little thing, that Duport.” !- i “Nery.” - Silence again, during which Mrs. |, Walsingham surveys her violet velvet |

Yooking up at him, “! think 1 nave ‘1) r- | ill !bnlt quite under. !anl you. I' s ‘ “Oh, ves, you do, Mrs . Walsingham. ! There are some things that will hardly bear to be discussed, even between con- | spirators. I am not going to enter into | dotails. When 1| found you in this | room three years ago on Gilbert Sin- | «<lair's wedding-day, vou had but one | thought, one desire—your whole being | was athirst for reveng:. You are revonged, and I have b:en the chief in- | strument in the realization of your wish. A wicked wish on your part: doubly w'cked on mine, with less passion and weaker hatred, to be your aider and abettor. Soit. [am content to bear the burden of my guilt, but not to be cheated of my reward. What I have done I have done for yvour sake —to win your love.” ““T'o buy me,” she said. “as slaves are bought, with a price. .‘Fhats what you mean. Youdont suppose 1 shall tove you for working Gilbert Sinclair’s yuin?” “You wanted to see him ruined.” “Yes, when I was mad with rage and grief Did you think you were talking t o sane woman that evening after Gilbert’s marriage? You were talking to a woman whose brain had been on fire with despair and jealousy through the long hours of that agonizing day. ‘What should I long for but revenge then?” “Well, you have had your heart’s desire, and it seems to me that your conduct since that day has been pretty consistent with the sentiments you gave expression to then. Do you mean to tell me that you are going so throw m= over now—that you are going to repudiate the promise you made me-—-a promise on which [ have counted with unflinching faith in your honor?” “In mv honor!™ cried Mrs. Walsingham, With a bitter sneer, all the more

bitter because it was pointed against \ herself. “In the honor of & woman | who could act as [ have acted!” ! “{ forgive anything to passion: but | *0 betray me would be deliberate cruel- \ By, \ “Would it?” she added, smiling zn} him. “I think it would be more cruel | 10 keep my word, and make your life | miserable.” ' \ “You shall make me as miserable as | you piease, if you will only have me,” ! urged Wyatt. “Come, Clara, I have been your slave for the last three years. ‘ 1 have sacrificed interests which most | men hold sacred to serve or to please i youl. It would be unparalleled basene=s 0 break your promise.” “My promise was wrung from me in o moment of blind passion,” etied Mrs. Walsingham. “If the Princa of Darknoss had asked me to seal a covenent with him that day, [ should have consented as freely as [ consentad to your bargain.” “The comparison is flattering to me,” replied Mr. Wyatt, looking at her darkly from under bent browa. There is a stage at which outra:ed love turns t 0 keenest ha'e, and James Wyatt's feclings are fast approaching that stage. “In one word, do you mean to keep faith with me? Yes, ov no?” “No,” answered Mrs. Walsingham, rwith & steady look that meant defisnce. “No, and again, no. Tell the

&\)%W*** Sy world what you have done, and how I have cheated you. Publish your wrongs if ycu dare. I have never loved but one man in my life, anl his ‘xmme is Gilbert Sinclair. Ard now go d-night, Mr. Wyatt, or, rather, gcod-morning, for it is Sunday, and I don't want to be late so: church.” CHAPTER XX, DR, HOLLENDORF The new year began with the ringing of pari:h bells, some genuine joviality in cottages and servants' halls, ard various conventional rejoicings in polite society, but silence and solitude still reigned at Davenant. The chief rooms—salooaand dining-room, library I and music-room-—were abandoned altogether by the gloomy master of the house. They might as well have put on their Holland pinafores and shut their shutters, as in the absence of the family, for nobody used them. Gilbert Sinelair lived in his snuggery at the end of the long gallery, ate and drank there. read his newspapers and wrote LR lattars Clel n(f) dozed in the

deal in all kKinds o1 weather, goinghgg-r 1‘ {afie d, no one ki «where, and com- ; ‘home at dusk, splashed to the neck, and with his horse in a condition | peculiarly aggravating to grooms and stable-b ys. n | “Them there ‘csses will 'ave mud fever before long,” said the hirelings, | dejectedly. “There’s that blessed chest- | , nut he set such store by a month ago { with "ardly a leg to stand on for wind- | galls, and the roan filly's over at knees | a'ready.” ' “"He' meant Mr. Sinclair, who was | riding his finest horses with a prodical recklessness. | | Corstance Sinclair lived to see the [new year, thonrh she did not know | l why the church bells rang out on the | quiet midnight. She started up from | | her pillow with a frightened lwn]]yc when | she heard that joy peal, crying that | those were her wedding bells, and that | she must get ready for church. | | “To please you, papa,” she said. “For ] lymn' sake, papa. Pity my broken | | heart, " | { There had been days and nights at {the end of the old year, when Dr. i Webb had trembled for the sweet voung life which he had watched a'- / most from its beginning. A greit physician had come down from London every day, : nl had gone away with a ! fee proportionate to his reputation, | after diagnosing the disease in a most - wonderful manner; but it was the little ’ country apothecary who saved C(onstance Sinclairs life. His \\utchfnhl ness, his devotion, had kept the common enemy at bay. The life-current. which had ebbed very low, fHowed rradually back, and after lying for ten fiays in an utterly prostrate and apathetic state. the pat'ent was now strong enough to rise and be dressed, and lie on the sofa in her pretty morn-ing-room, while Me'anie, or honest Martha Bring, who had come back to nurse her old mistress, lead to her, to

| BLANCe SPpolKo 1L owas of tha past of hov LRGSO L Eitliood, ol people and and his rar: visits to her room had a disturbing influence. So much so that Dr. Webb suggested that for the pres‘vut Mr. Sinelair should refrain from | seeing his wife. | { Loan feel for you, my dear sir,” he { said, sympathetically. *“[quite under- | stand your anxiety, but you may trust ime and the nurses. You will have all ‘ intelligence of progress. The mind at | present is somewhat astray.” } “Do you think it will always be so?” asked Sinclaiv. “Will she never recover | her senses?” “My dear siv, there is everything to hope. She is so young, and the disease {is altogether so mysterious, whether | the effect of the blow--that unlucky { fall-—or whether simply a development | of the brooding melancholy which we i had to fight against before the acci- ‘| dent, it is impossible tosay. We are | quite in the dark. Perfect seclusion | and tranquillity may do much.” { Lord Clanyarde came to see his { daughter nearly every day. He had | come back to Marchbrook from far | more agreeable stenes on purpose to be i near her. But his presence seemed to | give Constance no pleasure. There L | were days on which she looked at him | with a wandering gaze that went to | his heart, or a blank and stony look that ' tappalled him by its awful likeness to { death. There were other days when - | she knew him. On these days hLer talk - | was all of the past, and it was clear 'lthut memory had taken the place of | { intelligence. l ‘ [Lord Clanyarde felt all the pangs of | remor:ze as he contemplated this spec- | tacle of a broken heart. a mind wrecked 1 by sorrow. | “Yet 1 can hardly blame myself for her sad fate, poor child,” he argued. “She was happy enoughy=:bright l enough. before she lost her baby.?

The new year was a week old, and since the first rally there had been no change for the better in C(onstance | Sinclair’'s condition: and now there came & decided change for the worse. i Strength dwindled, a duli apathy tock \ p s:ession of the patient, and even | memory seemed a blank. t Dr. Webb was in despair, and fairly ‘n\‘;ne(‘l his helple:sness. The l.ondon | physician came and went, and took his fee, and went on diagnosing with pro- \ soundest science, and tried the last resources of the pharmacopeia, with an [ evident conviction that he could minister to a mind diseased: but nothing came of his science, save that the patient grew daily weaker, as if fate and physic were too much for one feeble sufterer to cope withal. Gilbert Sinclair was told that unles: a change came \ery syeedily his wife must die. “If we could rouse her from this apa thetic state,” said the physician: “anjy { shock—any surprise—especially of ¢ | pleasurable kind - that would act ox | the torpid brain might do wonder; | even yet; but all our attempts to inter: | est her have so far been useless.” .| Lord Clanyarde was present when | this opinion was pronounced. He wen! home full of thought, more deeply con | cerned for his daughter than he hac | ever been yet for any mortal excep | himself,

*Poor little Connie!” he thought, ¥ % membering her in her white frock 8% blue sash: “she was always my fav@l, ite—the prettiest, the gentlx;at.‘ 1 'most high-bred of all my girls, bulg didn’t know she had such a hosl‘d uptis my heart.” At Marchbrook Lord Clanyas found an unexpected visitor waitills for him—a visitor whom he recoivés with a very cordial greeting. 2 Soon after dusk on the followili evening lLord Clanyarde returned Davenant, but not alone. He <§ with him an elderly gentleman, W 1: white hair, worn rather long, andsp white beard—a person of almost patéis archal appearance, but somewhat dif] figured \)y a pair of smoke-coloréd spectacles of the kind that are V# garly known as “gig-lamps.” -1 The stranger's clothes were of i shabbiest, yet even in their decs looked the garments of a gentlem#s He wore ancient shepherd’s plaid trés sers, and a bottle-gréen overcoat of ploded cut. 7% x b= Gilbert Sinclair wa§in the hall wki Lord Clanyarde and his companiongg rived. Mr. Wyatt had just coms dag from London, and the two men w 3 smoking their cigars by the great B§ fire., the noble o!d, cavernous heat which had succeed the more medi=e fashion of a fire in the center of the hi “Mv dear Sinclair,” began Lord Cls ! varde, with a somewhat hurried g 3 nervous air, which might be forgi_ M 4 in a man whose favorite daocademmtSe

venwred to biitg <o old friendofmin g Doctor Hollendorf, a gentleman , r has a great practice in Beriin, and wa@has bad vast experience in the treaff: ment of mental disorders. Doctor Hol lendorf, Mr. Sinc air. I beg your pafl: don, Wyatt, how do you do?” inteflJected Lord Clanyarde, oflering the ¢l licitor a coup’e of fingers. “Now, Gt bert, I should much like Doctor Hiy lendorf to see my poor ( gnece, may do no good, but it car 2y 8 and if you have no objectid z 235 Webb's concurrence, of conghia 28 8l like—" OADE. “Webb is in the house,” YanSgSl" | ](;illmrt. “You can ask him foryge { selt. I have no objection.” R i | This was said with a weary air, | the speiker had «eased to take any HRi | | te estin life. Gilbert hardly lookedi@h | ’ the German, or Anglo German, doe g | but James Wyatt, who was of a ma§ | | observant turn, scrutinized him attelie ; tively. e { “Here is Webb,” said Gilbert, as ¥ i | little Doctor came tripping down $8 | great staircase, with the lightsomes lti\'it,\ of his profession, rubbing IR- ! hands as he came. o { Lord Clanyarde presented Dr. i | | lendorf to the rural practitioner, &f [ stated his wish. Dr. Webb had no @ ! jection to offer. Any wish of a fathes IS must be sacred, { “You will come up and see her ¥, | once*” he said, interrogatively, ! “At once,” answered the strang | with a slightly guttural accent. ’ The three men went up the sta case, Gilbert remaining behind. “Arent you going?” asked Wyatt. &y | "No: my presence genorally difltu ‘ her. Why should I go? I'm wanted.” i a?m' go il 1 were you. How ', | you knoW what this man is? Anig. | pudent guack, in all probability, \“ ought to be pre sun!..: 50 “l‘N‘: -'ti n{,n“x‘ f!tfipk SOO ;.

t;i;nv, ‘i‘-f':\:-':';:‘-;-;—:‘.)‘ I vt WY, g Lo “What do you mean:” asKou R = ~ Mrs. Sinclair's morningSroom was . spacious, old-fashioned apartment, wh h three long windows, one opening #ka a wide balcony, from which an ion % stair led down to a garden, small and | secluded, laid out in the Duteh style— | l a garden which had been always sacflad i | to the mistre s of Davenant. Thére | { were heavy oak shutters, and a com- | { plicated arrangement of bolts and bars | ‘ to the three windows, but as the:q | l shutters were ra ely clo ed, the stair | { and the balcony might ba considered | ‘ as a convenience specially provided for | the benefit of burglars. No burglars | ’h:ui‘ however, vet been heard of ai | é Davenant. | Tre.e was a piano in the room. | * There were well-filled book-cases, %ictures, guaint old china—all things that | | make life pleas nt to the mind that is | | at ease, and which may be supposed to | | offer some con:olation to the care-bur- | dened spirit. The fire blazed merrily, | | ard on a sofa in front of it Constance reclined, dre:s>d in a loose white cash- | { mere gown, hardly whiter than the | | i wasted oval face, from which the dark- | : ’ brown hair wes drawn back by a band | | of blue ribbon, just as it had been ten | { years ago, when Constance was “little | | Connie,” flitting about the lawn at ' ‘ Marchbrook like a white and blue 1 butterfly. : ‘ I : {TO BE CUONTINUED. ! : z Brigandage im High Circles. ! i Brigandage is assyming alarming | .| proportions in Europe. The official | | gazette at Athens announces that a | | new election has been orde ed in acer- | '} tain district of Theszalv in order to | fill the scat in Parliament rendered | | vacant by the mhnw%),zflvpssman ‘ | Kalambaka to penal servitude for com | plicity with the banditti infestimeg” > 1 province. A\t Palermo the Italras« = ' ernment has just arrested Barod Ue ’{ Ramo on identical grounds, a pcc}‘har ' | feature in his ca e baing that he IS a | > | millionaire. In the north of Italy we | - | have Count Serpiere, commanding an | > | infantry regiment at Verona, and g | Ll very rich man, arrested and court-mar- | tialed for having stolen an innumer- ’ | able quanity of plate, chielly forks and | L1 spoons, which he was in the habit of i 1 pocketing wherever he dined, no mat- | ~ | ter whether it was a private house op " | a re-taurant. Ile ! s o » | A Luminous Tree. -| “Everyone has heard of luminons 1 i 1\)};1:'11\’ ;m:'i shrubs.” said a gentleman of ¢ | Nevada, “but comparatively few people | are aware of the existence in our State | S i of a luminous tree of la ge propor- | e | tions. The Indians have always enter- | tained a wholesome diead of this tree - | and have a number of legends connectv| ed with it. Itis a valuable landmark a | at night, as it can be seen half a mile n i away, and the phosphorus substance s | which exudes from it is so powerful - | that it is possible to read a few weeds of print held close to it. Several botn | anists and tree scientists have made t | purpose journeys to inspect and raport -| on the tree, but I have never seen g d | really intelligent explanation of what t | scems to be quite a unique phemom- | enon.”

1 v §IRIKE IS AT AN END. e ete—————taeaats RAINS AT CHICAGO NOW RUN-‘ NING AS USUAL. 1 m Every Direction Come Reports of} Men Returnlng to Work, and Both Pas- ‘ senger and Freight Traflc Resuming Normal Conditions— For Arbitration. Trouble Is Over, The great railway strike is at an end in Chicago. Trains on all roads are moving. Passenger trains are again on time, and freight traffic is rapidly becoming regular. The railrcad comPanies have called a halt in the importation of new men to take the places of strikers. They claim to have manned all the important vacancies with comspetent men, and that the operation of the various roads is rapidly assuming normal smoothness. It is said by the general managers that there are now enough appiicants for work in.k‘hu-ugo to supply remaining vacancies, and that no necessity exists for bringing in more men from other I:llmg‘ centers. ¢t Onsome of the roads it is pretty . well known, though “officially” denied, Mm the. sumployment, gs gen the are given the preference, thoy e

- PEAPIRG T T eAT | ToO R N S iAvus 2 f? without exception the companies say they will stand by the new men who ; came forward at the risk of their lives ] (a8 they believed and took the places of the strikers. f In the scramble among former employes to get back their jobs some ! amusing incidents crop out. The pres- | ident of one of the largest corporai ti.ons was running through the excuses | piled upon his desk from employes ex- ! plaining how it happened that they had not reported for duty the last two or } three weeks, and found that out of 135 communications, thirty-two related to | births in the family and the conseguent | train of sickness and misfortune. On icompm'ing notes 1t was learned that the employing offcials on every other E road were overwhelmed with similar | excuses, which led them to the conelu- § | sion that strikes have an extraordi- ; naryly stimulating effect on population | | statistics. The epidemic of sickness | | in the families of strikers who want | to get back to work is w idespread and | | thelude s relatives of all degrees, from | wives, children, mothers and fathers | to thirty--econd cou-ins by marriage or - adoption. f Qulet Everywhoere. ? Reports from all over the country ' indicate that the greatest labor dise turbance which has ever occurred ia this or in any other country is at an ond, and it may be said to the credit of the authoritics that the trouble was suppressod with comparatively little bloodshel. Happily the struggle botween the armod representatives of order and those engaged in defying law, destroying property and obstruct. ing the operation of the rallroads centering in the great town of Illinois did not materialize to Sny great extent. ror those not disposed to reason the Al AL O LUW Iman in THAL | AFARE DU} B 00l g 2o Sio gt

i subiection. And it must be conHfimifib that the regulars bore themselves like brave soldiers in refraining from shooting when provocation to do 0 waa vory strong. . Cleveland jor Arbltration. - It is reported from Washington that the President will a point a commisslom, by th: authority given him by | the arovitration act of 1533, to investi- | gate the labor troubles at Chicago and alsewhere and report to the President and Conzress. This determination on the part of the President was arrived at after an interview with Secretary- | - Treasurer Hayes of the Knights of Labor, McGuire and French of the - Executive Committee, and Mr. Scheenfaber, who were introduced to the | President by Senator Kyle, and | who came bearing credentials ' from the American Railway Union, ' the Pullman employes, and sev- ' sral labor organizations. After | discussing the various features of the ' situation for more than an hour the | ' President promise | that if the leaders | | would return to Ch'cago and use their influence toward restoring peace and | order he would appoint the commission | as scon as the disturbances had ceased } | to such an extent as to render a care- | ful, thoughtful investigation possible. l SPIRIT OF THE STRIKE. { 1— \ | To Countenance Such an Uprising Would | , Be Dangerous to the Country. { Just when the bituminous coal min- ' ers’ strike had been setiled and it bel gan to look as if there was some hope | of the railroads being able to earn | enough to keep dnem out of the hands | | of receivers, the wheels on every road | from the eastern slope of the Missis- | sippi Valley to the Pacific coast were | either actually stopred, of active preparations were under way to bring { them to a standstill. Never was the action of the railroad ofdicials more impor:ant, never were the principles involied more vi al. The annual traffic { revenue of the railro:ds of the United | States amounts to considerably more ' than a thousand million dollars; it was | propose 1 to stop this revenue anil in ' so doing to cripple or destroy every | business enterprise throuchout the ‘count y whi h is dependent upon the | railroads for transporiion, while a few | hot-headed labor leaders settled a question of difference which hal arisen ' wholly outside of the management of | the railroad companies themselves. It was absolutely of no consequence ‘ ' whatever whether the position taken | | by Mr. Pullman, or the Pullman Palace LLar Company, was richt or wrong; { that question was in no way involved. | To raise it to the dignity of a moment's | consideration is to concede that the | | leaders of any labor organization have | | & richt to stop the turning of the | | wheels on 150,000 miles of railrecad, ‘ | while they settled a dispute with the | manufacturer of axle grease withouti the liberal use of which it is, of i course, unsafe to move trains. Or { they might pick a quairel with a car { wheel manufacturer and then insist | that all the wheels made by the con- | cern should bs taken off and replaced | b{ others, before the trains would be | allowed to run again. Indeed, these | propositions would be more reasonablo than the recant demand made, for thers

— ——— are numerous manufacturers of axle grease and of car wheels, but with the | exception of one other company whose cars are fully employed on a sow lines, theve are no sleeping or palace cars except those made by the Pullman Company. A prominent railway president stated the matter very tersely when he said: k The spirit of the strike, as I understand it, Is, by closing up the railroads and detainingz travelers all over the country wherever they may be, to create a public opinion which will compel the manufac- | turing company to secure work and do it, | DO matter what the loss may. With the | relations between the manufucturing com- | pany and their employes the railway com- ‘ panies have nothing to do, and 1t 1S none of thelr business, That is a matter which ! ought to be adjusted by the parties imme- ! diately concerned. But precisely how l stopping thousands of people on the arld»‘ plains of Arizona, and in the super-heated | beit of the Northwest, many of them wom - { en and children, many of them travelers | hastening to the bedsides of dying moth- | | er3, wives or children, many of them inva- | lids who may lose their lives by the expos- | | ure, is to compel a manufacturing cum-i , | pany to find contracts to build cars and | then bulld thew, is just one of those prob- | " | lems which the rallway mind IS unable 1o ) | BTAS | : It is impossible to contemplate the - | action of the many thousands of railT way employes in blindly following the - | mandates of an irresponsible leader, | Without a fecling of wonder and aston- | ishment, to say nothing of disappointL | CAUSS thoy arae o | only augments the duty devolving upon | the wanagers of the railroads in resist- | ing the influence of those who arro- | gantly assume the position of supreme dictators, and also in opening the eyes | of the poor, deludel fellows who fol- | low them. There is no middle ground for the railroad manager. To parley with, or in any way to recognize for a | moment, the leaders of such a strike, | would be a movement frauzht with the | greatest danger to the prosperity not alone of the rai'roads throughout the | country but, also, «f the country itself. STATUE OF GEN. HANCOCK. Set Up at Getiysburz in That Soldier’s Honor. The State of Pennsylvania has.given SIOO,OOO for the ereection of three statues on the fiold of Gettysburg and one of them is of Gen. Winfield Scott Hancock. The plaster cast of this last | ! has just been finished by the artist, F. | Edwin Elwell, of New York. and this | will now be cast in bronze. The statue will stand on Cemetery Hill, where T -’ A -\{» ,/:\ \ S f[‘ P Y Wi b ¥ e V| 0 u’{‘ o« =8 &t / ; SRR e Y \ w7 i, A N vy i i! "/ /\: - i with Gen. Howard aid his staff G"-c;m. | i Hancock discussed the battle. The | fizure is supposed to repre:zent him in ? the act of telling his asscciates that the { brunt of the battle would fail ion Rovnd Top. The scualptor’s idea Jias been to represent ! the inteliectual characteristics of the { commander, and not the merely physi- | cal. The height of the horse is six feet { six inches to the withers, and the en- | t re height of the statue is seventeen | feet. The horse stands on a well de- | signed architectural pinth, the work {of a friend of the sculptor. On each j ide is a cartouch bearing on one the t name of the sculpt - and on the other | the nam> “Hancock.” i Gen. Hancock is reprecented secated | &n the saddle in a position which Capt. | Ward, wio was his aid durine the | war, has p-onounced very characteris- | t'c. There is no sword or other ap- ; purtenance, the purpose being to make { the statue broad and dignified in | effect. The face wears an expressicn ‘ of intenss interest and the eyes are | looking out over the field. The horse | has three ‘est on the ground and one | raised pawing the air. ? - QUEBEC’S OLD WALLS. s The Famous Old C(itadel Fast Falllng { Into Decay. ‘ The old walls of the Citadel at Quei bec are famous. and are among the | 43 % 1 + moniment | '?" i-“ ",‘yr: a ~—l 1 ev have fallen into Lx d that some of the secret un- | dereround passages cont ’f.-“, fortress with the citvy have tumbled in iand b me fid i P and absoliutely 1““"'._.“‘" ‘1 i1 > f British L 40y 1y flr y g aa tweility Vears ago "-‘1;‘”:;,”-:: iln KXcepin INe « tade i1 per- { sect repair. That the red ent alarm | created by the neglect into which the fortress has fallen is not exaggerated is shown by th» annual report of the | Department of the Militia and Defense, recently submitted to Parliament. It is recomm nded in this document that a bodyv of ergineers and artificers be ’ constantly employed to keep the old | | walls in ord.r. Unless this is ;Ipne Quebec's elaborate system of fortifications, that has for so many years past proved cne of the principal attractions for tourists, will speedily crumble into | & mass of ruins. : : ‘ The money spent upon thoss works |in the past 1s simply mvrvml»;o_:; | Wooden fortifications were erected | thore by the French colonists, :um‘ SO | heavy was the expenditure, ‘together { with what was boodled by Bigot, the ' intendant and his associates, !n:x} Louis XIV. is reported to have asked | whether the fortifications of Q Iw‘)-"f’:" l were i‘ 9' of _‘,.‘"‘;'s- Ine present "":_s"“' f which T'X‘Ev"a'l(,' y those first ected &?," { the rovul engineers, date back to 1823, | and were carried out according \\ i'i;a_ti:i t submitted to and approved h__fl, the [ Duke of Wellington at a cost of some | 3__‘ y, 000, COO. ‘ THREE little boys at Fort Wayne, ‘ Ind., saw a woman push a man into the I st. Mary's river in thatcity. The man !dx'atgg'axi the woman into the stream | | after him and both were drowned, i

S N 835 U A Dy, % | ASSASSIN IS HANGED. e SLAYER OF CHICAGO'S MAYOR PAYS THE PENALTY. The Gallows Sends Patrick Fugene Prendergast Into Eternity —Remarkably Tenacious Legal Fight to Save His Life— Story of the Crime. Harrlson’s Murder Avenged. Without a word of protest or an acs of resistance, Patrick Eugene Joseph Prendergast suffered the extrems penalty of the law Friday for the lmurder of Carter H. Harrison. He - was hanged at 11:48 o'clock, in the county jail in Chicago. He walked to | the scaffold without support. iHe | showed no sign of weakness till the | moment tefore the drop fell, when |he stood with the ncose about | his neck, the white shroud enwrap--3 Fing his form, his feet and knees | etrapred together, his arms fastened | to his body, and the white cap cover- | ing his head and face. Then he almoss l—i ! ) ! - - | B~ : g -, : ? 7\\ 4 “"‘g i | N 4 7 | B\ ! 5 L ' 5 7 ' ,‘ i f A\ [N} ,\\ - S \@ = HNE==HE o | ' . \L | PATRICK EUGENE JOSEPH PRENDERG AST. gave way. His knees trembled and seemefl to sink under him. His breath (came in gas s and he gite convulsive ' gul, s that showed his nervous system ' was breaking. His rule was beating at 120 a minute, and he was on the { point of physical collapse when the ' drop fell. He died painlessly, a3 his neck was brozen by the fall. To the very last moment he expected to te saved from the scaffold by some power. Five minutes before he began his walk to the gallows he said ho cxpected to hear ' soon from th: Governor. He made no | sp-ech on the galiows. He had intended to do so, ,but was dissuaded by his s;iritual adviser, - Rev. Father Barry, who pleaded with ' him to submit to tue ineritable and not to make a scene. He accepted the ministrations of the priests who were with him to the last, and he receired | the last rites of the Catholic Church. . _Ten minutes before he stepped on the fatal trap he repeated the sta‘e- | in three minutes after Prendergast left - his cell he was swinging at the rope's end. Story of the Crime. | The erime for which Patrick Eugens ' Prendergast was executed was one of the most cold blooded and unprovoked | murders ever committed. On Saturday, Oct. =B, 1893, Carter H. Harrison, ' then Mayor of Chicago, attended the closing of the great World’s Columbian Exposition, and in his ecapacity as Mayor delivered one of the addresses of the day. The Mayor, tired and worn out by the performance of his many otticial duties, returned to his home on Ashland avenue at an early hour in the evening. Prendergast first visited the house at 7:30 o'clock and was informed that Mavor Harrison was engacged. A hall hour later he returned and was let into the hall by the servant girl. Mayor Harrison was asleep in his armchair, but was awaken A‘.! by Prendergast's voice and u':_tf:x{r;;‘}_ toward the main Falway. As he did so Prendergast advanced, revolver in ':A;;s id, and fired thivee shots at ‘f\;‘:'.i{arrison Two of the bullets to k effect. ‘!Ai.-g'('iy_f his right hand and the enterinr his stomach. The \d man sank to thz ticor and twenty minutes later died in tvhe arms of his son, William l’.'v;-?‘uzx }:‘uz‘:'l;‘nn. Immediately following the shcoting, Prendergast left the house and m.a(io his wav to Desplaines s'reet station, koo e oave himself up. From Des.t ~~t 2- station the murderer was taken to the city hall, where he made a statement concerning the shooting. He said he was very deeply interest:d in track elevation and was anx ous to be made Corporation Counsel in order that he micht carry out his jdeas on the subiject. He said Mayor Harrison ad promised to app int him Co! po ation Counsel, but ha fa'led to d> so, and for this reas n he thoucht he was justified in taking the Majyou's life. Efforts to Save His lase. . In its lezal pha es the Prendegast case is without precedent in the his- | tory of criminal law. Never before were such persistent and ingenious | efforts made to save a prisoners neck | from the noose. The defense set up the plea of insanity,and on this line the battle against justice was waged to the end. The assassin was at all times surrounded by legal talent we'l versed in the most intricate nnintfs of practice, and having all the technicalities at their command. Yet with all of these advantages the murderer of Mavor Harrison was unable to elude the scaffold which was twice erected for its vietim. Facts in Few Words. THE wages of female servants in Prussia range from $14.28 to $71.4C per vear: of males, $23.80 to $95.20. MICROSCOPISTS say that the strong: est microscopes do not, probably, re veal the lowest stages of animal life. THE wettest place in this country is Neah Bay, in Washington. Over 12inches of rain falls there every year. ITis about thirty miles across town in London, and for that entire distance there is said to be an unbroken line of | residences and stores.