St. Joseph County Independent, Volume 20, Number 19, Walkerton, St. Joseph County, 24 November 1894 — Page 8

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«^tw« «®|l i JI 1 1 — ... ; CHAPTER VIII. ’ “Well, mother, and when are we to ( have that little talk you promised me 1 now nearly two weeks a Jo?” "Ab ut what my dear?" "Surely \ou remembe ?” j < A vexed look passing like a shadow ( acr s< the round, good-tempered face, j showed that Mrs. Jardine did re uember, though she would have been glad enough to pretend she did not, and to shi k the question. j ; “Wnat, that entanglement of yours with the little Swiss girl? Oh, she has forgotten you by this time, depend ( upon it; and I was in hopes you had ( forgotten her. ” । “That was not likely, and I must beg ' ' of you not to call it an ‘entanglement.’ i j What I have to speak to you about is ( the very serious uestion of my mar- ( riage. You promise ito consider it. I J have waited, not m rely a few days, ; , but a whole fortnight and you have ‘ never said a single word to me on the | matter, whi h, you must know, is so; very near my heart. It is rather hard, i mother. ” It was hard, and to do the young man justice, he had behaved exceed- i' ingly well. Never sulky, never dis- ; trait, as is the manner of young men in love, he had set his mind steadily to do his best, had been at his mother’s beck and call from morning till night, had gone with her wherever she had wished, and done whatever she told him to do. “Mother.” he said sitting down by her and taking her hand—it was a wet afternoon, and she had just sent the ; ■carriage away—“you promised me to ■ think it over—this matter so very near my heart. Mother, have you done so? NY ill you give me your approval, ; and let me take your love and blessing ! with me—to Neuchatel.'” “And why ' What may be yourbusi- j ness at Neuchatel?” He turned bitterly away. “Mother, j do you think lam a" stone, that you try me so? You understand quite we I though you pretend to misunderstand. You know lam going to Neuchatel to ask Mademoiselle Jardine to marry । me.” “And then?” “Then, I suppose, we shall be mar- ■ riea.” “Might I in quire what you intend to marry upon'?” “I have not considered the question of 1 my income; > ut it keeps me. and it is doubtless enough to keep a wife. You , pay it so regularly that it is vou who * can best inform me its precise amount. 1 and whence I draw it for 1 should like ' naturally, from this time, to be as in- i dependent as possible.” “So you shall be, never fear, and j much good may your independence do I .you. Roderick Jardine, since you will be such a fool, hear first what you have to look to. When I married your father, except that tumble-down place, Bia khall, he had not a half-penny. 1 was daft to marry him, T know that but I was young and I was fond of him. Her voice trembled a little. “However, that's all past: and ho was a good man and a kind husband to me—always let me do as I liked with my own. i- or ■everything was my own and is still, and i will do as I like with it; mini that. ” “Os course; who wishes to hinder you. mother?” said Roderick, gently for the loud tongue was growing louder and the red face redder. Self-re-straint, he knew was not one of his mother s characteristics— perhaps that was why he had been obliged to learn it himself. “My money is my own” (“my ain.” she pronounced it, dropping, at she always did in excitement, into the speech of her youth'. “If ye vex me, and marry against my will, lad, ye may do the I est ye can with that wretched hole, Elackhall: go and starve in the musty old rooms among the mice and rat-, as I dare say' your father would j have liked to do: but ye’ll get naething i out o’ me. I ha 3 thousands —hundreds I o’ thousands- to spend and to leave; i but though you’re my ain, only son. j marry that woman, and I'll neither gie । ye, nor leave ye. ae bawbee.” She thought she had overwhelmed I him, c ushed him: but he stood ther'e. I without any visible change in him. ex'- | cept a certain loftiness of carriage and ‘ b. ightness of eye. “Don’t let u< Quarrel over money । matters, mother. As you say, .A I you like with your own. if T have ■ Blackball 1 shall be quite satisfied, and so will she.” “Then you mean to brave me, insult ! me, and marry her?” “Not to insult you. But 1 certainly mean to marry her —if I can.” "With or without my consent?” R< derick wailed a minute and then answered, in a very low tone, “Yes." ! “Lad, lad; have ye gone dean daft? Do ye really mean what ye say?” For a parently, until now, ever accustomed to entire and unquestioned authority, she had re used to believe him in earnest. “1 shall go back to Switzerland, marry my cousin if I can, and present her h re as so n as possible as my wife. If she will not marry, me I —l shall never come home at all.” “ ae fear o’that. She’ll tak’ye, lad: she'll jump at ye if she thinks you’ve got the siller.” “Mother” —Roderick spoke beneath his breath in a white heat of suppressed passion—“mother, how dare you say such things to me? If there is a creature in the world that ought to be sacred to a woman, it is that other woman whom her son loves.” “That other woman, as you call her, is nothing to me. You chose her without my knowledge, ai.d you say you will marry her with or without my consent. Doit. But from that day I will never set eyes upon either her or you." “Be it so.” Roderick sprang up in essible passion, and paced the

room once, twice, and then stopped opposite her. “Yon didn t really mean what you said? Mother—oh, mother.” The appeal was almost like a cry, but in vain. “I tiid mean it, and I do.” “Then, mother, it is no use our talking together any more. Rood by ” “Good-by. ’ J Roderick holdout his hand, but she did not take it. His voice was tender, sad—nay, almost heart-broken; but hers was cold as a stone. - * * * * Roderick stayed a day in London, at a hotel, the address of which he ha I carefully written out and loft t ।on Mrs. . ardine’s drossing tab e, waiting vaguely in the hope of some bes ed telegram that might change his miserable journey into a happy one. Tnen ho starie i; and when ho found himself drifting away from Dover pier under the cold clear winter stars, he felt as if he had cut the cable of his life :orever. Reaching the hotel after his long journey, the familiar faces and the bright Swiss welcome warms I his heart. HwasSunda m rning during that miserable week ho had alm st lost count of days ami all the good people of Neuchatel were gone t > church; doubtless also the Reynier family. Still, he co dd not rest.' Ho thought he would just go and see t ie out ide of the house, perhaps hear she was we 1, and then hover about for a glimpse of her, till he could speak t > .ho professor, her nominal protector, and ask permission, after the fashion of the j country, formally to oiler his hand. | For he was determined no respect, no ; decorum, should be wanting in any- I thing he did. down to the common, st outside convenances, t ward the woman ■ he adored. H:s hand almost sho >k as he rang j the bell of Professor Leynier s door — ■ for after all ho could n>t pass it and' his voice tailed, and his disused Fre i h seemed to liy av>ay from h m when ho faced the little. I onne. wiio at once I recognizing him, aid bveaung into the most courteous of smiles, showed him in quiet like "un amide la famille.” They were all well —they would return ,rom church immediately—monsieur must allow hims if to wait—her master would be charmed to see him Would monsieur repose himseh in the salon? No,one was tacre, she believed. And for the first moment he believed so, too, and sat down, looking tenderly round on the familiar room the i’ara-di-e where his Eve ha i appeared to him that first night -making ever afterward the whole world n w. The dear, silent, empty room: Empty? NY something stirred in a rcce s: some person, sitting there loading, rose with a low. listless air. came forwar ■, sudden y stopped. The slender figure, the black dre- , the fa r, clustering curls K<xh rek stur ed up. The who o thing was so sudden, so unexpec ed, that there wa< ' no time for any < isguises < n eit o - side, i esides, Loth were so voting; i and it is in later H n that 1 >vo learns concealment. As they stood, the c two \oung creatures, lace to face am quite alone, no human p wor could have concealed the /y of both. Roderi k advanced a step. “Mo voici! e sals revenu,” was all he -aid. speaking in French, as seemed most natural. “Oui, oui, oui’" and with a glad erv Silence clasped her hands, the first impulsive gesture : e had ever seen her use: “oui, il est re enu ” The minute afterward—he knew not how; in truth, neither ever did know —he felt her in his arniSk gathered close to his breast, shelte: ingai.d sheltered there as if it were her natural refuge. He did not kiss her ho dared not —but he t niche i her so t hair us it lay on hisshoul ler —he pressed h r, all shaking with sobs, to his b ea-t lie called her by name—first “macousii e." and then “Sileme ” An instant more, and putting her a little a art fr. in him, so that he could look down into her eyes, he breathed, rather t mn spoke, another word an English word —“My wife.” Silence shrunk back for one mo- ■ ment, trembling violently, dropped her face, a'l scarlet, and then lift si it up with a strange pathos of entreaty, al- : most appeal, as if sho had but him in the whole world. "Your mother.” he whispered: “your mother knew it all. ” 1 lodei ick drew her back again ch sc into hi very heart, and pres ed his lips upon hers. In that long, silent, solemn troth-plight the two became one—forever. Immediately on he family's return from church, Roderick asked for an interview with M. Revnier, and ex- ; plained everything, while Silence did the same to Mme. Reynier and the ! girls. There were due congratulations, । both formal and tearful, from the sim- j househo d. and । ami ii>« yoans p •epic were fiance’ and ’ treated as such, according to tho fa h-1 ion of the country, which hoi s the I bond almost as sacred as that between husband and wife. ; A week went by. and still he heard nothing, had told her nothing of his own people, except briefly answering her innocent questions, that his mother was quite well and his sister married. This might have gone on still longer, he shrunk so from the cruel task of giving pain to his inn cent carling, had it not been for a letter which came one morning the very morn ng v, hen ■ he took her to took at the new white . cross, and she had a ked him to “tel. her everything. ” He had told her a . good deal how the repa ; rs were progressing at Blackball —not restora- • tions, only needful repairs, which he i had left in charge of Mr. Black, the factor —desiring that nothing might i be altered which was not absolutely ■ necessary. But in reading the letter i : to Silence, he had omitted the P. S.. j which ran thus. b ' “I saw Mrs. Jardine this morning, b She was quite well; looked exceedingly ; well. She had let her house for the winter, and was just starting on a round -of visits in England. She bade me i tell you she had received your last r letter, and there w s ‘no answer.’ ” [ ; Then sho was inexorable, this woman r , who called herself a mother. As Roderick stood beside the grave of the i dead mother here and thought of his s j own, he could almost have forgotten

his manhood and bujst into an agony of childish tears. "What a e you thinking about 9 Is there anything in the letter that vexes you. or anything that you have not read to me? ’ She spoke in her pretty broken English; she always talked English witn him now: and she looked him straight in the face with her innocent eyes. "I syall not mind yi ur not telling me everything, if you say distinctly, ‘I have reasons. 1 would rather not. But still 1 think it would be better—better for us both, if you did i tell me.” J "You are right,” he answered, with ! an a most con . ulsive clasp of the hand which lay on his arm. which she returned. .It was one of the touching peculiarities of hers that, now she was betrot ,ed, she never seemed tho least shy or ashamed of loving him. of identiiying herselt with him, and of beiongiug to him and him alone, without an at an of coquet y. < r exactness, or doubt. That, de ight in teasing, in showing their power, which so many gi Is really goi erous and good girls-— have with their lovers, was in Silence Jardine altog ther ab ont. Sho simply loved him, nothing more. "Now tell m>. what s it?” she said. ‘ “It will not hurt me. Nothing can hurt me now, except ?o tar as it hurts you. Toil me.” J So he to d her, as briefly and tenderly as he could without compromising the truth. He attributed Mrs..l Jardines objections to his marriage chiefly to her vexation that his bride / wa ■ of nnother country and had no 1 dot Os tn-' family riches, or his own, I he said a. little a< pos.-ible; and, in truth Silenc di I not s< em to take in j th:.t i hase of the subject, or be as- I fectcd thereby. The one thing which ' struck her a d put it as carefully as tie w mid, it cou d not 'ail tostrike her like a heavy blow—was tho fact that he was marrying her without his mother s consent, and hopeless of ever winning it. “We ueV'-r do that here," sho said.

faintly. It is, I think, impossible, illegal." “It is not so in our free England,” 1 loderick nnswered pas-i nately. “No in u lice, even of parents, is allowed to blight our live-.’ As e. a man ie 21, or a w< man, either, both can walk out of their paienls' do. r and in at any ehu < h door, and l>e married in the face of ail the w rid, which is a right an i righteous thing ’’ “Hushl" she whispered; and ho saw that her face wa white and tho touch of her poor liitle han I deadly cold. “We wi 1 not talk any m »re of this tod y. To im rrow. We will part now. Do not v alk.” “Not wmk home with vou. Not sea you till t > morrow morning!” "Hoderick. sho whi pered, putting her c id little hands in his They stood together in the shelter of the cemetery wall the early I ecember dusk ha 1 already alien, and there was not a ereatu o near. "My Roderick, kiss mo kiss and forgive.” Ho kissed her the sacrament of the lip- which < nly fa ntly expres os the union, through life and after, < f soul to soul, an 1 b >th wore comforted and at in-ace. Nevertheless in walking hom - t gether, they scarcely sjw’ko a single w id. n> ns c ivTimsn ! ('off <• Drinking Theories. It < hard t » det rm no wl ether tht excessive coffee drinkit gos the \merjl ens i-« the ea so of t lie netvousness, er w other thelp nir> strung toinjasramenG induce tho craving for t .'-t ie ti ts have tried t< pro.c b th theories, but have nd agreed upon either. However, we as a nervous people, uni wo arc much ad dieted t<> tiie us- of t it le stimulants. ; Coflee first b camo .mown eontetl p srary with tho discovery of Amer .•« it - an e.ergrm n shrub native tn th Easqlei i bright re I berries whie i el -<■ a co 1 kn wn a theeotTeeben The story g est at the Supori r of far-awav monastery was m e told I a sheplie d of tho singular activi* d lav ti by h--h - p after brow-if up n a co iam shrub. The S irerfr made an imusi -n of the shrub ad pave it to his monks, ho i: g that: would . ssist in keeping them during the night devotions. It wor M 1 no a cha: in, and the fame of D | little brown c tie • berry soon sprai abroad It was not introduc d in» . I n: lai d until the midda- of the se-.f- , teenth c ntury. Sir Henry Bloat j went to Turkey in II . and f-u.nd tht ■ the Turks had a drink called “kaup J’ made, he said, "fr< m a berry whit they diie and crushed and made ho a black infusion, and which they drak J at a l h -urs of the day and night." I n 1 ■> it was brought to Englai. f and he first coffee-ho -e was e 1b- 1 li-hed in lamdon. ’ln the time of QAn Anne there were ;;jhio e 1 ee-homo«n ■ London. Pope, Byron, t < wper id ■ other celebrities were fre u mterj f < co l- e-hou-es, which thev immori- f ized in ver-e ( oilee was introdud ]

in France in b'.tb by a Turkish amfesador. Since then it camo to Amera. which is now tho greatest coffee-ti-suming country in tho world, ’e southerners use coffee most extenibly and always very strong. Abyssinian Superstition, i due A.Uy wajhii has a sin. ulaa>^r. n’uil * n inf would mean thee^'o v „ wur.-d that some Wk ? 11 n tte a t <>f appeasing !9r^ tito. In walking along a highv<*4 ln Abyssinia a traveler came acrossJat > appeal e I to be a large bundle of whing near the road. He investifed the matter, and thus describes thosult in the Century: On approaching it, a movementoi g on within was plainly disce^e. : Covered up in their shemas, or els, I were three n en eating their may mo 1. So much in fear of the W e \ are the people, that they car&ulets containing prayers, and r<of i parchment several yards long, arici tures illustrative of t e tnuiWof i the good spirit over that ocuhb--1 surdit; are kept in their hofafor i protection. If an Abyssinian sells you attytig, and L well inclined, he will- Con ■ you to heep it indoors or coverup, for if an evil eye should fall upour purchase it may sp il or uisaar, which latter contingency is JBitf he more probable in Abyssinia. > I had some experience of tend of i ■ evil eye that caused goods ajuitteis Cto disappear. It gleamed In in- : i stant in the head of an oj ian whom I caught walking off some i । dollars from a pile in our poster’s - 1 tent. The corner of the evil miled j when detected, but the e faded 3 away under the influence C payi master’s boot. i I

f&E SUNDAY SCHOOL. noughts worthy of calm reflection. A Pleasant, Interesting, and Instructive and Where It May B e Foundteamed and Concise Review of the i T an >e. I Lesson for Nov. as. and'S? fame unto his own, own received him not."--John of*i& 0 r ition to Christ ” ’ho subject 3: 22 3-, ’ SS ° n ’ which is fou »‘l in Mark StmdaJ?'? { or J -oviv al in church ami with th; > h °° ‘ Does not Jes us visit us for hir.? r ’’nd prepare our hearts tapper refreshing? He speaks to „s, doing' T? e ’. antl so he fits us for better v L landing at tho door to’mis full of hh-ssing for UH . Doeß Hot the song sing itself to us?— •Christ is knocking at my sad heart; I ' bhall I let him in? Tenderly pleading with my sad heart; . O shall I let him in? . L 0? n^(, dend is niy heart with sin. . and cheerless is all within. SChrist is bidding us come unto himO shall I let him in?" Wball not the Spirit answer for us?— re f * a s<r anKcr at the door: ■BK Let him in. i®- has been there oft before; pwr Let the Savior in.” I f Points in the lemon. I “The scribes which came down front Jerusalem.” There was this difference betwixt Christ and his adversaries, the scribes and Pharisees. They were coming down from Jerusalem. He was going up toward Jerusalem. He steadfastly .set his face along that holy way; they steadfastly set their obdurate faces in

tho other direction. “It a kingdom be divided.” Christ really gives (hree rejoinders here. In the first (vs. 21, 251 he pictures a house or kingdom, on their supposition, divided against itself. It is a contradiction, an anomaly. In the second (v. 2tD he grants, as it were, their notion, and urges that if Satan be allowed to go on thus, he puts an end to himself, \\ hy, then, their anxious opposition? In the third (v. 27) he hints at the real situation. A stranger has entered the strong man’s house ami Jh spoiling his goods. They are fighting against God. j Hint* mnl IllUKtritlonw. . This lesson brings Christ very close home to us. We have been studying of i < hrist on the sea. on the mountain, on tho 1 plain. this might bo termed, Jesus, in the heart. H<- comes to his own to-day, will liis own receive him? He comes to the heart s door and knocks. Have you room for him there? “In tho sil< nt midnight watches List, thy In.sum's door! How it knock-, h, knocketh, knocketh, Knocketh ev< more. Say not 'tia puls. > beating, Tis thy heart of sin: *Tis thy Savior knocks ami crieth, ■Rise, and let me in!’ ” Now let tho m< ssage L- very personal. Os ol<l he looked about on them which sat about him and said, “Behold my mother and my brethren! For whosoever shall do the will of God, the same is my brother and my sister and mother.” Can be say tho same of those who eit nbout him in his house to ilay? Can he look level into your eyes and say, “sister," or “brother?” The controversy is betwixt you and y ar Lrd today. How tho mothers and fathers used to sing it "A isior. wayfaring man of grief Ilas often passed me on mv wav, Who sued so humbly for rehef That 1 could I,- v. r answer nay. I had no power to ask his name, \\ hitlier he went or w hem-e he came; But there w as sotm-tking in his eye That won my love. I knew not why.” “Have vou got religion?” Ami tho ’ poor. f. rl th woman answered, "ves, spells v s it.” She 1.. kt«l it. Would it nut be better t • get Christ, ami to keen with him all tho time? Live louder than you shout. Let the life within authenticate the iife without. In a word, keep Christ in the heart, and the life itself will sing and shout his praises. “You s. e that man there in the body of the house? lie’s a great shouter, isn t he.' “ Yes. he's been making a good deal of noise in the meetings.” “Well, he won't say anything tonight when I speak. ' Sure on ugh; lie was silent. “How do y u account for it?" said the speaker. “He owes me five dollars." Get rgi.t. In the meeting the brother was insisting on certain exercises of soul, and it would almost seem postures of body, in order to secure peace of mind. How refreshing was the word spoken just then by the good sister who, rising, said. “1

have not been able to be with you in these special meetings, but I do believe I have been with my Lord! Duties at the counter have so kept me that this Indeed is , the only service I have been able to attend, yet Christ has stayed beside me all the day, and I have had sweet communion with him.” Do and know. Bishop Thoburn sat in his study. There had come to him a call of duty. Six was one of the six. Os late "e very thing sepmed to be echoing tmd re-echoing the i call. His presiding elder came in. Uis first word is, "Bishop James is looking for missionaries for India; hadn’t you better goSays young Thoburn, “It is just what I sent for you to talk with you about.” But they do not talk much; the coincidence of impression is enough.' doling 1 hoburn goes aside to pray and comes back with the seal of God’s approval to pledge himself for the work abroad. The joy of that commission has never departed, and thirty-five years of noble service have proven the divineness of the impressions. The word obeyed has let him, as it were, into the very heart of God as one of his intimates. Next lesson—“ Christ’s testimony to John.” Luke 7: 24-35. According to the Paris Figaro Mr.

Coates, the American “millionaire,” during the whole of his lifetime has never taken any medicine. He has constantly consulted doctors and chemists, and all the medicine they pre-! scribed for him he put away in ar om T ie result of this strange fancy is Ihal Mr. Coates has now 1,900 bottles of medicine, 1,370 boxes of powdersand 870 boxes of pills. The Zuyder Zee is to be drained at an expense of slou,( 00,> 00, 7: > ,7-_ acres i of ground valued at 8130/ 00.0.0 being reclaimed. j

FOND OF FINE FUNERALS. French People Make the Last Rites an Occasion for Great Display. The love of the French for display in burial ceremonies has been pointed I out as characteristic of the nation, i , -tne people have a pathetic way of ' saying “although it costs much to • iil e » I m v , Paris ’ U costs stni lnor e to •i.m * . 13 . * 9 ' iu a ^‘tsure, true, and th it it is so, says the Balti moi e th- t th ' 3 <iue t 0 the fa ct nnnfv °r kovernmet has a montlm^ t l ‘ e work ° r buying the dead, and has established a scale ol prices by which the style of funeral is regulated, irom that costing hundreds of dollars to the one which opens the fosse commune common v ra '?\ a rule the French are fond of line funerals. For state-men of the first rank the t overnment de crees a State funeral, which is an oc- , tasmn of great display and fre iuently leads to political demonstration -, but piHate funerals are also costly, and many a man who has lived with the utmost meauue s all his lite is laid to rest with princely pomp. The door or his residence is hung with black curtains, emb oidered with silver; his monogram, in silver, is on 11 the mourning coaches which follow tiie hearse; the drivers are dressed in black, with knee breeches, high boots, three cornered hats and long crepe streamers on their arms; the horses for the hearse are caparisoned with sweeping draperies of black and 1 silver, and on the hearse itself are I plumes and silver figures o angels and cherubs. Then, too, the custom iof sending out notices of the death and invitations to the funeral is very , common, a. d sometimes those notices aie as elal orate and aseleg.iniiy engraved as the must expensive invi-

' tat ions to a ball. in striking contrast with the de- : corous funerals of the rich are the I scenes when the body of a very poor i person is to be laid in the grave. The city is st ri tin regard to the tn. । The body can only be kept twenty. f four hours from the time of death, ■ and it must be buried in a ?odin । made of thin deal boards unpainted, unvarnished, and so slight that it is । always wrap: ed up and fastened with ropes lest it should come to pieces. It is taken to tiie grave in a I hearse which is hardly better than a ; dray. At the fosse commune the priest is allowed to inc tide six funerals in ore service. Fully to explain the necessity for the fosse commune, it is necessary to say a word about j French graveyards. They are governed entirely different from ours, and their object-seems to be to alto d graves to the millions who are dead, without taking too much space from th-* millions who live. In certain parts of the cemetery graves may be boughtoutright, though at enormous prices, and remain forever in the posses ion of a family. In other sections the grave- are bought singly for live years from the date ot burial, and at the end of the specified time the bom s are taken up and buried in the fosse commune. The fosse rommune—the lowest grave of all—is a ditch twelve feet dee^ twelve feet wide, and as the size of the graveyard permits. Here the co.l ns are put side by side in two rows, the heads meeting m the center. When a certain number are in the ditch it is closed and on another layer of earth more coillns are afterward laid. When the ditch is tilled to the surface another one alongside opened, and s b until the aval.able space is used up. Then the first ditch is reopened and fresh coil ns are put in place of the old ones, which have derated. Egyptian Geometry. The Ahmes papyrus doubtless represents the most advanced attainments of the Egyptians in arithmetic and geometry. It is remarkable that they should have reached so great proficiency in mathematics at so re mote a period of antiquity. But strange indeed, is the fact that, during the ne-.t :’,OUO years they should have made no progress whatsoever in it. All the knowledge of geometry which they possessed when Greek scholars visited them, six centuries B. C., was doubtless known to them 2,0u0 years earlier, when they built those stupendous and giganti struct-

ures the pyramids. An explanation for this stagnation of learning has been sought in the fa t that their early discoxeries in mathematics ana medicine had the misfortune of being entered upon their sacred books, and that, in after years, It was considered heretical to augment or modify anything therein. Thus the books themselves closed the gates to progress.— * <Te.i.L hematics—Ca ori. । For the woman who wants to an t out the hollows of her face and ne k and wants pink cheeks, a good idea is t» buy some of those pretty pap>r fishes or odd shaped little bags to be found in the Japanese shops. If a woman will spend five minutes a day pu lng atone of these she will find her face filling out, and the air which will be driven in and out of her lungs will increase the height of her chest and set the blood in circulation through the face, bringing a faint pinkish tinge to her cheeks. It will not be so pink as the kind that is bought in the drug-stores, but the woman will be surprised in sixmonths at the change in her looks.

The Soldierly Way. The lady was seeking to be disagreeable to the young army officer. “I suppose,” she remarked, with a faint sneer, **that sometime in your career you have beaten a retreat?” T have, madam.” he admitted without a blush. “Ah, indeed? Will you tell me how you did it?” “Certainly, madam. I did it by maxing an advance. That beats a retreat all to pieces.”

AROUND A BIG STATE. BRIEF COMPILATION OF INDIANA NEWS. (That Our Neighbors Are Doing—Matter® of General and Local Interest—Marriages and Deaths—Accidents and Crimes—Fersonal Pointers About Indianians. Minor State items. Work has been begun on Washington s new electric street railway system. W. S. Smith, aged 72, one of Elkhart s oldest pioneers, was found dead in a chair. Heart disease. 1 homas Huffman, near Huntington. was fatally injured in a runaway accident. He is a wealthy farmer. A heavy iron cross beam on a new bridge at Marion fell on Emanuel Duke, a workman, and crushed both legs. Charles Packwood, aged 25, was killed near I orden, by a Monon train. He was intoxicated and fell asleep on the track. 1 An e-nery wheel in the Iron I ale teel works, Anderson broke. < ne of t ? i P - e< ? S . Btra ck Ed Kline on the head inthi tmg fatal in uries. Thieves at Wakarusa sto’e two , branch store of H. Dembuf ky & Co. Jacob Klingler, a driver in the Briar Hill mine, Clay City, was caught between a baiiit ear and a crushed to death. He John H. J. merchant of Indianap Jis. died of in-" juries received some months ago. when he wassandbagged and robbed by footpads. L 'Wis Lorenzen, who had a leg crushed wh’le at work in Ihe Ameri-

can tin plate factory. Elwood, has brought a SIo,GOG damage suit against the company. Robert Y’anice, aged 18. while hunting near Darlington, fell down an embankment, causing his gun to be discharged. The load went through his i ight arm. Biluard tables form most of the equipment of South Bend's fashionable homes, and the game is growing in popularity. There are several fine lady biliiardists in that city. A YOUNG man in the southern part of the State out a package of powder and some matches in the same pocket and started on a hunting trip? The funeral was largely attended. I In wicked Fort Wayne. Miss Blanch Hart, after posing for several living pictures in the nude, has sworn out an affidavit against the photographer for displaying the picture in his gallery. | Terre Haute business men are unanimously in favor of adopting a new city charter. One of the strongest reasons urged for the change is the uprooting of the metropolitan police law. While Peter Somers, a brakeman on the Fort Wayne. Cincinnati: Louisville Railroad was coupling cars at Montpelier he was killed. His home was at Fort Wayne. He was married. John Sammone, a laborer, employed in the packing house at Hammond, has received notice that by the death of a relative in Australia he was one of four heirs to an estate valued at $3,000,000. GEORGE STULTZ, who killed Frank Bailey, a miner, at a settlement in Vigo County the night before the election. has been acquitted, on the ground that he did the shooting in selffense. Chicago and Greenwood capitalists are trying to secure the right of way in Johnson County to construct an electric railway from Franklin to Indianapolis, with an extension to Greenwood. James Smith, aged 25, was instantly killed while hauling sawlogs, three miles northwest of I aporte. The log rolled from the wagon, striking him in the aboo ; en and completely crushing his body. He leaves a young wife and infant child. Jesse, son of Steven Conn, residing north of Muncie, was killed in Grant County, near Marion, while loading a log on a wagon. It was being pulled upon the wagon when it rolled back on the voting man. killing him instantly. He was 20 years old. and had been married but a short time. Mrs. Thomas Williams, wife of a farmer 1 vlng near Monroe City, was burned to death. Mr. Williams was at work in the field, and when he went ho : e to.dinner he found that his wife ha 1 preDare 1 the noonday meal and had fallen into the fire and was.burned to death. Her body was a crisp. Lieutenant Defrees, of the Gov-

—---- . . k v — ernors staff, is preparing a report of the Indiana militia for the last year. The report is to be submitted to Ad ut-ant-General Ruggles, ot the United States Army, and will contain a comp.ete history of the militia's summer campaign in Sullivan and Daviess Counties and at Hammon. Governor Matthews is giving much thought to the threatened outbreak ot lawlessness at Roby. He said that he had again received" a letter from one ~* ? pyyndnnnK members assuring the stmu^u^d*!?^^ ■ of sportsmanlike quality. The racin^ he was assured, would be fair and square. Governor Matthews replied in a corching vein, rebuking the correspondent for presuming to try to make him believe such misrepresentation. He said that the racing would be < rued and brutal on the horses, and would be nothing more than an attraction during the winter of the gamblers, thieves, thugs, and prostitutes ot C hicago, disgracing the locality as well as all concerned in it. He pminiy told the Roby backer that he would su press the place if possible to do so within the law. and he thought it was possible. ° While three men were working in a

ueeji ditch on a farm near Lebanon, the sides caved in. Jesse Conn, the contractor. was killed, and Louis Porter, an employe, was perhaps fatally injured. Richard V\ heeler, a prominent farmer, shot and instantly killed Ambrose Wilcox, a large land owner residing near Mt. Carmel. Wheeler had put up \\ ilcox's stock and Wilcox came to vv heeler s house after the stock w hen hot words ensued, resulting as above. Wheeler claims that he acted in self-defense anq has surrendered to the Sheriff.