St. Joseph County Independent, Volume 20, Number 23, Walkerton, St. Joseph County, 22 December 1894 — Page 7

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T, 3 W AT RAN : ‘ ’ a}&(, \ N\\ 7!b b i WSS lisr e e «\ N& L e m’-_);:‘/’/ B N wf’e S '/7 &‘A‘ 2 I l : ‘.‘b S o ¢ 7 AL : L @ "IN |3G Waoa Jless CHAPTER X—Continued. He slept an hour, and then saw his - wife standing beside him with her ~ grave little face and a “memorandum” - In her hand, wherein their incomings - and outgoings were set down with ~_scrupulous neatness and as much ac°ﬂ “was attainable under the ¢~ “How clever you are!” Roderick cried, enthusiastieally, until he discovered the sad deficit, which must be met somehow. How? “Perhaps the people would wait; Richerden tradesmen often do.” “If they could, we could not,” Silence * answered, gravely. “They must be paid.” “How? Not by asking my mother; it is impossible,” added he, abruptly. “And otherwise what can I do? ‘I can not dig; to beg I am ashamed.’” Roderick spoke with great oitterness. His wife made no answer, but went into her bedrcom and brought out a large jeweler's case—necklet, bracelet, brooch. “It was very good of you, dear, to give me these. I know what they cost, for I have found the receipted Dbill; still, if we had, not jewels, but the money—"' Roderick drew himself up with exceeding pride. “Am I come to such a pass that I require to sell my wife’s ornaments? It is a little hard.” Then bursting out hotly, as she had never before seen him do-— “No, Silence, you are only a girl; you don’t understand the world, or you would never have suggested such a thing. Not that; anything but that.” “There is nothing but that, so far as I see,” she answered gently, but firmIy. “Itis true I am a gir!; but I am not quite ignorant of the world—at least of its troubles. Mamma and I were often ~very poor-—so poor that we did not always have enough to eat; but we held _one anythinz._She it <hnia, W WO cnn \u:n\‘»‘n;“h:‘:;-‘v \-\'\\\ — pitho £ lalways gbeyed her, )1 e ioat 60 b 0 st Do RSP - me to wear these jewels.” - He was so astonished that his sudden wrath melted away in a moment. The gentle creature whom he could ~ have ruled with a word! Yet by the " way she quietly put the ornaments back and laid the case aside, he knew she meant what she said, and that nothing would ever move her to act against her conscience. “Do you not care for-them, the gifts 1 gave you?’ said Roderick, tenderly. “Care for them? Do I not? But I care for you still more. I would rather never wear jewels to the day of my death than see my husband look as he bas looked this day.” “But to sell your ornaments! ev ~ if - T ecan do it, which I doubt? My gpoor child! what would Richerden people say?”’ “Would Richerden thiuk it more dis- ‘ greditable that you should sell my orna- | ments than that your tradespeople l should go without their meney? Then 1 think the sooner we leave Richerden the better.” “Have we quarreled?” “I don’t know,” said she, half smiling. Roderick paused a minute, and then held out his arms. “You are right; I will do it.” “Not you, dear; these things are so much easier to women than to men. Let me go to the jeweler and say—" “That you do not like them?” “No, for that would not be true. I like them very much—as I like all| pretty things. But I like other things better—honor, peace, and a quiet mind. i We will set ourselves right now, and ~=%fter that we will be careful——very{ careful. You must earn the money, | and, like Macbeth, ‘leave all the rest 3‘ to me; then this will never happen | again, I being so ‘clever’ as yoa say.” The laugh in her voice, but the tears in her eyes—who could withstand eithex? Not Roderick, certainly. Besides, he had tue sense to see, what not all men can see, that there are things which a woman can do better than a man, in which a woman is often wise and a man foolish. ‘lt is not a question of superiority or inferiority, but merely difference. “I perceive,” he said, “I must give you the reins and sink into my right place in the household chariot. Well, perhaps it is best; far better than turning into a domestic phaeton and setting the world on fire. Seriously, my darling, this shall not happen again, if you will help me.” So ended their first quarrel, which Silence persisted was not a guarrel, but only a slight variety in opinion. ‘And she did help him from that time forward; in many things that might otherwise have been very painful to a proud man, very wearisome to a busy man. But she had away of doing them all, even the most humiliating, which took the sting out of them entirely. And when the money was obtained, everybody paid, and the preparations completed for their next day’s journey to Blackhall, young Mrs. Jardine sat on her boxes, which she had packed with her own hands, lookii"gj

pale and tired certainly, but with the ' cheerfulest of countenances. ler husband, too, went whistling, “Oh, Nannie, wilt thou gang wi’ me?” in which song, sung under his instruction as to accent, she had created quite a furor at several dinner parties. “Evidently you do not wish to leave the flaunting town, and are anything but disgusted with the ‘lowly cot and russet gown’ to which I am dooming you,” said he laughing. “So, give me the song, even though our piano is gone, and our parlor looks anything but that ‘bower of roses by Bendemeer's stream,’ to which you are so often calling my attention. Sing, my bird!” She sat down and sung, clear as a bell and gay as a lark, the lovely old ditty. Her voice was her one perfect|ly beautiful pogsession, “except,” as Roderick sometimes said, “except her | soul,” of which it was the exponent. He listened to it with all his heart in his eyes. “120 you remember, Silence, that first night at the Reyniers’, when you sung ' My Queen? And again—no, you could not remember that—the first Sunday when I heard you singing behind me, unscen, in Neuchatel cathe- | dral? It sounded like the voice of an | angel—-my good angel. And now 1 ' have her in my home, my own home, l forever! And she is—only a woman, and has got no wings.” “Nor has mine either! Ie is—only a man; and I find out a new-—shall I call ’ it peculiarity ?—in him every day. An: J worse, he cannot sing at all; he can only whistle; but——"" ! And then, being a weak-minded | woman at best, and also exceedingly ; tired, she stopped laughing and began ] crying, clinging -passionately to her ] husband’s breast. % “Oh, take care of me and I will take | care of you as well as I ean., We are ! very young, very foolish; but we may | help one another. Only love me, and 5 then—-— No, whether you love me or i not, I shall always love you.” z “My darling!” g “But”—with the sun breaking bright- | Iy through the summer shower—*“since | you love me all will go well. We will ] fight the world together, and not be | afraid. No"—tossing back her lght | curls (they were terribly unfushiun-i able, and she had been urged to abolish 2 them, but Roderick objected, and they ! remained)—*‘no!”"—and a gleam: that ’ might have come from some Highland | ancestress of both, fearless till death, and faithful till death, shone in Si-i euce’s eyessl.am. afraid of nothing 50 "‘ﬁ"w"m"m CHAPTER XI. They were standing together, the | young husband and wife, “at their ain i door,” in the long northern \wilf;.:ht,i the midsummer twilight, beautiful as | I have never seen it anywhere but in i Scotland; cold, gloomy, rainy Scotland. ‘ But, as if Nature herself wished to be ! kind to the souls that loved her, and | unto whom the world was just a littie unkind, from the day they reached | Blagekhall there had set in an extraor- | dinarily long spell of fair weather. i Already Dboth were a good deal changed: the mysterious change which | marriage makes to all, but to none so much as those who marry early. Al ready they had learned to forget themselves each in the other, with the hope | of a long future in which to rub down opposing angles, striving to become “heirs together of the Kingdom of heaven’—that Kkingdom of heaven | which begins on earth. “How quiet everything is!” she said; | “how plainly we can hear the burn | singing down below-—hear and not sec —so that you cannot complain of the | mill which has spoiled it so, nor grum- | ble at the sins of your—our—misguided | great-great-grandfather!” This was an impecunious Jardine of | the last century, who had sold two | acres of land. half a mile below the | house, on which was built a cotton- | mill, now owned by Mr. Black, the | factor, their only near neighbor, and | the only person who had yet called up- | on young Mrs. Jardine. He was an old 1 bachelor—there was no Mrs. Black to | call—which fact, remembering Mrs. | Maclagan, was a great consolation tu% "Roderiek. who betrayed sometimes ,a; lTurking dislike both of the mill and its | \ nmaster. ‘ { “Yes, Blackhall is very quiet,” he an- | 1 swered, “especially after Richerden, | though you are ‘no longer dressed in—' | How does the line run?” ﬁ Silence sung out into the clear still | night—no fear of listeners!—the verse— * “No longer dressed in silken sheen, , No longer decked wi’ jewels rare, ! Dost.thou regret the courtly scene i Where thou wert fairest of the fair?”’ l{ “Those ‘jewels rare’ about which I § got so angry with you, my darling; and | yvet which purchased for us so much | peace of mind, to say nothing of Mr. { Maclagan's declaration ‘that he had | not met for years a lady he so much ' respected as young Mrs. Jardine! | Good, honest man! Ile never said so, but I think my poor opals will appear | on Mrs. Maclagan’s fat neck next win- | ter.” ; “Never mind; they will make her : !11:1;=]))'; and I—my happiness does not | ! lie in ornaments.” | “What does it lie in, then?” ! “Love.” l He knew the whispered answer, , I without need of her giving it. g Still, as he presed his wife closer to | him, he liked to hear it. | “Love is not everything, perhaps. 1 | mean—as our good friend Maclagan | suggested when we bade him gm‘ul-{ by— ] “Will the flame that you're so rich in i

- light a fire in the kitchen, Or the little God of Love turn the spit, | spit, spit? . \ We must be prudent. And we sha.&fi}{ now the wife is Chancellor of the Ex- | chequer. Still, we may have a good | deal to fight against, which even love | will not shield us from. But after all, | ‘Love is best!’ ” “Is it? Do you really think so? For | 'me it is; but you—" she stopped. “ ~ “We are just ourselves—our own two | selves,”— said Roderick, answering his | wife’s words, and perhaps the unspok- | en thoughts of both. “We shall have | to fight the world together, and alone; | but we will do it, never fear.. You shall help me, and I will help you—if I | can. By the way—if one dare name such a thing in the face of those glorious hills—did your new kitchen-range work well to-day ?” | She laughed merrily, a it “Yes, everything is beginning to | work well, after a good deal of trou- | ble.” ak X o “I know that, my darling. Anybod: lesshappy-minded than you would have ‘made a mountain of misery out of the | chaos I have brought you into. - Poor'f Cousin Silence! it could not have been | 0 in her lifetime; she was very dainty | ~and orderly, 1 believe; but she has | been dead more than a year ?v." . - “Dear Cousin Silence!"—with a sudden pathos in her voice which struck her husband. *“I think a good deal of ' Cousin Silence. It scems so strange that we should be here—and so happy —we two. Did you know, Roderick, that this was her favorite walk--this terrace—hers and Cousin Henry's?" “Cousin Henry—that must have been my father.” “Yes, my father always called him sO. He used to speak of him sometimes, not very often. I have never | told you--here her veice fell into thei tenderest whisper—“but I have some- | times thought, if they all knew it, they | would be very glad that we two were t married. DBecause, as I found out by§ some letters I had to look over ﬂﬂeri mamma died, Cousin Silence ought to | have married Cousin Henry, if my ] father had not come between them in | some cruel way, Ie was very .-mn'yi afterward-—-poor papa! but it was moi late, I suppose. And they are all dead i now, and we are here. Is it not ; strange?’ I “Veory strange. Door Cousin Bi- | lence!” Then with a sudden and inex- % plicable revulsion of feeling Roderick | added: “We will not talk of this any | more. You see, lam my mother's son. | She loved him dearly, and he was the | kindest of husbands to her—my poor | father!” ; “And so was papa to mamma. Bat, | oh, Roderick!"—and eclinging o him i with a sudden passionate impulse, she | burst into tears—*love iz best—love lxg best! Oh, my God, I thank Thee! Take i what Thou wilt from me, but leave me | ﬁlot ma never live to hear my huﬂ»{i 0 say that love was not best{!™ == Very soon “young Mrs. Jardine,” as | e was fond of caling ber, put on her i wise face again, and both it and her | words often had o curtous wisdom-—not | worldly wisdom, but that wisdem | which has been characterized as com- | ing “from God"—"first pure, and then ! i‘i‘:!(’l':{!‘:l‘.” r “There 18 a saving, Roderick you ! read it out of the Bible this very moming at prayers—"Whatseoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might' | Fhat means, as it seems to mie, at least, do not go beating about the i bush, and vexing yourself with trying | after a hundred things that you cannot do, but do somethine which yon can do. I have been thinking of you a rreat deal, my husband, and one thing has occurred to me. You are very clever; you know you gave me a whole heap o MBS, —1 and poetry—which you wrote a “When I was so foolish as to think I | should be an author some day. ; “Well, why not? All other professions cost oceans of money, and years of labor. Authorship costs nothing but pen, ink and paper.” : : “And a few brainsg, which you think | I have, my wife, but—qguery ?” * {(To be continued.) | : | The Plain Woman Gets There, 5 A discussion is going on inone of the Fngl sh papers beloved of young men, | as to whether uzsly women are less happy than their more fortunate sisters. One woull like to hear the views of the ngly women themselves, ' who, no dou' t, would be perfectly will- | ing to forego the virtues that a:e unanimo: sly ascribed to them for the ' rosy cheeks and golden hair of na- | “ture’s-favered.ones; but, accordinr to l the young male prigs who expre:s theic sentiments, the pla’n, g o { with their sunny tempers, efforts to please, and homely qua ities, are ac | tua ly pref rred to haughty, exacting, | capricicus beauties. This is rather an { unromantic view fer youth to take, { and one, perhaps, that som3s of us | would prefer in the mouth of sobar ! middle age, from which romance and | sus eptib lity to beauty have very { rightly fled. However, the truth seams | to Le that if a woman of only moder- | ate ¢ melitess does not get the “fun” { and fii taticn and the sort of not wvery | desirable bcmage that fall t 5 the lot of | the pretty creature, the is quite as { i ely to win and keep affection of a i deeper and more enduring kind. Cne | can imagine, too, that the plainest | woman is pleasing in the eyes of her | lover. and which of us has not met | women with a reputaticn for beauty | for which we could not account? This is especially n table in portraits of by- | gone belles, many of whom appear to | our modern eyes to have little claim Ity teauty s» faras contour and features | are concerned. | THE cash value of farms in the ! whole Uniteld States inlß¢o was $7,658 - [ 000,000, and, though the South had i only one-fourth of the white popula- { ti_n, the value of its farms was $2,300,- | 000,000, more than one-third of the ’i whole. | ActioN and self-renunciation lead | alike to happiness; for he who either | ats or denies himself reaps the har- | vests of both virtue: Right action, I undertaken heedless of consejuences, ; 1s indeed lenunciation.

| THE SUNDAY SCHOOL Joanale g S ÜBG’ ECTS CAREFULLY g,, :ﬁé 'ly Exposition of the Lesson—g loughts Worthy of Calm Reflecuion—- | Hhy % Hour's Study of the Scriptures—o Y ell Spent. P e { 1 Lesson for December 23, g lden text—*“Of tlie increase of his 89%ernment and peace there shall ba no A —Tsa. 0: 7. . the Prince of Peace,” the title of this _“88n, is an appropriate theme for Christ_“Estudy. Surely thoughts of fraternity cindness must become the day which - “Wor alizes a Savior's advent. “On B 8 peace,” was the angel note. It has -Ba long time finding its way into the PCB of humanity, and it has not yet B4R full ascendency; but verily it must Yeilirevail. Pence and good will are the ? & gttendants of the Christ, the angel |(. ggmetime will come to stay. The & ¥ 4 progress at the _C}}pﬂ, Sea is B Ciaristian civilization. | e o SRR R e AL SRS o | ApSfesson is found in Tsainh 0: 27, Te is be noted that the lesscn begins with the second, instead of the first verse, of the chapter. This is in strict accordance with the Hebrew order which closes the preceding chapter with this verse—rhetor- | ically, in our common reading, the better | arfangement. And yet the verse has been i rendered strangely opague in our King James version, and “dimness of vision and “vexation” of understanding are certainly in it. The translation itself needs “ﬂﬁht.” The more correct rendering of | the Revision brings it out of darkness, % and makes it fitly introductory to this | beautifully radiant chapter; thus, “But | [thém shall be no gloom to her that waw | [ in anguish. In the former time he brought i i into contempt the land of Zebulon and the 6 llﬁnd of Naphtali, but in the latter time | lhnﬂl he made it glorious by the way of | i the sea, bevond Jordan, Galilee of the | tﬁmtil('ﬁ." The two verbs, brought into | i contempt and made glorious are opposites | in the Hebrew, one meaning light weight | !m' despised, the other meaning heavy | | weight or glorified. The occasion of the | !mnfuximl in rendering may be here | ;!mﬂfﬁ!. The Douay translation is still | nearer to the original: *“At the first time | !ﬂm Jand of Zebulon and the land of | ixaphtuli was lightly touched; and at the last the way of the sea beyond the Jordan I of the Galilee of the Gentiles was heavily londed.” *We have gone thus at length § into this veriation both hecause of the in- | terest of passage in itself and beeause of | its larger Bearing upon the thought of the lesson, which it properly introduces, I We are brought straightaway to the ' heart of the losson: “A great light,” On . the one side, thick darkness; on the othoes ' gide, bright light: and the very blacknesa %Df the enshrouding darkoess throws the ' Hight into great brilliancy. “How far that § little eandie thirows its beams; so shines a { gobd deed in 8 paughty world” So ' glgamed Isaiah's toreh in the midst of the | i - then wickoduess brought in by Ahaz, | M shiaed the lamp of promise right out Ofthe nildst of a Black night. The clghth | Lo Lerds modnight darkness. With the AR chipter comes the streaking of the ‘l}"&'ll‘ Then follows a deseription of the %nm\“ day visible 1o the prophet’s inspired teye. The revision is probably right in { adopting the reading of the Hebrew margin, (N. B. Fhe two words in the He- { benw have a shilar form and precisely ‘?thl‘ same sound ~ signifying not or to i him=hence a mistake of the copyist Imicht casily be made.y Res s ““Thon ' hast multiplied the nation, thou hast in ereased their (to hingd jov." This brings the whole passage into consistency and Lanity. The reference of v five ix probably to the day of u ersal peace, which twe are led to bolieve is coming. The re P vimion rightly renders it that battie armaments sre “‘for burning, for {fuel of fire” The Douay luminously 3, “shall be brat and be fuel for the tire.,” In other waords, as Cowles interprets, “war itself ghall die.”” Lot it die! The lesson closes with « of the most charpeteristic passages of all the second Record, the sixth and seventh verses. The words mivht well be kept in me just as they stand, and they need little exfplanation. The progress of Christianity P itself, the coming of the k m is their best explication, 1t worth observing, howerver, in pas 1 t the marvelous habe of verse three in the chapter preced- { ine, the son of strange name and strange i sad portents is met and matched by this tmore ‘‘wonderful,” although glorious g shild. That “son” meant darkness, deat'y; ’;this “Son’” means light and life foreveri niore. i This lesson comes out, with cheering _%sndx‘.vmu-ss. as does the sun from behind ‘a cloud. The previous chapter has been ! speaking of God's judgments and of the | terribleness of man’s deserts. A gloomy { subject indeed. Then suddenly breaks in ;‘this chapter of hope and joy. Darkness i is at once turned to light, gloom to glad- | i ness. So teach. Let the light stream in. | i\§lwn we think of our sins and our de- | gsirvin_‘_’. it is as when (S: 22) “They.shall | Wwd Lehold- trouble | rotd darkness, dimness of anguish; and i;ine;f shall be driven to darkness.” Then in turn away and look to God, his goodin’ess and mercy, and 10, “the people that i walked in darkness have scen a great tlight. They that dwell in the land of the lshudm\' of death, upon them hath the } light shined.” “Where sin abounds, grace I did much more abound: | “Out of my bondage, sorrow and night, } Jesus, I come, Jesus, I come, i Into thy freedom, gladness and light, Jesus, I come to thee.” ‘ Glorify the light by walking in it. ‘“The %De()plv that walk in darkness have seen { @great light.,” Now let them walk in the { ight. Their walk and conversation, as iit were, reflects the light. Jules Breten ighﬁs a pieture intitled, *“T'he Song of the | Bark.” It is just the bright, upturned _L%;ce of a peasant girl.” Have you heard i the angel song? Have you seen the light? { Show it in your face, your life. l Next Lesson—Review. ' SSO PENETRATING is water at hich ! pressure that only special quaities of . cast iron will be tight against it. In } the early days of the hydraulic jack it | was no uncommon thing to see water . ’ issuing like a fine needle through the i metal, and the water needle would l penetrate the unwary finger just as readily as a steel one. L k | A BOY’S marble placed in a kattle prevents the encrusting of the vessel | because the marble attracts the particles of lime and so prevents the adhering to the sides of the ves.el

. o = vyl ! 3 : & - Th M ————_—'_——"-_—————-l——‘ih—R D — NEWS CF THE WEEK CONCISELY . CONDENSED. T ———— Wnat Our Nelghbors are Doing—Matters of General and Loceal Interest—Marriages and Deaths—Accidents and Crimes—FPers } sonal Pointers About Indianians. ‘ ' . ‘ A Hon, James M., Barrett. ~ Senator James M. Barrett of Fort Wayne, ! is one of the young, hustling Democrats of Northern Indiana, and is a leader among | the politicians of his party. He is a mem- f ber of the firm of Morris, Bell, Barrett & | Morris and his ability in that line is fully ! attested by the success which his firm has | attained in the many legal battles in which I they have participated. He made his first political speech at a poll raising in the Sixth Ward in 1876, in honor of Mr. Charles 4. Munson, then a candidate for Sheriff, and took an active part on the stump in every campaign since. In 1886 he was elected Senator from Allen g:tﬁty b};am(gity ?f 1,937, tg?; tt;eing\ the largest m the Democvatic County tickets At the ‘same election the Ilon. J. B. White, Republican candidate for Congress, and the Hon. A. A. Chapin, Republican candidate for Judge of the Superior Court, were elected over their Demoecratic opponents. In the session of the State Senate of 1887, was Chairman of the Committee on Prisons, and a member of the Committee on the ke s LRI T s R s RN, | LRI ‘ A0 | 'y % RN | >N~ v'\."} ; 5 /I'\ f%’&t‘,‘ € N g = Y i-* (AN ? NS | ] \\,.x i NN t 3 \:»/ e “/‘ -7"/ } Ne e ! NON. JAMES M. BARRETT. % | Judiciary and Cities and Towns. As Chair- ' man of the Committee on Prigsons in 1887 he | maae an investigation of the Southern | Prison loeated at Jeffersonville, and madea ! report to the Senate of the condition, mis- | management, and eorrupt practices then ex- | isting in the State prison which compelled | the resignation of the warden and directors ; {all Democrats) and resulted in the selee- l tion of an entirely new management. i Also prepared and introduced abill forthe | complete reorganization of the prison sys- | tom of the State by taking the appointment | of directors away from the Legislature, and | putting it in the hands of the (;n'.'(-mnr‘; . with power of removal. The bill, like all | - other bills of that session, failed to become | alaw by reason of the well-remembered | Sdend loek” of that wession. A similarbill, | however, was passad by the Democratio | Laogisiatiure & 1898, and i 3 now a law. In 1588 was made Chairman of the Com- | mittee on the Judiciary-the most import- | ant and hardest worked committee of the Senate, and to which are referred all im- | portant measures. To this committee was | referred the several bills of that session | leoking to the securing of a new election law for Indiana, As Chairman he prepared anid reportedl a substitute bill, whieh wa passed, and is now known | as the Australian ballot law. Took an active part on the floor of the Senate in ! securing the passage of the School Book | Law, and introduced and passed through the Senate a stringent bill acainst all trusts anid combines, but which failed to pass the I.ower House. e was author of the street | imunrovement law, generally known as the | “Harrett law,” under which all street im- | provements in the cities and towns of Indiana have been made for the past six | vears, and whieh gave an impetus to street improvements in - every part of the State, | so that the principal streets of the cities may | Ye said to be “lifted out of the mud.” 1 After the elose of the seszion of 1889, the | indianapalis Sentinel paid him the follow“Amonot Demoeratic leaders of the Pifsy-sixth General Assembly none have taken higher rank or wielded greater influence than Senator Barrett of Allen County. He is a young man of extraordinary ability and untiring industry, and possesses all the qualities for Dold and successful leadership. His knowledge of the various departments of the State government and of the necessities and wants of the people is broad and comprehensive. e is a dilligent student, an indefaticable worker, a ready debater, and an excellent parliamentarian. Ile iz well versed in the science of government, and his ideas of public duty are of the hichest. e was one of the most conspicuous figures in the session just ended, and to him, as much as to | and other member of either chamber, | is due the successful issue of the fight for { eleetion reform, and the rout of the schooi- | book trust. Few men betler equipped for | lecislative duties have ever sat in an Ini diana General Assembly.” | Senator Barrett is Chairman of the Allen ‘ County Democratic Central Committee at i the present time. . | Ilis legal ability was rww:m;z»uA‘.-j\' 1!1.1‘- | Commissioners of Allen County in their | selewiion of him as County Attorney. % Minor State Itemis, 1 Josgrn LEewr, a miner residing east of | Brazil, was instantly killed by a westi bound passenger on the Vandalia. I WHrLe working on the ice houses near | Deeatur Charles Tucker was struck on the | head by a piece of falling timber and al- { most instantly killed. | Huxrters in Rush County report that they have seen a wild woman in the woods | about five miles from Rushville. ler body | was covered with dirt. i KokoyMo has secured another c.'x';‘ming { factoryv, making three institutions of that | kind for the place®aggregating 1,600 employes in the five months’ packing season. .Il.\(m; FRANCE, living six milvus .\"(mth of { Wabash, was taken in by 11_«:!111‘1111}_‘:—1\»(1 ! swindlers. IHe made a contract with them { to rod his house for $25, and was 10'11’(“('1\'(3 | 4 twenty-dollar discount byway of aaver- | tisine the business. After the ..\'\,\'mdlors | Jest he found he had contracted for seven | points at $25 per point. s, s | © Tugr boiler of the Vineennes Novelty i Works exploded, being blown through the wall f the engine rcom. Brick and (;t}wr | debris was hurled many squares. A flying brick went as far as the Catholie school : l vard and struck a boy named Lane on the head, inflicting a wound that may prove l fatal. The loss will be $3,000,

-———____________m C‘UR!RENT COMMENT. Echoes of Foot-Ball. Now that the foothall season is over the barbers ought to have a rich harvest.— Kansas City Times. It is greatly to be feared that Congress will prove a poor substitute for football as a topic of conversation.—Omaha Bee. It may not be necessary to suppress football as a game but certainiy the brutal features which now characterize it should be suppressed.—New York World. ~ The opinions of football experts show shat football can easily be made a game ~of skill instead of a competition in brutality. The rules must be so changed as o bring this about or football as a college 3port is doomed.—New York4@Vorld. ~ Walter Camp, who is called the father ~of American football, has no hair what~ever on the top of his head. Considering i ke football style of hair it is difficult to see how Mr. Camp worked his way up in ibe business.—St. Louis Post-Dispatch. The future existence of American intercollegiate football is at stake. Unless l umpires devoid of cowardice and able to see cach play as it is made can be found football is about to degenerate into mere pagilism and plug-uglyism, a brutal dispiny of rough-and-tumble fighting such as : mzy sometimes be seen in the Bowery ) dives of New York, and respectable colleges and universities will be forced by public opinion to prohibit the sport.—-ﬁos—-on Advertiser. el i Armenian Massacres, : These Armenian horrors, if true, show that the unspeakable Turk is still unE speakable.—Baltimore American. ~ Such a story coming from the heart of | Africa would hardly be credible, but the incidents occurred on the immediate fronitier, at least, of civilization.—lndianap- - olis News. ' Every statesman interested in maini taining the peace of urope has probably i felt that the match had been touched at last to the powder magazine. The mas~sacres reported near Bitlis, in eastern Turkey, force the Armenian question to | the front.—Philadelphia Press. t The details of wholesale slaughter and - viclence, which it is claimed have resulted fu the total destructicn of twenty or thirty villages, are sickening beyond the power -of expression and indicate a reign of vio- ; lert bigotry that should not be tolerated i anywhere within the realms of civilization.—Philadelphia Times. r Maybe Nicholas will be more pliable than Alexander and will consent to a wmited protest to which England shall be - & party. Sbould this be done the Sultan . would probably bestir himself to Wve - shese Armenians the peace which is their | xight, for fear of more severe pressure - ®row these powers.—Springfield Republi- % dan. 5 e § New York's Bank Robbery. x The defaulting bookkeeper of the Shoe | and Leather Bank didn’t drink, smoke or ! chew. lle was simply a thief without | trimmings.—Washington Post. ; The question which the defaleation at i the Shoe and Leather Bank has suggested to everybody is, Why the inspection of the § boeks which revealed the fraund was not . maasle sooner.~New York Post. j If the Shoe and Leather Bank of New i Yoerk City had taken some lessons from | the Syracuse banks, it would not now be m-',{;‘nin: the loss of more than a third of | a miilion dollars.—Syracuse Post. i If you own a national bank, you had | better take it home and tie it up it your back yard over night, or the seventeenth assistant bookkeeper or fourteenth vice messenger may get it away from you.— { New York World. The latest bank defalacation is of suf- ' ficient proportions to direct the attention i of bank officials to their bookkeepers, as well as to their cashiers and tellers. | * * = The lesson here taught is a useful one, but it is rather expensive.—Bos- { ton Zlerald. 5 Ii Hung Chang’s Wealth, | Tt appears, at least by report, that Li { Hung Chang is a man of some versatility. { He's crazy, a traitor and 500 times a | millionaire.—Boston Journal. i Li Hung Chang is reputed worth $500,- ; 000,000, Any reasonable Chinese tailor should have no fears in taking his order for another chrysanthemum figured robe. | —Washington Times. | "Phe Tacoma man who says Li Hung | Chang has stolen £300,000,000, and adds | that lie is a traitor and is crazy, seems to be under the impression that Li is run- | ming for alderman.—Boston Herald. Y It is said that Li Hung Chang is worth | 8500,000,000. One has an opportunity of acquiring wealth as viceroy of China | which is possessed by no other individual | outside the New York police force.—Dßos- ! ton Globe. ! Apd now they tell us that Ii Hung f Chang is worth $500,000,006. We can, [ therefore, readily believe the accompanying statement that he is the chief of a sort | of eelestinl Tammany hall, but the furt!xer | allegation that he is of unsound mind & hardly consists with reason or common ‘* serse.—boston Lranscript. | e : } The New Czar’s Manifesto. { If the young man fulfills these early 2| promises nihilism and bomb-making will ' | become lost arts in the nation and “Dark- | est Russia” will be known as “Brightest ‘| Russia.”—Xansas City Star. | The offivial declarations and personal ! utterances of the new Czar have all indi- | eated a purpose to substitute toleration | for oppression, wise clemency for fero- ; | cious cruelty.—Cleveland Plain Dealer. ' It means that the rancor and bitterness . ‘ of vears long past are to be at least p:}l‘- | tially atoned for and an opening made for .| an era of good will and kindness between | Czar Nicholas and the Russians.——Ohio . | State Journal. wi He is in the unfortunate position of a 7 man with unlimited power for mischief | and very limited power for good. But his - | manifesto is an encouraging indication t | that he -means to make the best use he . | ean of these limited powers.—New York : i Times. Gl S L ] Monetary Reform. X History repeats itself. Are we to have > ! overagainthe old arguments about United 7 ; States banks?—Cincinnati linquirer. ? j The issuance of more bonds proves t}m | utter inability of the present financial . | system when put to severe tests.—Nash- - | ville American. 1-} The first and most important step to- » | ward the reform of our currency is to 1 i take all banking business away from the e | Government; the rest is mor.vly a matter e'iof arranging details.—-Providence Journal.