St. Joseph County Independent, Volume 20, Number 40, Walkerton, St. Joseph County, 27 April 1895 — Page 2
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isl «fL ,lWi? P^ 5 * CHAPTER IX.—(Continued). “You will be pleased to see so many beautiful Howers." said Lord Bayneham, feeling that he must break the silence, which had grown painful. Hilda looked up at him; their eyes met. and he saw tears shining in hers. Then he saw, too. that her beautiful face had lost some of its bloom, and that She looked sad and sorrowful. “You have never been to see us. Lord Bayneham,” she said, in answer to his look, for he said no more. “I half cxpwtcil you. for .von seemed like an old friend.” I 'Phere was :i tone of reproach in her / words. lie could not withstand the love- I ly, innocent face and quivering lips.
She net er forgot the startled look he bent upon her. "Hush. Miss lliEt.bij^v he said, "you torture tne. You ajpft me why I do not visit you. I will;rt»tl you. I never seek you because I anSj^iedged to marry Barbara Earle." • ; ** f He saw the lovely face grow pale ami death like, the dark, violet eyes become shaded ami dim. the sweet lips quiver and then grow strangely still. He saw all this and would have given his whole life for power to have uttered one word, but honor hade him bo silent. “Hilda," Ite said, gently, “in years to come you will perhaps realize what it ha s cost me to tell you this. I never thought much of my future or my fate until I met i you in the woods of Brynmar. It was all ' settled then." She tried to say she wished him all hap piness, but her trembling lips could utter ■ no words. Ho saw Lady Hutton and, Barbara Earle coming toward them. Lady Hutton was utterly unobservant, but Barbara Earle’s dark eyes saw the strange pallor upon the beautiful young face saw that some keen, sharp pain had taken all brightness and happiness away. She saw, and her noble, womanly heart pitied the fair girl and wondered what lier sorrow could be. “Hilda." said Lady Hutton, “are you tired? If not. Lady Bayneham has asked us to dint' with them. She is going to the | opera, ami we can form one party. What ■ do you say. my dear?" Hilda said something, but the words were so faint and indistinct that Lady Hutton diti not hoar them, .lust then she caught sight of the girl’s white face. and uttered a cry of surprise. "What is the matter, Hilda?" she ask ed hurriedh . "you look quite ill." Barbara Earle, whose keen instinct told her there was something wrong, interposed. "You have been stooping over the flowers, Miss Hutton." she said: “the perfume and warmth together have been too much for you.” Lord Bayneham looked gratefully nt his cousin. “I will see aliout the carriage at once, if you like." he said to Lady Hutton. "1 am sure my mother will be quite ready to return.” Barbara Earle walked by Hilda’s side, and talked gayly to her until the faint color came again into the fair face, and : the startled, frightened look vanished from the sweet, tender eyes. CHAPTER X. Lady Bayneham’s dinner party was a very pleasant one. Bertie Carlyon was there, and r." < could bo dull or listless in his presence. He had the happy faculty of brightening and amusing every one. He talked gay nnd agreeable nonsense. The Countess of Bayneham was in one of her most gracious moods. Barbara Earle had her own reasons for trying to make the party a pleasant one, and Lady Hutton never failed in being both agreeable and entertaining. Xo one noticed Hilda’s silence nnd Claude’s depression, except Barbara; nothing ever escaped her. “Mr. Seaton wants Hilda to sit for her portrait,” said Lady Hutton to her hostess. “I am quite willing, but 1 cannot decide as to her costume." “The more simple the better." said Lady Bayneham, in a low voice. “Miss Hutton needs nothing in the way of ornament.” "But," persisted Lady Hutton. "I should like her to represent one of my favorite characters. I prefer fancy pictures to simple portraits, lam only' puzzled upon which to decide.” “Take my advice,” ^aid the countess. । “and let Miss Hut’.m appear ns her own
simple charming self. She will make a picture then; do not spoil it by disguising her as some one else. Wc are going to Mr. Seaton's to-morrow to see Lady j Diana Foreclerc's portrait; will you join us?” Lord Bayneham, who had overheard ; this conversation, loved the countess better at that moment than lie had ever done before, lie could see that sho admired Hilda, and she had given him another opportunity of meeting her. “Yet I must go away." he said to him j self. “If I linger here I am lost. I may talk to her this evening, and to-morrow I will look upon her face for the last time for many years." $ :;t $ * ❖ * * The next morning, when breakfast was over, Lady Bayneham said she had some shopping to do, so the carriage was ordered, and Barbara invited to join her; but Miss Earle said she had another engagement, and the countess drove away alone. Barbara waited in the drawing room until her cousin came in. He looked careworn and tired, as though no sleep had visited him. “I shall soon take that look from his face,” thought Barbara, “though 1 trample upon my own heart in doing so. “Claude,” she said, gently, “if you have nothing better to do will you spend half an hour in the library with me?" Poor Barbara! she saw a shadow cross his face. but he spoke kindly.
They went into the library. There was silence for some minutes; then Miss Earle, turning to Lord Bayneham, said: "1 want to talk to you, Claude, that is , why 1 asked you to come here.” He waited wonderingly, for he saw her , face was full of deep emotion. "Answer me truly," she said, “what do • you love best in the world? speak truly." "1 always do.” said Lord Bayneham, proudly; “but you startle me, Barbara.” “If you were to ask me whom I love best in the world.” continued Miss Earle, "I should say my betrothed husband, Claude Bayneham. It is because I love you so well that I have asked you to I come here.” Lord Bayneham did not know what re- । ply to make. He was prepared to marry his cousin, to be true and kind, but ho i had nothing to say about love. The vision । of a sweet young face, framed in bright ■ golden hair, camo between him and the I noble woman by his side. "Claude," continued Barbara, laying i her hand gently upon his arm, “i will tell i ' " koni you best in the world. It | is that lair young Kiri you met in Brvnmar woods. Hilda Hutton. You love h>r ns yon never have never can love an- I ot her.”
I "I should never have said so," replied Lord Bayneham sorrowfully. "1 know it,' said Barbara; “you would have married me and tried to forget her. I prefer making the sacrifice myself, * Inudo. It would be useless,” she continued. “for me to affect that 1 do not love you. As long as I can remember, I yon have been all the world to me. The i strength ami depth of my love will be best proved by what I am going to do. ^our welfare and happiness are dearer to me than my own; therefore, I release you from your promise from nil the ties that bind you to me; I give you your free dom. You are nt full liberty to love and } marry whom you will; and I do this bc- , cause I love you ami wish to see you ■ happy." , "But. Barbara," remonstrated Lord , Bayneham. "1 would have never asked | for this I cannot consent." Even ns he spoke Barbara saw n half , flutter of joy in his face, ami her own grow paler. "I ktmw that," sho said, “but do you think, < inudo, I could marry you. know itig full we!) that you love another? It would be impossible," she continued, for ho mnde no reply; "if you were to kneel and ask mo to be your wife I would not. I do not blame you for lev mg her: she is a , thousand times more fair than I; but. I loving her. could you be so unjust ns to ' offer to marry mo?" "1 wish I w ere d< nd!" erod Led Bay tie ham: "1 wish I bail died rather than have brought unhappiness to you. Barbara. 1 do love you, but in n different way.” "1 shall be very unhappy for n little time." said 'les Earle sorrowfully "but then I am a brave womnn, and brave I women have to live down sorrow. Ail > my happiness will come from seeing yours." on are n noble womnn. Barbara.” said Lord Bayneham. "You are as nobic as you nro true.” Ho held both her hands in his. nnd. for the last time, his lips touched her brow, and Barbara grow deadly pale ns be did “Go now," sho said gently, “nnd h ave mo to speak to Lady Bayneham." Claude turned nwav; ho could not have j spoken another word. She watched him with eyes that crew dim with tears. How ! quietly ho had taken h>s dismissal' He I had nothing to say. With joy and sorrow strangeh mingled ■ in his heart. Lord Bayneham did not then I know the value of what he on that morn ' ing lost. CH AFTER XL Heep in Lord Bay neham's be r t , re ■ lingered a half feclinc of regret r Bar I bara. Xot that he loved hoi ho had i never eared more for her than ho did at ' this present time. H» r true nobility of i character struck him, ns it had not done ' before. He could not qu to forget her I words—so true, so free f.m all affectalion, so full of love for hi n. White they ■ lingered that dav in bis ea s he did not i seek Hilda. Barbara Earle was not one who did • anything imperfectly. The rest of that day the one on whie’.: she had given her , lover his freedom was spent in her own ; room. What it cost no one ever knew. Barbara shut herself up with her sorrow, i i and spoke not a word of it. The morning i after, when she came down to breakfast, . there was new beauty in her face, the I beauty of calm, serene resolve: the storm had passed over, and all outward trace of it had disappeared. “We are going to Mr. Seaton’s to-day. aunt." she said to Lady Baymdiam. “Yon I said two o’eb>. k. T think. Are we to call । । for 1 .ally I Litton ?"
“No." replied the countess, "we are to meet her at the studio. 1 hope Miss Hut- j ton's portrait will be a success: she has [ an exquisite face; and. Barbara, remind . mo that wo have to call at Store A: Morti- । mer's to seo about the resetting of the ■ diamonds. The Bayneham diamonds are I considered among the finest in England; ! you must wear them on your wedding | day.” Barbara smiled, and had Lady Bayneham watched her attentively she would j ! have seen the firm lips quiver as they smiled. Claude rose hastily; his face flushed deeply. The countess, serenely unconscious, continued her remarks. “I should like to have your portrait. Barbara. Mr. Seaton is one of the first of living artists; we will speak to him about it to-day. We shall be side by side then iti the great gallery.” Barbara made no reply. She was thinking of the fair young face that would be next to that of the stately lady before i her, while she, Barbara Earle, would - never be portrayed as one of that race. I Claude walked uneasily up and down the room, longing to make an end of the pain--5 ful scene, but not knowing how. At last, - to his intense delight, Lady Bayneham rose and quitted the room, still serenely 3 unconscious of all wrong. f “This is intolerable,” he cried; “Barbara, I cannot forgive myself for allows ing you to go through such a scene. My mother must be told at once,”
Barbara raised her clear, dark ey P B to his face, and though the warm tears shone brightly in them, she smiled nnd said bravely: “It cannot be helped; do not be vexed, Claude. I was wondering if diamonds looked well with golden half. And that reminds me that time is precious. Tako a cousin’s advice, nnd see Miss Hutton to-dny. We may still call at Storr & Mortimer’s, you know." “But, Barbara,” said Claude gently, “I think more of you than you do of yourself. I cannot bear to think of love or happiness while you are ”He stopped abruptly, not knowing quite what to say. “While I am unhappy, you mean. I sup- ■ pose," said Barbara, half haughtily, yet . with a smile of amusement. “How candid you nre, Clnmie. Never fear lot- me. j The past is nil dead; its ghost will never ' haunt mo. With nil my heart I intend to help you; and when you marry Miss Hutton I shall stand by her side, for two reasons. One is, that the sight of your happiness will more than repay me for any pain I may suffer; and t^c second is, that no one shall say Barbara Earle tied like a love-sick girl. No one shall ever know the | truth of this affair but you and I, Claude." “The truth is.” said her cousin, withia i smile, “that you have dismissed mo. Yoir ! reasons for so doing concern no one bwt : yourself." "I will speak to my aunt," said Ba'”‘ bara; "she will take it better from jr*than from you. And now, Claude, go । can see impatience in every line of ym ‘ face. 1 venture to predict, if you call it ! will find Miss I Litton at home.” fa ii' i" nnt'o Bqrb?xe was wrong. Lord Baynehnm reached i .ftdy h ■"''Y'mK bo fouixl both ladies absent, and A obliged to wait until two oVlork, ho intended to be nt Mr. Seaton’s. v was Barbara more fortunate. She matw several efforts to obtain an interview wit* Jhe countess, but on thnt particular morM i ing her ladyship was unusually engngea and when they left homo Lndy Baynehafl was still in happy ignorance. Barbai^ know her aunt too well to attempt nnM I communication of that kind in an op«M I carriage. Sho knew what the storm c® 1 anger would be. 1 « * * * * * * * *3l "I should bo better satisfied." said Mm | Seaton, ns the group of ladies stood rounH I bis easel, “if Miss Hutton had the sam^ I bloom upon her face thnt sho had when X’ | first saw her She looks pnlo somothina I like n drooping flower Late hours anc much dancing do not improve our fair aa^M fashionable ladles." Lady Hulton looked anxiously nt hoy g ward; then for the first time she notM how changed was the fair young | There eould be n<> mistake nl«out it. Hilda I might laugh nnd sing, but thnt look ctmlal | only come from sorrow sorrow, too, thn? H bad taken deep root. What could it bo^B Sure!} the child could not have fallen I®B love sho. so innocent, so fresh nnd purer? A so untouched by the world, so utterly n«r conseious of nil passion. Yet nothing bo love could have stolen the bloom froy, thnt lovely fa< c. nnd yet have left grentC beautj in its place. When Mr. SeatoW । spoke a deep flush covered Hilda's faee£ < nnd her eyes fell. B While the ladies examined a wondrou4 t ly executed sketch of a contemplated pifl i I turo. <'lnudo drew near to Hilda. ! he spoke to her he noted the flush tbMi I rose to her fair young fin e 1 I “Hilda," ho said, gently, “mny I cBII I nnd seo you now?" Then ho lowered voice, nml in n passionate whisper add^KL "mii mv liiit-lmn. t ' ' nm • c marry Barbara Earle." XYith a heart beating high with trbf| umph ho noted the sudden nnd hentitifu^K flush thnt lighted the young tender face.^F the light that shone in the clear, purew eyes, the trembling lip that could find noM answer for him. He could say no more. ’ Hilda understood till those few words im 11 plied. * “Mny I call this evening?" ho asked.il gently; but the "rd ripe lips” never *1 moved in reply. Mr. Seaton gazed nt tha’l changed face in wonder. The half sad rfl look, the pallor, end the dim eyes, had 1 disappeared ns if by magic. It was a 1 beautiful, radiant girl up n whom he gaz- 'J ed, whose features glowed with happiness. The artist knew somethi • of the world J and its ways, and 1 gave a shrewd, quick k* glance nt I. .rd Bayi oham; then, for him v the uiystery was solvtd. fl ht n fttl (h’tails of time, eostume. etc. H were arranged. I uh Hutton and Hilda 11 drove auuy. L..r.l Bayneham would not m accept his methers invitation to drive || with her; ho wanted to be alone with bis |j new ly found happiness. Barbara Earle took her seat by Lady I* Bayneham’s side, knowing the time for [a the real struggle had come at last. (To be continued.) Lord Randolph Was Angry. Al an entertainment once, where ‘ Lady Randolph Cliurchill was playing H •hi the piano, says Kate Eield’s Wash- ' ' ington, a tall youth was observed ! ’ paying a languid and rather insolent j attention to the music, standing close | i enough to the performer to have his ! । comments easily overheard by her. 1 "Lord Randy" was close at hand, too, ’ and presently heard the vapid youth J remark: ’ "Deuced line music, you know, binTj it lacks weal soul it Incks weal -o’*^ To the critic’s astonishti’c-.- <l ,nus " t cnlar young man. wit’* 11 big mustache, whom lie had not noticed before, whispered in his ear: “For a shilling I'd wallop the life out of you'." He hastened to withdraw, but without discovering the identity of the author of the menace. The next day, to his delight, he received an invitation I to the Churchin’s home, which he ac- ■ cepted with avidity, tm entering the house he was met by his threatening neighbor of the night before, who. he at once discerned, must be Lord Randolph. Ho proceeded no further than the entrance-hall, for Churchill beckoned to the drawing-room, and out floated Lady Churchill. “This fellow has come to apologize to you for his remarks of last night.’ hissed Lord Randolph. “Now," to the stranger, “down on your knees!" Down went the dandy, lisping out the most abject plea for forgiveness. Then he was turned over to a footman to be put ignominiously out of the door, while the host followed his retreating figure with a roar of derisive laughter. When a portion of the brain is removed, it seems to be removed, but . whether the substance is true brain tissue or not appears to be undetermined.
DURANT TO BE TRIED. HELD FOR THE MURDER OF Marion williams. Brief Story of One of the Most Horrible Tra K e<lies in the History of Crime-Four Victims of a Sun Francisco Fiend. Hod ice Hacked to Pieces. M . 11. Theodore Durant, of San Francisco, medical student ami assistant Sunday school superintendent, is to stand trial for the murder of Miss Marian Williams in Emanuel Baptist Church library Friday night, April 12. The coroner’s jurj has found that the young woman came to her death by his hands. T here has been no more sensational murder mystery in the criminal annals of the Golden Gate city than the case of William Henry Theodore Durant, charged with the double murder of Blanche Lamont ami Minnie Williams, against whom is the suspicion of having stabbed to death a young drug clerk named Eugene Ware. The mystery and sensationalism surrounding the ease are heightened by the disappearance of two other women known to be acquainted with the alleged murderer, a Mrs. Forsythe and Miss Agues Hill. While the police have accumulated a of direct ami cireumstantiui evidence against Durant, the prisoner coolly । , denies his guilt and claims that he will prove an alibi. If it shall be shown that Durnnt is the murderer of Blanche Lamont nnd Minnie Williams the strange vase of "Dr. Jekyll nnd Mr. Hyde” will have been outdone in real life and will i Jinve furnished the strongest kind of additional proof that “truth is stranger than Action.” ®So tar as outward appearances go Duta: has been a model young man. who Mother drank nor smoked; the assistant superintendent of a Sunday school, the ^W*arinn of a church, of gentle demeanor #tb> < hristian spirit. Such he appeared be to those whose good opinion he Sought, but some of his associates say tha' n private ho was blasphemous and feul mouthed; that he practiced al! the i ^Mps he [Te1e;.,1,,1 1,, ;,t,||,, r a n<] that Ins g-. u psb LAaI’A’T . r _ e;- ■ j THE MI KI»EHH» OIKI.S. remarks nUmt women were particularly offensive. It is n ease that has no parallel except the Whitechai>el horrors which startled London ami all the world a few years ago, and the ease of Jack the RiplH’T lacks, so far as known, many of the psyvhologien) j feiitun s of xU* 'Vfwo.lore Durant. N nothing to show that .la. k the prctcmhsl to lead nn .-s. ...ptf Christian life while committing his atr<> cions butcheries. The combination of saint and tieml in ope hue in bem_ .1.. p rus the mystery of tpe Emanue! < !iur h teiurdcrs. ami has aroused univ rsal in terest in the ease. Work of u Fie nd. k The developments of a week have been ■ifficient to cause the greatest exeitetfc it. First came the finding of the nude ■ of Marion Williams, a young girl i KiO had been missing since the day beiu n closet off the library of the ■lurch. It was terribly mutilated. The ■Ming of this body, startling a- it was In itself, gave the [siliee an idea which th. y w. re not slow in working on. T!i< Bose friend of Miss Williams. Hhim he Kamont. had been missing for more than ’ hfi •> weeks c ct a -■< ar h for h r . ci b. . a in vain. Rut upon the ghastly discovery in the closet a thorough and systematic . pxamimition of the building was decided i ! MP' Away up iu the belfry her lardy ‘ WB s at length found, nude like that of her fri' d, and also horribly mutilated. The ! jßthing which was torn in shreds from th' body had b«'en tucked into corn, rs and ' Mies in the dusty old belfry, hi the two ■ ! .weka during which it had lain there a ' navy coating of dust had settled like a i ’ ■roud over the body. Upon this discov■y the excitement in the citv, which <VJ.'s intense before, knew no bounds. Other Devclopuieuts. jTo follow the various steps by whi> h toe police advanced to the point of arr^sting Durant upon suspicion of having Wen the murder would be as unnecessary js it would be tiresome. He had hardly )ei n arrested, however, when it seemed i ■barent to the authorities that if he । ft: .' guilty of these crimes he must also I Ute committed two others which were ; ■king the detectives a deal of trouble, j ^^i^tairs. He «a-a\ irj ’closeJA K i; . i^^nrant. This was one of the mysThe other was the sudden disapI > 'MI a W. H. T. DURANT. pearance about a week before the discovery of the bodies of the girls of a woman named Forsythe. She was a friend of Durant and was last seen in his company. So much for the first chapter, that of the mystery. The second is not a whit less sensational. The Victims. The two girls were close friends, as before said. They were also friends of Durant. Mrs. Ada Forsythe was also a
member of the Emanuel Baptist Church, and although her body has not been found after diligent search, it is believed she met a similar fate as that which befell the two girls. She was seen with Durant about a week ago; since then she has been missing. Druggist Eugene Ware was one of Durant s closest friends. It is now said that the latter became jealous of him on account of some girl, and that this was the reason for his murder. Here are some of the most damaging features of the evidence against Durant: Ware was stabbed eighteen times by a /^i '■r'’ am i'afflJMM THE 1 MAXI EL BAPTIST CUI R< H. man who held his throat with his right hand and used a dagger or knife with the left. Blanche Lamont was strangled by a left handed man. Durant is noted for ■ his dexterity in using his left hand as : well as his right. On the day of the dis- | appearance of Blanche Lamont—she i whose body was afterwards found in the ! belfry Durant was observed by the orj I'.uniiig down from tile loft in a most excited ami nervous state. He explained that he hn.l llp thorn ■ some electric wires and had been overcome by the gas. Three of Blanche Lamont’s rings were received through the i mail by her aunt on the day her body was found. On the paper in which they were wrapped was Durant’s name, in an overcoat pocket in Durant’s dressing room nt home was found Miss Williams’ pockeiboi>k 1 in -e are some of the links iu the chain which is being forged about Durnnt. MINT SHORTAGE $90,000. Something Over That Amount Makes the Total of the Loot. Siq Tinii ndent Mason of the Government assay office in New Y'ork has been in full charge of the mint scandal inves-
tigation at <'arson. Nev., for two weeks, aud it Ia understood tie na« eomplet- I cd his investigation ’ and forwarded his J report to Wnshing- \ ton. Tlie total short I age will ri a<h a trifle (over Slki.t**), which ii is due to the slutting ■of the bullion deposits with gobi bricks. It is understood, also, that his report will exonerate entire-
■... SI PT. ADAMS.
ly the present administration from any wrong doing. The only loss discovered since the present administration came into power was one bar of gold valued at ab<u NSm. and there is 1 reason to supp- so that this was taken by a part of the same gang that manipulated the goldbrii k trick under the other administration. .hist ns soon as these discoveries of fraud were reported to the Treasury Department, which was about the middle of February, three of the shrewdest detectives in tile secret si twice Were sent immediately to Carson City. They wen not long in getting on the track of the offenders. They discovered that several of them were still employed in the mint, while the chief culprit had left the service. They then set about locating h : m. It was found that he had gone to San Francisco, where he will be arrested at < nee. His arrest has only been delayed in order to secure further evidence, and if he should make the slightest attempt to leave San Francisco he would be apprehended immediately. * I'liuUipisuH u \ del nil uduc Black Hawk war, died Friday at Kansas City, aged IX) years. Jagolkowsky is the depressing name of an anarchist recently sentenced in Europe to penal servitude for life. Albert George Sandeman. the new Governor of the Bank of England, was born in 1833. He is a wine merchant. Li Hung Chang is said to be gaining ilesh. It’s too late for him to turn the scales in favor of China, however. The Rev. Otis Wing, the oldest Baptist minister in America, is seriously ill at his heme in Newton Junction, N. 11. Dr. Dwight, author of "Man and the Glacial Period," says that man has not been on the earth more than SJHMJ years. Zola has completed the first sketch of his novel on Rome, but the book will not. be ready for publication till next January. William E. Gladstone has announced that he cannot undertake to either read or answer any letters that may be addressed to him. The Emperor of Germany, it is said, has decided to honor Bismarck by having his head stamped on the future issue of German coins. Sir William Harcourt, the English Chancellor of the I'.xchequer, has gone back to the use of manuscript when delivering his speeches. Shenlaro Yokozuka. a Japanese student of the New York Evening High School, has been awarded the Tiffany gold medal for the greatest improvement in drawing from antique easts.
Swinburne is fifty eight years old, h five feet high, and has a ghastly face and a head of unkempt hair. Grant Allen began life in Kingston, Ontario (once called Frontenac), with three Christian names, Charles Grant Blairiindie, but wisely dropped two of them. He published his first novels under the pseudonym of "Cecil Power.” Mrs. R. L. Stevenson asks all persons having letters from her husband to send them or copies of them to tho British Museum, that she may select such as should be published, and gives notice that the pv.b.i ation of any letters without the consent of the executors is I illegal. Although Stanley ,1. Weyman has only recently become a popular idol in romantic literature, it is reported that ha received thirty thousand dollars iu royalties from his publisher last year. Nir. Weyman Is a man of thrift and c,f quiet tastes. The novelist is seen ve?’/ rarely in Louden society. He pref»?s life in the country. Count Tolstoi refused a large sum of- , sered to him by an American publisher I for his last story. The Neva, a Russian illustrated weekly, then offered biin SSOO a page for the exclusive right to publish it as a serial. This, too, he refused, and made a free gift of the manuscript to the Severney Vestnik, a Russian monthly magazine. “Books Fatal to Their Authors" is the title of a forthcoming work. Its author explains that the term fatal does not mean in all cases that the writer paid for his venture with his life. About two hundred literary martyrs are recorded, among them being such names as Galileo in science, Defoe In satire, Keats iu poetry. Du Maurier receives Inrtrc numbers of letters from American women who write that they have read "Trilby" and feel sure that there must be a strong bund of mystical friendship between Du Maurier and themselves. Many os them add the cheerful information that they propose to go to England next slimmer and will look him up. A curious book soon to be published simultaneously in England and .America is entitled "As Others Saw Him." It is written by an eminent Jewish scholar, whose name is withheld, and is an attempt to portray the founder of Christianity as he appeared to the most competent Jewish observers, especially the Pharisees of his oavu day. According to the Westminster Gazette, the publishers of Spurgeon's two thousand three hundred and ninety-six I hundred million of them. They are ' kept in sheet form, in long lines of ciiphoards, in a large cellar in Paternoster Square, so that a supply of any particular discourse can be got out at once. Aliout a fifth of tho total number lias gone abroad—to America and Australia chiefly. Os Spurgeon's books tha sale remains fairly steady. DEATH SEEMED NEAR. Rut the Presentiment Turned Out to Be False. Gen. Gordon, a distinguished Southern veteran, re ently told of an experience during the war in the Shenandoah Valley w hen Gen. Early ordered him to storm a Federal fort in their front. "I never tvas more indignant in iny life." said Gen. Gordon, "than when 1 heard my order. I knew it was an unnecessary thing to do, and explained to Gen. Early that we could accomplish ourplan of campaign without slaughtering my command by this attempt to storm a strong positon; a position that would fall of itself when we should make our proper movement. Early took no other notice of my explanation than to send me word that if I did not care to execute the order he tvould delegate its execution to some one else. You may guess this reply made me boil with fresh indignation. I felt it to be an insult, but. inasmuch as it was my place to obey his orders, regardless of consequences I issued the necessary instruction for a movement at daylight next morning. “I began, on my own account, making every preparation for death, for I had a preset timent ’hat J wouUl tins well letter io my wife, told her wliat to do about my affairs, handed over my watch and ether personal effects to a friend, and then walked up and down my quarters waiting for day to break and my command to move. That was a solemn night to me. for I had this firm presen'iment that it was my last night on earth. I always had. iu every battle of my life, a sense of the danger to which I was exposed. I never knew what it was to forget it; but this time I felt as I never had before. “So at daylight I took up my line of march to my death, as I fully expected. On we went, closer and closer to the fort, until at last we were within close range of its guns. I wondered that they did not open on us. and every second I expected to see them belch forth shot and shell and play havoc in our ranks. (in we went; my eyes were fixed on ike guns and my mind excited to its highest tension with wonderment why thev did not open tire. On we went until our advar.ee struck the fort and rushed upon its defenses, when, to our utter amazement, we discovered that it had been evacuated, and not a Federal was anywhere in sight, inside or out. You can Imagine my sense of relief as I saw mv bovs in possession of the fort without so'much as a scratch. So you seo what a presentiment is worth. I haie never much believed in them since that night"