St. Joseph County Independent, Volume 20, Number 42, Walkerton, St. Joseph County, 11 May 1895 — Page 2

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CW well" CHAPTER XIII. It was early on the morning following that the young earl sought his mother. After a night of sleepless and anxious deliberation he resolved upon making an appeal to her affection: that, ne thought, she could never withstand; and he was ight in his conjecture. He appealed to his mother's love, and won from her a nmsf reluctant co ns on t to Ills mnrriuK<' with Hutton"* ward. “I suppose she will inherit nil T^ady Hut ton’s fortune.” said the countess. “I have never thought about it.” replied her son, indifferently; “she is peerless herself; but 1 have no doubt she will.” "It will not be so bad after all,” said her ladyship, complacently, “if her pedigree is all right,” Lord Bayneham laughed, and, elated with the concession he had won from his proud mother, went to seek Lady Hutton. There seemed to be a strange calm in the house when he reached it. The windows were closed, and the servant who opened the door looked unusually grave and serious, "Can 1 see Lady Hutton?” asked Claude; "is sho engaged?" "Her ladyship is seriously ill, my lord,” was the man's reply; “she was seized with a tit last evening, and has not been conscious since.” “Is Miss Hutton with her?” he inquired, Inexpressibly shocked at the news. “Miss Hutton has never left my lady since she was taken ill.” the man replied. “I hope to hear better news this evening,” said Lord Bayneham as he turned away. He felt like one in a dream; the sun was shining brightly, the streets were crowded with gayly dressed people; life, gayety ami happiness seemed to thrill through the summer air. yet over the house he had left hung the dark cloud of illness, and perhaps approaching death. He went to his club and there wrote his first love letter, telling Hilda her sorrow was his, and asking to share it. "Let me see you this evening," ho said, “just to give you some little consolation.” When the letter was gone Lard Baynoham felt more at ease. To do his mother justice, she was startled and shocked to hear of Lady Hutton's illness. “It would be most awkward if anything happened just now,” she said. “1 trust, at least, she will recover consciousness.” The day passed slowly, Claude longing for the evening, when he could see Hilda ami share her sorrow.

******* A dark cloud hung over Lady Hutton’s magnificent house. The servants moved noiselessly and spoke in hushed voices. Grave physicians met and consulted how best to do battle with the grim king of terrors. In a luxurious chamber lay the la' 1 so suddenly and awfully stricken. The s. aimer sun tried to pierce the rich green hangings- and succeeded in throwing a mellow half-golden light over the room. The velvet curtains, with their deep fringe, were thrown aside; there, pale, serene and calm, no longer conscious of earthly things, lay Lady Hutton. He? pale lips were parted, and a faint, feeble breath passed them. She lay there, and life was ended for her, its hopes and sorrows all over. It mattered but little now that she had loved ami lost, that she had been rich, courted and flattered, that men had bent before her and paid homage to her rank and wealth; all that was over. Before the sunset she would be where virtue and goodness, not money and position, take the first place and wear the golden crown. Only one thing mattered now, and that was, if the life ebbing away Lad been well spent. The moment had come; the evening sun had set in all its glory; the beautiful yloaming. half-golden, half-gray, had begun, when Hilda, bending over the white face, saw a faint quivering of the closed eyelids and the sealed lips. Then the dark eyes opened with a wistful, wondering look, that pierced the child’s heart. "Hilda,” whispered Lady Hutton, “what is it, my darling? Am I going to die?” “Mamma,” cried the trembling girl, “let me go with you.” “I must tell you,” said Lady Hutton, “something—let me have more air, I can-

not breathe. I want to tell you, darling, j about your own mother. Perhaps I did I wrong—but I loved you so dearly*-you are I Skemy'm Maud. Can no one give me ■ air?" Hilda tried to raise the dying lady, whose words came in short, quick gasps. "1 want to tell you, darling,” she saidthen a sudden glaze fell over the wistful eyes, an awful pallor settled on the face, and the half-raised hand fell heavily on Hilda's arm. Lady Hutton had gone “where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest.” “Carry that poor child away,” said Dr. Wolls, to one of the attendants. Hardly more conscious than the one who lay at rest, Hilda was carried into the nearest room, which happened to be the library, ami laid upon the couch. At that moment there was a slight stir in the hall; Lord and Lady Bayneham had arrived. The intelligence of the sudden death had bewildered them. “Where is Miss Hutton?" asked the

young earl. “Lady Bayneham is come to take charge of her; let us see her at once.” The man who had opened the door never dreamed of offering any resistance. “Miss Hutton has been taken to the library, my lord,” he said. When they entered the darkened room Hilda raised herself from the couch. “Let me go back to her,” she was saying to Dr. Wells. “I cannot believe it. It is impossible she c^in be dead.” Then the tired, frightened eyes fell upon the face of Lord Bayneham. She moved toward him with a wistful cry. He clasped her in his arms, and laid her head upon his breast.

"Hilda, my darling,” he whispered, “my wife that is to be, I am come to share your sorrow—-it is mine also.” Lady Bayneham looked on, her eyes full of tears. The delicate, lonely child, so lovely in the abandonment of her grief, touched that world-worn heart. She silently withdrew with the doctor, and left those whose love death had sanctified. CHAPTER XIV. Lady Bayneham forgot all her own cherished notions of etiquette, and warmly pressed the lonely young girl to return with her to Grosvenor Square, but nothing would induce Hilda to leave the house. She was too young, too inexperienced, to know that time would soften her grief. Mr. Abelson, assisted by Lord Bayneham, undertook all arrangements for the funeral. Lady Hutton was laid to rest near the bonny woods of Brynmar, where the jwnter pnrt of her life bad been •spent. Lord Baynebam was chief mourner, and two distant cousins of Lady Hutton s, looking out for a legacy, were thece also. "You will attend in the library for the reading of the will, Miss Hutton,” said the family lawyer, after their return to London. Hilda bowed assent. She was very silent in these the first days of her bereavement, and she scored half shy, half frightened, when with Lady Bayneham. The poor wounded child found her greatest comlort with Barbara—noble, unselfish Barbara, who forgot when she caressed the fair head and parted the golden hair trom the sad. sweet face, that she was in the presence of her rival, the one who had stolen from her her love. She saw a grieving, sorrowful, lonely girl in place ot the brilliant young beauty who had won < laude s heart, and Hilda clung to her as she would have done to a sister of her own. Miss Earle spent the time that intervened between Lady Hutton’s death and funeral with Hilda. She did not leave her night or day; and Claude, who after that one interview did not like to ask for another, found Ids only comfort in hearing from Barbara the loving little messages sent by his fair-haired wife that was to be. The will was but a short one. Th" tv.o cousins were not forgotten; a handsome legacy repaid them for all their affectionate solicitude over tin' poor lady's health. Every old servant was remembered, and the beautiful estate of Brynmar, the house in London, money in the funds, carriages, horses, jewels and plate, were all bequeathed by Lady Hutton to her adopted daughter. Hilda, who thereby became one of the richest heiresses in England. It was all her own, to do what she would with, without any stipulations or conditions; but Lady Hutton hoped she would never part with Brynmar. There was no mention of her adoption or of her parentage, not a word that gave any clew to it

wh:i fever. "1 mast congratulate you, Miss Hutton.” said the lawyer, when the bill was read. “I wish, though.” interrupted Hilda, with fears in her eyes, "that there had been one word of my mother.” Two guardians were appointed to take charge of the young heiress. They were Mr. Abelson nnd Dr. G eyling. who had been Lady Hutton’s confidential friends for many years. Until she was twentyone a certain income was to be allowed her, and Brynmar was to be her home, unless she married before then, in which case she would immediately come into full possession of her property. I or several days the lonely young heiress remained in the large solitary house, seeing no one but Barbara ami occasionally Ludy Bayneham. She would not see Claude yet: she knew his presence would bring with it such a rush of happiness, it seemed almost a sacrilege to think of it. She resolved to return to Brynmar. By Mr. Abelson’s advice and assistance an elderly lady was found who, in consideration of a handsome yearly income, consented to live as duenna and chaperon with Miss Hutton; the two guardians L having decided that she was far too I young and too pretty to live alone. “I fancy our responsibility will soon . ('ml. said Dr. Greyling, with a quiet [ smile. “Lord Bayneham will be very ; happy, I think, to relieve us of it.” . It was nearly the end of June when Hilda and Mrs. Braye returned to Bryn- , mar. Barbara having given her promise , to meet Hilda when the London season was quite over. YVhen she returned to her early home Hilda resolved to search amongst Lady Hutton's letters and papers to see if it were possible to find any clew to her

adoption and parentage. In the grand library at Brynmar stood a large oaken bureau, where the poor lady had been wont to keep all letters and papers. There Hilda searched; there she found letters worn and yellow with age, love letters written by the gay and dashing Lord Hutton to the quiet, dignified Miss Erskine; but neither there nor anywhere (‘lse could she find any mention । of herself. | In the quiet and silence of Brynmar her health and spirits returned. Something of the old beautiful bloom was on her face when, six weeks afterward, Barbara came, saying that, in spite of all remonstrances, Claude would come, too —not to remain, but only for a few hours, just to ' see how his newly won treasure looked. Hilda went with him to the shady green ; glade in the woods where he first saw her; and there, with tears shining in her [ eyes, she told him Imdy Hutton’s dying words, and how impossible she had found

it to discover who her parents were. He loved her too deeply to care, and he kissed the tears from her face, and told her never to think of it again. She was Hilda Hutton to all the world, and would soon be Hilda, Lady Bayneham. He made her promise that when the spring blossoms came she would be his wife. As the time drew near Lady Bayneham made some faint remonstrance, but it was soon withdrawn, because she saw the whole happiness of her son’s life was involved. Unless he married Hilda he would never marry at all. Outwardly she was amiably indifferent, but in her heart there was something resembling dislike for the beautiful young girl, who bad un-

consciously thwarted the one plan and 1 wish of her life and heart. j Spring camo with its blossoms and bud- ' ding leaves. The wedding was to take place in the pretty country church at Brvmnar. and a gay party of guests assembled there. Bertie Carlyon had gladly , accepted his old friend’s invitation to I officiate as best man, for he was longing to see Barbara again. Diffidence or delicacy—ho hardly know which —had prevented him from calling since he knew she was free. The flowers Hilda loved were bloomin H ' on her wedding day, when the words wo spoken that made her Claude Baynehan^. wife, ami no one wished her joy mo w truly or more kindly than Barbara Barlt 1 & Lord Bayneham took his young wit^j^ to Switzerland. He wanted to show ('very beautiful place in the world all t once. Barbara told him, laughingly, ♦ must be content with one, and Hilda h'JB chosen Switzerland. J Barbara's words wore gayest when tjy hour of parting came. Barbara’s fa® was the last that smiled as the earring®' containing perhaps the two happiest p®‘ pie in the world, drove away. Bertie Carlyon stood by Barbara’s si« watching with love’s keen eyes cv®c, change in that noble face. He WWlry trace of sorrow there. Barbara didlm 1 keep her woes for the world's amus^P”’* She was cahn, kind and serene, ful for Claude, for Hilda and Bnynoham. It would have requireSy^t,, shrewdness than Bcrtio possess’d cover any sign of an aching heartingrbosu calm, clear eyes and smiling lips, “I think they will be happy,” he waid, as the carriage disappeared. “SomcSmrtals have an enviable lot. I shouitfl imagine that Claude has not one cloud in his sky. I, on the contrary, have no Sunshine.” i’ “You!” cried Barbara, turning to?him quickly; "why, ever since I can renjeinber anything at all, I have heard my cousin cite you as the happiest man he knew.” "1 make no complaint,” said Bertie. “I hate enjoyed my life hitherto as the birds and Howers enjoy theirs, without thought or care. I never woke to realities until I I became sure of obtaining a certain irons- j tire. Looking within myself, I found I I was unworthy of it. He who would win i must fight.” \\ hy can not you fight?” said Barbara, | interestml, in spite of her own secret sor- ■ row. "You are too diffident. A man should never mistrust his own powers, if ! he would have others respect them.” ‘Miss Earle,” said Bertie, suddenly, “will you be my friend? A man can do noble deeds it ho has a noble woman to influence him. Be my friend, and there is nothing too high or too difficult for me to attempt, if you will aid mo, I should : value your friendship more than the love i of all the world put together,” Bertie was most sublimely unconscious that his words were a declaration of love ' in themselves; and Barbara smiled as she j looked at his handsome, eager face. “I will be your friend," she said, “if, as you think. I can be useful to you." “The mouse once helped the lion," said Bertie; “and it is just possible the time , may come when Bertie Carlyon, the poor younger son of n not over rich baronet. ' may boos some assistance to Miss Earle. ‘ Remember,” In* continued, "if the time should ever come that you want arm or a brave heart, my life iA^*’ r ■ service." And Barbara his words. V-

(To be continued.) Slain by Her Friends. A man in town whose wife is sick was t >hl by the doctor that no visitors i xtero to be admitted under any Hretim ' slaib’es, as their presence would tend to make the woman worse. These orders h(> gave to his wife's mother, who I nas in charge. He found that evening on returning that six women had been : visiting his wife till afternoon. “There was Mrs. A.,” the mother said in exi'iise; “she had a cousin once v. ho was sick the same way, and I thought she might know some remedies.” , Mrs. B. was admitted because she was the kin and might get mad if refused. Mrs. C. was let in because she was th(> richest woman in the neighborhood ami it wouldn’t do to offend her. Mrs. I>. always loaned the patent fiat irons every week, and of course . had a right to come in. Mrs. E. i brought some Jelly over and brought ' Mrs. F., who was visiting her. The man promptly ordered his moth- i er-in law out of the house and put a professional nurse in charge. The । next day he found more women had ■ been in. The nurse told them they ; couldn’t come, but they brushed right ‘ past her and rushed in. The patient tvas nitich worse, and as a last resort 1 the husband had two policemen stand- j ing nt the bed-room door with orders to arrest any person who tried to pass. The doctor says the woman has lost the little chance she had of recoyery, • and that it will be her visitors I wlio ! killed her. Fuels About the I'etinut, • There is much doubt tu pr^^riginal home of the peanut. SouieK»iy that it is indigenous to Africa: others that it was a native of South America and was carried by the earlier explorers of that country to Spain, and thence to Africa. The earliest authentic tradition tells of its appearance in eastern North Carolina, probably brought there by some of the slaveships landing cargoes along the coast. The native Africans recognized and used them. I’eanuts grow upon a trailing vine with leaves much resembling a small four-leaved clover. The small yellow flower it boars is shaped like the blossom of all the pea family. j n . deed, the Agricultural Bureau j n Y\ ashington does not recognize the peanut as a nut at all, but classes among beaus. The soil in which it | s cultivated must be light and sandy After the flower falls away the flowed stalk elongates and becomes rigid curving in such away as to push the forming pod well below the surface of the earth. If by any accident this is not done, the nut never matures.— YVashington Post. i In 1840, at the marriage of the Duke , of Milan, a ballet was presented of , such magnificence that it was talked of all over Europe. It Is stated that there . were over 1,^)0 dancers in this entertainmeut.

WwTHESTOffI Jfty Persons Killed and One 4 Hundred Badly Hurt. tW H farms laid waste. ft ‘ Property Worth Half a Million Destroyed. Survivors of the Horror Deprived of Their Home*—Fair Villages and Fertile Fields Devastated - Schoolhouscß in the Path of the Storm, end Teachers and Pupils Annihilated—«• Carpet of Mud strewn Over Growing Crops In lowa - Work of Wind, Hain and Hail. — Northwestern lowa's cyclone in Sioux, Lyuu.TTJebola and O’Brien Counties cost nt least fifty human lives. A hundred others are injured, and the destruction of ’■"lf a million dollars’ worth of farming property i 8 a ] ow estimate. The whirlwind, but half an hour in duration, while at its fiercest, swept over 1,200 sqtiare miles of cultivated farm land, and left in its wake a ruin rarely equaled in so short a period of time. The number of dead, although not so large as at first reported, Is great enough to have plunged tin 1 whole of Northwestern lowa into mourning. A revised list, as accurate as could be obtained at the time this is written, reports the following: At Sioux Center and Vicinity. John Marsden, Miss Anna Marsden, Mrs. John Koster, Alice Koster, aged 8; : Mias Tillie Haggle, Babe of Mrs. L. . Wynin, Mrs. Annie Postma, Jacob Jani sen, Tewnes Y erhof, aged 4; Maurice i McCoombs, nged 4; Babe of W. Vlesma, ■ Mra. K. Waner and babe, A. Barblin, Mrs. L. E. Ost, Mrs. J. Post. A. M. Per- ■ ry, Mrs. F. S. Fieldcamp, Mrs. Charles Waldron, Henry Smith, B. L. Smith, Mrs. L. Maretie nnd babe, L. D. Everetts, John Prize, H. Dcboor. At S bley. Mrs. John YVaternmn, Mrs. M. Blackburn, Mrs. Herman Belknap. At Lourens. Peter Slimmer. At Sutherland. Rudolph Sehwordt feger. At Creston. Everett Arnold. Many Fatally Injured. The fatally injured arc: 11. Koster, aged 3; Mints McCoombs, Luella McCoombs, Mrs. L. Wynin, J. De- I I boor, Hattie Koster, Willie, Jennie and i Grace Crnimmnn. Maggie, Gertie. Jennie and Jimmie Welbard, Jennie and Eddie Brywu, Ben Pry, John Herman, Henry | Haggle, Mrs. James YVarie. . The greatest loss of life In In Sinus ; County, between Ireton, on the Haw irdto 1 branch of the Chicago and Northwest- I : era. nnd Sioux (‘enter, on the I i Sioux City and Northern. It was a veritable slaughter of the im » i • cents. The children of tender years out- j numbered all others in the mortality list, i | nnd that of those fatally injured. I p.m I the edge of a plowed road two little ones I | lay, their hands clasped together, their i bodies torn and mangled. Beyond them ; j in the roadway the leaves of an nrithme- I I tic fluttered in the breeze. Still further | | on and close to the McCoombs homestead was a baftend dinner bm k< t ami m irby a reader turned back to the page where the old lines ran, “This is a < at; is this a ! cat?” In the wrecked school bouses little feet prottuded from plaster and broken boards. Sun bonnets lay in the pastures y ( How with butter cups. In I one child's hand was clasped the broken slate and in another's a reward of merit card given but half an hour before by I the teacher, dead, also face downward, in the furrow of a distant field. From i . Sioux Center to Perkins and from Perkins to Hull and George and Ashton there was the wail in the close of the spring j afternoon of children, not dead, but dyi ing, children with limbs torn apart, chilI dren who had been carried over fortyI acre fields and hurled into ditches, chil- ’ dren who called out for mothers already dead or beyond the ai l of human help. Death Visits Schoolhouses. About 3 o’clock in the afterno. n black I clouds, with green fringes, appeared west , of Grange City nnd five miles northeast . of the Chicago and Northwestern Rail- , way. From the black mass, nine miles | west of Orange City, as near as could be I estimated, tentacles dropped, and at last a high, round ball, which appeared to strike the ground, rebounded and then ' touched again, just as football wages bei tween goal and goal. Conductor Halnn, i on train No. 10 of the Chicago and NorthI western east-boniid, saw the bounding mass of wind and electricity, as did also his brakeman, W. F. Dobson. This train and its valuable contents just escaped destruction. Annie Marsden, a young girl from Boscobel, YVis., had dismissed her twenty pupils when she saw the approach of the storm. It was already 3:30 in the afternoon. She was conducting her second term of school and two miles beyond her on the same section line her brother was conducting a county school. She boarded at the farmhouse of L. McCoombs the wealthiest farmer in the district. ' His home was a quarter of a mile distant from the school. Four of his children were taught by her. When she sent the other children home the four were frightened and refused to leave. Annie Marsden stood in the center of the little white school house and drew the four children whose ages ranged from 5 to 14, about her and waited. An instant later the cvclone was upon the school house and the five hapless beings within. In less time than it takes for a watch to tick the seconds ' of a minute the teacher ami one child were dead and two others fatally injured. The school house ami its rock foundation 1 was swept out of existence. At the Haggle school house, where George Marsden, brother of Annie, was teaching, not a ■ vestige of the school house remained and f Mr. Marsden was found some distance * away in a field, dead, together with two pupils. On the McCoombs homestead every building was destroyed but the house. ‘ There was not a seeded crop in his fields 1 worth a picayune, and the honest accu- 1 mutations of a lifetime swept away by a 1

half hour’s storm. His hundreds of ncrex of wheat, oats and barley were buried in dust and debris out of sight forever. JLliw farming machinery was’ scattered fox miles about his home. His cattle wore dead or dying. At the little school house where his children had lisped their A B C s there was a hole to mark the spot, and in his house a little one dead and three others praying for relief from pain. Beyond McCoombs’ the storm raged. < urious things were found in the field by the relief parties sent out. In one field, on the crest of a furrow, lay an open prayer book. A clod of earth pointed to the lines, “Have mercy on me, O God, according to Thy great mercy.” On the fly leaf of the book was found the name ot Eva Butler. Mrs. Butler’s home was three-quarters of a mile distant from where the book was found. Leaving the Butler’s, the storm attacked Herman Ripma, one-half mile north of the destroyed school house. Ripmn had his arm badly ci ushed, his house destroyed and his crops ruined. But shortly before this he lost his wife and two children through trichinae. Presented a Pitiful Sight. At the farm of L. Wylanga was one of the most pitiful sights of the storm. Wylanga was some distance from his huust when the cyclone struck his fields. lie WHS picked up in the teeth of the gale and carried bodily ove.? forty acres of land. He fell in a plowed field, practically uninjured, but frantic as to the safety of his own wife ard children. The wind hud lifted him over t s-o wire fences, but on his return he ba 1 to cut these down in order to pass. He found his house, barns, sheds and granaries gone. His hogs and chickens were lying in their yards. Still searching for his wife, he walked to the southwest of his house. In a field tilled for an early trop of corn, he found her, face downv ard, unconscious. She had been cnrrie.l before the wind until her strength left her. In her head was a terrible gash and from her htpa downward whe was a mass of bruises. Close to her bosom was clasped her baby, dead. Thus husband and wife met, with the rain beating down upon them and the ruins of their home. The description of the MeCoombs and YY’ylanga property and school could be repeated on nearly every section in the wake of the storm. Numerous victims were found lodged in the trees, whore they had boon hurled by the storm, nnd so seriously injured that death is expected momentarily. Two grown boys who had come from the field near Alton nt the approach of the storm were injured in the barnyard, one sori- 1 ously nnd the other fatally. Wires were completely stripped from the posts, and in some places posts were all taken from the । ground. Horses, cattle and vehicles were hurled through the air like chaff, and the country for three-quarters of a mile wide and many miles in extent is entirely wrecked. ' \\ here had stood fine residences could 1 be found nothing but a cellar hole and in i some eases a few twisted timbers, while strewn on the ground were portions of the buildings and furniture, bearing not tin' least semblance of their original form and useless except for kindling. Fields that were beautiful ns green carpets with the sprouting grain are now as bare as in the bleak months of winter. Trees are upreotcU mxl all is OcaolmUn nlcug tl lo

I trail of the destroyer. In OscooH County Mrs. John WaterI mnn, five miles west of Sibley, was ins'autly killed. A joist fell 0:1 her neck. She 1 ' Id her baby in her arms and the I aby e.- wd injury. The Melcher and Wh ccy m ): >ol houses wire both wreck'd. M: s Marie ], ten lor of the 'oi i'niy, closed the s bool twenty minnos before the storm struck. John C im.!dii>, wife and t-n children were all sin i d by taking refuge in a cyclone cave, ricy lost their house, household goods, barn and had a horse killed. DLSiKICTION 18 WIDESI'KEAD. Other Points Contribute to Ilie Death List by the Cyclone. Aside from the cyclone proper, which was confined to the three .Northwestern lowa counties, other sections of the country suffered from severe wind ami electrical storms. On Saturday afternoon a terrific wind at St. Charles, Uh, blew down the brick walls that were left after the destruction by lire of the Lungreen & Wilson block. Next to the east wall was a small building owned by George Osgood, formerly used as a post office. It was occupied by Mrs. Hattie E. Church, milliner; John F. Elliott, justice of the peace, and the Anderson Sisters, dressmakers. The heavy wall crushed the small building, killing four persons and injuring two others, as follows: Charles Anderson, Miss Gustie Anderson, ?drs. Hattie E. Church, Joseph Thompson. The injured were as follows? Luke Cranston, will die; Andrew Johnson, Elgin. Fred Cronkhite and his team were killed at Henderson, Uh, by lightning. The storm was severe at Abington, unroofing the new wagon factory, causing a damage of SIO,OOO. Reports from the country indicate great damage. Everett Arnold was instantly kill'd by she storm at Creston, lowa. J. F. Smith's house near Lake Geneva, Wis., was struck by lightning and totally destroyed. Loss about $40,000; well insured. Several freight cars were also burned. George Rhodes and James Ashford, who had taken refuge in a barn, were killed by lightning at Lancaster, Mo. Both men were farmers living near Downing, and each leaves a family. Three barns belonging to D. Ayres, about six miles west of Burlington, Wis., were struck by lightning and burned to the ground, with a loss of about $3,000. In Racine the residence of James Murphy on Jackson street was struck by lightning and his little son was knocked senseless. Considerable damage was done to the house. At Superior, Wis., water came down in sheets, and a destructive hailstorm followed. Lightning destroyed several small buildings in the country. A cyclone near Huron, S. D., took onehalf the roof off Martin Baum's house and carried it half a mile. Lumber was scattered over the prairie. The graneries were also wrecked and scattered over the country. At their closing session at Carlisle, Fa., the Methodist Episcopal bishops assigned Bishop Merrill to the Pittsburg conference and Bishop Vincent to the Erie conference. Ferry Bowser, a former inmate of the Soldiers’ Home at Dayton, 0., and who lived at Elwood, Ind., recently with his family, has disappeared and it is feared . he has gone insane again.

S’EfWfe Mis. John R. Jarboe has joined th® ranks of Californian writers. A New Y ork publisher is bringing out her novel, “Go Forth and Find.” Jules Marcou, who writes the book entitled “Louis Agassiz; Uis Life, Letters and Works,” which Macmillan & Co. announce, is the last surviving European Nationalist who came to this country with Agassiz, and was closely associated with him as pupil, assistant and friend. Charles A. Dana has edited, revised and added to his lectures on the making or a newspaper, which will be published in book form by the Messrs. Appleton. Few lectures imve attracted more attention than these by the editor of the Sun, and the book is sure to • nive a wide roading. Here is Andrew Lang’s story of Stevenson slapping a Frenchman’s face: "Stevenson was in a Paris case, when he heard a native stigmatizing the English as cowards. He slajqied the face ot tile traducer, who said: ‘^lonsieur, you have struck im’.’ To which Stevenson blandly retorted: ‘So it seems.’ Y<‘t there was no bloodshed!” YV. J. Courthope’s “History of English Poetry,” which the Macmillans will publish, is to be a prodigious work in four or five volumes. The first volume, which is nearly ready, contains chapters on the character and sources of medieval, Anglo-Saxon and Anglo-Nor-man poetry. The author’s aim is to interpret the development of English poetry by showing the relations of thought existing between the Middle Ages and the Renaissance. An Irate correspondent of the Tall Mall Gazette wants to know why YVJI- - Watson, who is an able-bodied man in the prime of life, should, on the plea of having written two or three small books of imitative verse, be provided with one hundred pounds a year of the public money for the term of his natural life. The correspondent intk mates further that Mr. YVatson is “i, pauper on Parnassus” and a “cockered-' up nursling of a clique.” At < Jeorge Cable’s home, in Northampton, Mass., there was lately 7 a double celebration—that of his own silver wedding and the marriage of his eldest daughter, whoso advent inspired her father’s only published verses: “There came to port, the other day, The queerest little craft, Without a stitch of rigging on, I looked and looked and laughed. “it seemed so strange that she should

(Across that stormy water. And anchor there, right in my room, My daughter, oh, my daughter!” Come to Stay. Thore are many reasons for thinking that the bicycle “has come to stay.” Undoubtedly some of those who take it up because of its vogue will tire of it after a while, but these will not constitute a large proportion of the whole number, says Century. The great body of riders find in the bicycle a new pleasure in life, a means for seeing more of the world, a source of better health, through open-air exercise, a bond of comradeship, a method of rapid locomotion either for business or pleasure, and many other enjoyments ar d advantages which they will not relinquish. The bicycle has, in fact, be--ome a necessary part of modern life, and could not be abandoned without turning the social progress of the world backward. England and France, notably in the larger cities, have been so given over to it for some time that a large proportion of their population come and go on their errands of business or pleasure “on a wheel.” Americans who have recently traveled a*broad have been astonished at the general, use of the bicycle there, and have been still more astonished, on returning to their own country to find what headway the passion has made here. It is said to be a conservative estimate by competent authorities that during the past year a quarter of a million bicycles have been sold in this country, anil that the number of riders approaches a million. There are said to be over fifty thousand in New York and its neigh- -- >rho<>d, and fully half tl^—■ and about Boston. ThSnrjsissß won caught the passion from Europe some time before New York did, and has a larger proportion of its population, male and female, regularly devoted to it. Why He Was Silent. A physician describes, in the Atlanta Journal, a remarkable case of a patient’s confidence in his physician; When I was a student in Philadelphia I had a patient, an Irishman, with a broken leg. When the plaster bandage was removed, and a lighter one put in its place, I noticed that one of the pins went in with great difficulty, and could not understand it. A week afterward, in removing thir pin, I found it had stuck hard and fast, and I was forced to remove it with the forceps. What was my astonishment, on making an examination, to find that the pin had been run through the skin twice instead of through the cloth. “Why, Pat,” said I, “didn’t you know that pin was sticking in you?” “To be shore I did,” replied Fat, “but I thought you knowed your business, so I hilt me tongue.” “Don't you find it rather difficult to get rid of them?” was asked of the man who Is making a .specialty of Trilby tableaux with society women in the title role. “Oh, no. Whenever a woman doesn’t suit I tell her that her feet are too smalL”—Hartford Courant