St. Joseph County Independent, Volume 20, Number 51, Walkerton, St. Joseph County, 13 July 1895 — Page 2

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F'|^lw •fe^fe^W r It: W ^—y^’ CHATTER XXVIII.

When Lady Hilda opened her eyes and •aw her husband bending over her, a cry of fear and terror escaped her lips. The face that she had never seen stern or angry before, was both now; there was no smile on his lips, such as he was wont to greet her with. Anxiety and sorrow, mingled with impatience, darkened his brow. Iler illness alarmed him; ho could not understand it. “Did I frighten you, Hilda?’’ he whispered, gently. “How your hands tremble! Surely, you are not afraid of me. I have never been angry with you, love; only—l don't understand." She tried to answer him. but her overwrought nerves gave way, and she wept passionately, bitterly, as one who had j no hope. He soothed her with gentle words, such as one uses to a grieved child. Lady Bayneham quitted the room; tears and caresses were not in her line. "You shall not be teased any more, Just now," cried Lord Bayneham. “You have not strength to tell me anything. Lie down again, and try to sleep; it grieves me sorely to see that face.” । Her passionate weeping was abated; she lay passive and still, listening to his voice with a sick feeling of despair. Lord Bayneham gave Pauline strict injunctions that her lady was not to be disturbed; he then left her, hoping she would sleep. His mother anxiously awaited him. and asked, hastily, “What is it, Claude? Why was Hilda so frightened?” “She is very ill,” he replied, sadly, “and nervous, not frightened, mother. What can she have to fear? I Was too abrupt." “Did she tell you how the bracelet came to be lying in the Lady’s Walk?" asked the countess. “No,” replied her son; “sho seemed so ill and unlike herself that I did not mention it. lam sure it is all right, mother,” he continued, seeing the expression of her face; “we shall find it no mystery after all. My wife can make all clear in a few words.” Despite his assertion, the morning wore on heavily for Lend Bayneham. He tried to make himself feel sure that Hilda would clear away all the unpleasant mystery by a few’ simple words. Twice he went to the door of her room, and heard with half impatient satisfaction that she still slept; and it was long after midday when Pauline told him her lady was awake, but seemed very ill. He looked with unutterable astonishment upon the change in the fair young face, •wrought in these few hours. Could it be mere illness or fatigue that had blanched even the lips, and darkened the violet eyes with so deep a shadow? Was it illness that caused her to clasp her hands when she saw him. as one does who prays in mortal agony? “Hilda.” he said, “you look as though you suffered terribly. What is it? No trouble can have come to you without my knowing it. What makes you ili? Why do you look so strangely at me? What has come between us?” He waited, but she spoke not a wo.xl. “You would never keep a secret from me. I know,” he continued, “or I should fancy that something terrible weighed upon your mind. Do not look so sad. Raise your eyes to mine, love, and if aught troubles you tell me—let me share it." He clasped one arm round her and drew her golden head close to him. “Has any one insulted or annoyed you?” ho asked gently. “No.” she replied—“what could make you think of such a thing?” "Are you sure, Hilda,” he asked, “that you have not been subject to annoyance from any of our guests?” “No,” she said again, but he saw her face flush with pain. "Why do you ask me so strange a question. Claude?" “My mother thought that on two occasions Mr. Fulton had annoyed you by slipping nonsensical little notes into your hand,” he repeated. "Is it true, Hilda?” He saw her pause before replying to his question. "It is true ho gave me two little notes,” she said, in a faltering voice, “but they did not cause mo any annoyance. Claude.” "May I see them?” he asked. “They are destroyed,” she answered, in

flip same low. constrained voice. “Will you tell Ilie their contents?” he asked again. “I cannott" she gasped. lie knew not what to say; never once had the eves wherein truth and love ; shone so Wightly been raised to his. The ‘ long dark lashes drooped on the white I cheek, and she spoke as one under compulsion. Lord Bayneham sat for some minutes in silence, gazing wistfully at the beautiful trembling girl by his side. lio was sadly grieved. His young wife had ever seonu d to him pure, gentle and truthful ns a child. Now, with a woman’s sorrow on her brow, with her averted eyes and trembling words, she was like a stranger to him: and it was with a deep sigh at the unpleasant task before him that he recommenced his inquiries. “We will dismiss that subject, then, Hilda—the first secret ever kept between us,” said he. “Now explain for mo this mystery—how came your bracelet, the one you should have valued for my sake, to be lying in the Lady’s W alk ? ’ Then the calm of that sorrowful young face was broken; a quiver of pain passed over each feature; a look of despair shadowed the violet eyes; but Lady Hilda allowed the anxious, eager man to repeat his question before she seemed to understand it. “Spare me. Claude, ’ she said, holding out her hands to him. “Spare you, Hilda!" he cried. “What ;an you mean?—spare you! What have I over done that you should speak so to me? *¥ould I not spare you every sorrow if I jiould? I only ask to shield you from all

care, to make you happy, and make you love me as I love you. What am I to spare you ?” “Any questions,” she replied, weeping bitterly. “I cannot answer them, and they torture me.” “lou cannot think they are pleasant for me,” he said. “Hilda, my mother was with me when I found that bracelet. I read a doubt of you in her eyes; it made me indignant. I cannot explain it. Plainly as eyes could speak, hers said to mo there was something wrong. I brought her with me to see how mistaken she was, and you fainted with fear at the question which should have cleared away all silly mystery. That was how you cleared her doubt; can you satisfy my love in no better manner? Am I not quite right in saying that you wore that bracelet on your arm when I hade you good night last evening? It was there, was it not?” "Nos,” she replied, despairingly, “it was there.” “And the first thing this morning 1 found it in the Lady's Walk," he continued; "yet you have never left your room. Can yon not explain how it came to be there ?" “I might toll you a falsehood," she cried “I might invent false stories that would satisfy you but I will not do so; let Fate do her wor^. No untrue words shall stain my lips.. 1 cannot tell you the truth, and I scorn all evasion." Lord Bayncham's face g. v dark as he listened. "More mysteries!" he said, bitterly. "You acknowledge, then, you could explain it if you would, but you will not." Lady Hilda bowed her head, and he turned from the sight of that white, de spairing face. “Are you trying to shield one who has robbed you?" ho asked, his eyes growing bright at the thought. "No," she replied, “no one has tried to rob me." “Did you drop the bracelet yourself?" he inquired. "Do not ask me, Claude!" she cried, with clasped hands, her face streaming with tears. “I will ask,” he repeated, angrily "and I will know. What nonsense!- what folly! One might fancy 1 was a husband in a French play trying to fathom an intrigue. Did you drop the bracelet yourself. Hilda? you force me to speak angrily answer ino." “I have told you I cannot answer you.” she replied, with a tone of keen, sharp pain in her voice, that changed its music. "I scorn to speak untruly. 1 cannot answer you. Fate must do its worst." There was despair in her face and voice —despair so deep, so hopedess, that Lord Bayneham know not what to say or think. "Darling.” ho said, gently, "bo candid with me. Evon supposing you have ilone some little action not quite prudent, 1 could not be angry. 1 know how sweet, and gentle, and pure my little wife is. Do not make me so unhappy, love. Tell me what it is." His gentle tone and kind face touched her more than anger could have dour. and she laid her head on his bren-f. Eke a wearied child who has cried itself to sleep “Claude,” she said, gently. "I cannot tell you; I wish I could die here on your arm, while your face looks kind and you smile on me. It would be easier for me to die than answer your questions.” "I say it in sorrow, not in anger, Hilda." he replied, kissing her pale brow, "that the secret you own exists, but which yon refuse to tell me, I shall find out for myself.” He unclasped her arms as he spoke, and rising from her side, he slowly quitted the room. CHAPTER XXIX. When her husband left her. Lady Hilda sat, incapable of connected thought, conscious only of deep, unutterable anguish, that dulled her brain and seemed to para lyze her mind. She never remembered in after years how the hours passed after her husband left her. It was like a dream of pain, full of sad and miserable pictures. The long night brought her no rest and no calm. She tried to pray, but her restless heart and restless lips could not be controlled. She tried to think, but thought was impossible. A.H around tier, in hlo-is of lire, she read that she was an imo >.t’ar. a convict's daughter, who had no business there. No great or grievous sin marred or stained the course of that fair, tranquil life. She had done her duty as far as she knew it, both to God and man. Sho had never wronged another, ami the poor and sorrowing rose up to bless her. NVhy was she punished so heavily?- all her sorrows came from the sins and follies of others. The weight fell upon her, crush-

ing the brightness from her life, bending the golden head low in humble shame. “Why was it?” Beason gave no answer. She remembered her mother's words, that all would be clear in another world -she would know and understand I why she had suffered in this. Then over I the fair, sad face there stole a look of sweet, humble resignation. The wild tempest of sorrow became calm, and the beating. rebellious heart grew still. “I must bear it," said Lady Hilda to | herself: and many others, by the bare I utterance of these words, have learned to ; endure heavy sorrows in silence. «*‘» ♦ * * i Lord Bayneham was ill at ease. He I loved his beautiful young wife with a devotion that knew no limits. He could not, in his wildest dreams, imagine her capable of even an imprudence; and he wondered, until wonder became pain, what she was keeping from him. Hejlid not seo how it was possible for Lady Hilda to have any secrets; the simple i story of her life was an open book in which ho had read every charming, innogent page. As for any love nonsense, he would sootier have suspected a brightwinged angel of mercy than his pure, loving. gentle wife. He would have dismissed the whole affair as nonsense but for her own words —her own admission that she had a secret which sho could not share with him. He stood in the library; a mass of papers lay in a confused heap upon the table, all awaiting his attention, but he had ’ none to spare for them. It was seldom the young Lord of Bayneham bore so disturbed an expression on his comely face.

lie was at a standstill, and knew n o t what to do. If for a moment ho felt angry with his young wife, t he remembrance of her words —her pale, wistful face lying on his breast—came over him, and all anger melted away. As 1m was pondering over n'hat to do and perplexed by many thoughts, Barbara Earle entered the room—Barbara, whose noble, soul-lit face looked serene and calm. For a moment Lord Bayneham’s whole heart seemed to go out to meet her. There was no mystery, no concealment here, nothing but clear, glorious truth in the dark eyes raised to his face. "What is the matter, Claude?" s } l9 naked, gayly; “you look as uninteresting as possible—almost cross, in fact. Surely you are not thinking of this nonsense about Hilda's bracelet? Lady Bayneham has just been tolling me where you found it.” “And how do you imagine it e au ie there?" asked the earl of his cousin. "I should never try to discover,” re- ■ plied Barbara. “Perhaps Hilda’s maid took it to be cleaned or repaired, or ' something else, and dropped it; or. perhaps Hilda walked in her sleep. I toll you ' what, Claude; I should imagine every combination of strange and singular circumstances before I dared to think even ' the slightest wrong of one so purejtnd gentle as your wife.” » "But it strange,” said Bnynehnm. “The thing that most is, that she seems so frfghton<><!^phe trembles nt the very mention of The ' word.” L. I “Is she frightened?" asked Barbara, earnestly. “Then my idea is a correct one. Bely upon it, Claude, there is some little mystery, and Hilda is shielding some one else from blame." “Sho ought at least confide in me," said Lord Bayneham. “Perhaps she fears your amp r for the real culprit." said Miss Earle. "1 do not think so.” replied Iter cousin; 1 "sho talks so tragically t>> me. poor ch id, that 1 am afraid there is something not qmte straightforward. She tells me she cannot explain." "Then." replied Barbara, with generous ’ spirit, "if she says so. Claude, never seek ■ to know the rest. When a pure, guile- ; ; less woman, like Hilda, wishes to keep a secret, be noble, and allow her to do so. Roly upon it. her motive justifies her." I "You love my wife, Barbara," said Lord Bayneham. “That I do." replied Barbara, "truly and warmly. I have implicit faith in her. Why. Claude, remember that sweet face. ! What could it hide? no sin, no error, no wrong. 1 am sure. Depend upon it, this little affair of the bracelet, so perversely > magnified, is nothing after ail. Sfost pr>b- 1 nbly Pauline has been careless, and Hilda shields her from blame." Ix>rd Bayneham kissed his cousin’s hand, loving her better in that moment ■ than he had ever done before. She smiled ns she quitted the library, leaving the sun- i shine of her brave, generous words behind her. No one loved or believed in Lady Hilda more strongly than her husband. Ha wanted to make his mother share that ; faith. For himself, Barbara's words al- i I most satisfied him. If he conk! but con- ■ vim-o Lady Baynchnm! He resnlvM^to ' see the maid hersolf, and questiot^vr. 1 He did so. and sho looked very prclMF^iit^ smiling ns she stood b fore him "I am thinking of ordering n for Lady Bayneham." he said. to surprise her with it. Givo me tlh^tuze of the one she uses.” With smiling, eoipicttish gra ■■ the maid complied: and there v as nothing like even a shadow of fear on her face. "I am afraid the ease in use is not a secure one." centinued Lord Bayneham; i “and 1 have some reasons for bel-.evmg ! her ladyship's jewels are not well kept." Pauline ventured respectfully to deny : the assertion, asking, as was natural, ; what the reason was. "I found a bracelet in the park this i morning." said Lord Bayneham. "which j , had evident:' been dropped yesterday." ; "If a bra Met was dropped there," said Paulino, who did not seem dismayed, "my : i lady must have dropped it. I believe she ; walked out for a few minutes last night; - she has done so once or twice before.” Lord Bayneham made no ■ omment, and Pauline, proud of the young earl s attention to her words, chatted on gayly. I “I la Heve my lady walked in the gar kn a few minutes," she continued; "she sent | me away early, and I saw her afterwards I going down the north staircase. Perhaps i she dropped it there. “Perhaps so,” said Lord B.tynebam, i with well-acted indifference; "but do not mention it, as I intend the jewel case for a surprise.” Pauline promised obedience an 1 tripped away, thinking what a handsome, devoted husband Lord Bayneham was. and how happy her lady must be. (To be continue-].i A Snake-Haunted Tract—lndia. In spots of jeopardy and awkward j angles, attack from behind is the main thing to guard against. Walking on thus 1 communed with rnysolf <f simk^ ami beasts, duly considering wh-r mrri-< I bio bugbears they are to sta? -ai-h'o.o^. An obi poet bus told us not to wlris^b till we are well clear of the wood; “but whistle ye merrily to yourselves" 'I soliloquized) "all ye who range the byways of a snake-haunted tract. Sing i somewhat loudly, by the way, let there be melody not. in your hearts only, but on your lips. Thus shall ye prove yourselves very lords of creation. From ’ the notes of your hymn shall each lewd - beast and unclean reptile floe away, 3 affrighted and amazed!" Would that 1 had practiced what I mused on in silence; for, even as 1 mused, the swish of a rattan rang sharp । behind, and looking to tin’ earth I saw r my boy fell a deadly serpent to the earth. I had stepped clean over him! It was ■ a great escape! My pajamas were 1 , tucked up to the knee, and if the brute r had had time to coil and strike my bare e j legs lay at the mercy of his merciless 1 fangs. He had been lying at full length ' • in a rut between some logs transverse? p ly placed ill a boggy bit of way, and I, walking past noiselessly in rubber-soled shoes, had caught him napping.—Good r Words. Comparative Cost of Wars. All the wars of Napoleon Bonaparte cast his country $1,275,000,000, while, ' the wars of Louis Napoleon cost ( j France $2,210,000,000. The former lt made the enemy pay most of the exi- pense; the expense of the wars waged by the latter was borne by France.

JOY TURNED TO WOE. MANY ACCIDENTS ON THE NA TION'S BIRTHDAY. A Score Arc Dead and Others Will Die -Toy Pistol and Crackers Keep a Barvest-Four Hundred Fall with a Bridge. Celebration Costs Lives. Press telegrams indicate that the national holiday was generally observed throughout the country, and attendant to the celebration were the usual number of fatalities and accidents. The pistol of commerce and the toy pistol got in its work in the death list, many in the roll being victims of this deadly machine. I r irecrackers came next in the list, with a number to their credit. Then came stray bullets, persons being hit at various j times and places by shots from instrument# held by cheerful idiots who shut their eyes and blazed away. Torpedoes hurt few persons, while the rocket list is I small. I Five persons dead end thirty-three injured was the record in Chicago. The dead were not all killed on the day itself, however. Three were victims of the day before,undone fell dead, presumably from heart disease, while watching the celebra- , tion. and one man was drowned. At ’ Marion, Ind., while firing a cannon at the Soldiers' Home John Haupt, an old artilleryman and a soldier in the regular army for seventeen years, was killed by a permature discharge. During the progress of a ball game nt Hinckley, 111., Peter Anderson's O-year-old daughter was struck in the stomach hy a foul bail, causing her death. At Kangley, 111., a man named Mozener had one log taken off by the explosion of a small cannon. In East St. Louis; two serious accidents happened । on account of the celebration, and both will probably result fatally. Eddie Laumann and Willie Strathmnn, sons of prominent citizens, attempted to fire of! a can of powder with a short fuse. In tiri Inga salute at Milwaukee a cannon cx- ; plodod and an old soldier was killed at the Old Soldiers' Homo. A shotgun in the /<W ' p Am i' A? CEI.EIIHATIXO. > hands of Charles A. Hull, a son of Silas ! Hull, a prominent farmer residing neat । Attica, Ohio, was a 'Mdenial'y discharged. ' fatally injuring his mother and his 11- ■ year-old sister. William Boiler, 7 years old, of Tiffin, had both eyes put out by ; the explosion of a toy cannon. A Sioux Falls cannon improvised from a piece of i gas-pipe exploded, breaking $2,000 worth | of plate glass and dangerously injuring J Richard Peterson, a boy who happened 'to be standing near by. At Dubuque, Henry Hilderbrand lost three fingers by I the explosion of a torpedo, and William Callahan, 17 years old. had part of his ' face torn off by a c-immn cracker. FIFTY ARE INJURED. Three Hundred Persons Break Down a Bridge at Bristol, Ini’, At Bristol, Ind., while about 300 of the ■ population were gathered on a bridge Spanning the St. Joseph River watching a tnb race. feet of the sidewalk of the bridge went down, carrying with it 100 persons. The full was about thirty feet and the iron fell on many. As the racers got into their tubs and i prepared for the race the immense crowd ! on the bridge grew wildly enthusiastic. As the crowd surged up against the rail । ing there came a fearful crash and roar. ! The whole side of the bridge gave way. ■ slowly at first, and then with frightful ’ speed, carrying the panic-stricken and shrieking crowd down forty feet to th<i river. For a moment there was almost ' absolute silence before the horrified crowd ■ on the banks could realize what had oc- ; curred. Then as the cries and groans of ?■ those who had struggled ont of the water 'i the”rescue. The water is only J five feet deep at this season and the res- : cuers hurried into the river with boards. ! tubs, and anything that would help the 1 wounded to keep afloat. As rapidly as • possible they were carried to the shore. • while those Kho escaped injury scrambled ! out and assisted in the work. Messengers were hurried away for doei tors and surgeons and every house in the I town of Bristol was turned into a hospital, i Whea the surgeons made a hurried ezI amination they found thirty-eight people i laid out along the shore and in the resi- ' deuces, many of them insensible. Broken legs and arms, hands smashed, and serious bruises were found to be the injuries in the majority of cases. The bridge which gave way has been used for years. Only | last spring it was repaired, and considI ered able to bear any strain that might I be put upon it. Thugs on n Picnic Train. In an attempt to murder the crew of a i Santa Fe picnic train as it pulled out of I Chicago by eight members of the “Henry street gang” a conductor was wounded and two of the thugs bruised and beaten seriously. Over twenty shots were fired by members of the gang and the passengers were terrorized and several women fainted. Many Are Hurt at Buffalo. While the riders were taking the track of the five-mile handicap in the bicycle races at the Buffalo, N. Y., driving park a section of the grand stand fell in. It caved from the very center of the stand, taking with it a section stairway, two Brivate boxes and about sixty people.

Harrington s out. Ch.ef of the Weather Bureau Is Removed by the President. Professor Mark NW Harrington Is no bureau 'h the E United State 3 weather a 2 11 has been removed by President Cleveland, after declining m hand n his res.gnation. The cause of Ins removal is ascribed to incompatibility of temper between Secretary Morton on the X5 an M? n n I,rO - feSSOr Harrin « to n on the • -Ir Harrington was anpinted four years ago by President Harrison, and, alPROF. MARK W. HARRINGTON. department, two years ago last March, there has been friction between him and the chief of the weather bureau. So severe has been the strain in their relations, it is understood they had held no personal communication with each other for more than a year, but that their correspondence had been confined almost entirely to missives of the most severely official style. The difficulties came to a climax soon after the change of administration, when an investigation was instituted by Secretary Morton into the business affairs of the weather bureau, the results of which did not implicate Professor Harrington in any way. This, however, did not ease the strain between him and the Secretary, and it is well understood that for nearly two years the chief of the bureau has bad practically nothing to do with the routine management of his office, which has been governed almost entirely from the department. It is no surprise to those who are well informed that the difficulties have now culminated in the summary removal of Professor Harrington, as it 1* known that he has steadfastly refused to resign. FIELD ON FIRE TWO MONTHS. Peculiar Phenomenon Near Indiunapofie—Wan Once n Swamp. A field which has been burning ceaselessly for two months is the remarkable phenomenon presented by a farm adjacent to the village of Maywood, near Indianapolis. This field is not a towering Vesuvius. but is rather a valley, and from its deepest part comes the smoke that some believe is the precursor of a worse slams that may reduce the village in the number of houses if not in the number of persons. T.-.n months 'C ' “oo>k-- o , < ing from the ground on a lowland spot .'f the Campbell farm. It was thought strange by tioso who saw it. but it was 1 el to be nothing more than the smo.i’t ring remains of some tire. But day af’er >’:iv liie smoko aseended <>r blew a great distance, clinging, although treachero’is'y, to the ground. After a week or so farm Lands passing the field saw tie.mes tiling;:ng with the smoke. 1 hoy investigaied and found the dry grass and binck earth on fire. Sticks were driven into the ground and it was discovered that for a depth of from two to four feet the earth was absolutely reduced to ashes. The field in which this peculiar tire is le rning is a bottom field of black earth that shows clearly its vegetable origin. Those who have lived at the village for years say that tw nty years ago the field , ;:s a swamp, so nil: gly ages old, un i that it was years before -ven cal tie could b# suffered to tread it in search of pasture food. Recently attempts have been made to < ultivate it. but none was made this year. The field looks as though a giant mole had gamboled under its surface, lor it is ridged with tunnels, whose upper sides se netimes assume the prominence of miniature mountains. The mantier in which the lire is breaking out is evidence of its subterranean origin. So complete Las the destruction of the earth and grass been ih the district patches that the little portions where yellow, withered grass may be look like,oases in a desert. Tte M J 1!e wooac .Ti ;> L- tfo f>n7y we Can recall that is worth most when there are flies on it. There are no swear words in the Japenese language. How does Japan express her opinions of Russia just now? A Brooklyn church has built a stable for the bicycles of its congregation, thus laying the path to henven via Wheeling. There is fame and fortune ahead for the horticulturist who succeeds in crossing the Georgia watermelon with Jamaica ginger. John L. Sullivan says ho wants to open a hotel. He might have owned a few hotels before this if he hadn't opened quite so many things with a corkscrew. Campos has ordered 25,000 more troops from Spain. Probably he has just found out that three or four American correspondents have joined the insurgents. Nearly all the important ir >n furnaces in Pennsylvania have advanced wages 10 per cent recently. They are evidently driving their pigs to the right market. The defaulting ex-treasurer of South Dakota should at least express regret that the authorities have been put to so much trouble in preparing a reception for him. A Springfield bicyclist claims that a snake bit the tire of bis wheels and burst it. It is remarkable that any man who sees such things could keep in his bicycle saddle. “What makes Chicago the healthiest of cities?” inquires the Times-Herald. Precisely the same thing which makes it the most moral and religious of cities. Anybody can guess it.

The modest title of Sir Edwin Arnold’s forthcoming book is to be "Tho Tenth Muse.” Du Maurier’s new story has progressed far enough to have received a name, and it will be called “The Martians.” A book on “Labor Legislation In tho Lnited States” is in course of preparation by Mr. W. B. Shaw, of the Review of Reviews. Marion Crawford's address at the Tasso celebration at Sorrento was delivered, it is reported, in the most perfect Italian. It was full of ardent praise of the poet. James Whitcomb Riley declines to make any platform engagements for next season. He intends to remain at home and finish a novel of Hoosier life on which he is engaged. Mary Moore Davis, who became well known in the literary world through her charming story, “Under the Man Fig,” is the wife of Major Davis, political editor of the New Orleans Picayune. The following important piece of information appeared in the Paris edition of the New York Herald recently: SURPRISES IN HEAVEN. (By Commercial Cable to the Herald.) New York, March 31st. —The Herald's leading editorial to-day says that many surprises await us in heaven. NV. D. Howells made his debut as a prose writer (he had already written a volume of poems) with a Campaign biography of Lincoln, a form of literary work usually intrusted to apprentices. The work was so well done that it secured for him his appointment as consul to Venice, and established him in literature. Mr. and Mrs. Rudyard Kipling are to sail for India in the autumn. Mr. Kipling's new "Jungle Book” will not be ready until the autumn, at which time his volume of poems will also appear. His “NValking Delegate” irr the Christmas Century will not be included, as Mr. Kipling is reserving this for a book on American backwoods life. This new collection of verses will consist wholly of sea songs. * Objected to Two Offices. One of the best men in Stafford County, Va., says the New York Sun, was running for supervisor of the county, and, as usual, when a really good man runs for office, there was vigorous opposition to him. Some of it was expected, but when one ignorant but influential old fellow came .. h a>nst the candidate, me friends of both par» ti<-s were surprised, and one of tho candidate’s supporters immediately went to see the old man. "Is it actually true that you are against our man for supervisor?” asked the friend when he had led up to the point. "Os course I am,” responded the old man, firmly. "But he is one of the best men in tha whole county,” argued the friend. “I ain’t doubtin’ that at all, only I can’t vote for him.” "NVhy not?” “ ’Cause I won't vote fer no man under them circumstances.” "Under what circumstances?” inquired the friend in the greatest astonishment, for up to that time no “circumstances” bad appeared in the campaign. “NVhy, wantin’ two offices at once, like he does,” explained the kicker. "Um v. Ulin’ to vote fer him fer Super, but I'll be darned es I'm goin’ to vote fer him fer Visor, and you can tell him so es you want to.” Thereupon the friend of the candidate organized an individual educational campaign, and by his delicate diplomacy brought the old man up to the trough in good shape. Ate His Dinner Twice. An absent-minded Roxborough citizen was sent to the city yesterday, says the Philadelpha Record, to make a few purchases for his better half. Ou prior occasions he had returned home complaining of a beadache, caused hy missing his noontime meal. To make sure he would not forget any of the articles wanted, his wife prepared a memorandum. At the head of the list i^’oo c toiooL your auuicr," and to make doubly sure she finished with the same admonition. Arriving in the city the paper was pulled from his pocket. Seeing the dinner notice he dropped into a restaurant and filled up. Each article was marked off the list as purchased, until he reached the bottom, when “Get your dinner” again appeared. He dropped into the nearest eating-house and gave an elaborate order. It happened to be the same place visited an hour or so before, ami his appetite was a revelation to the waiter, who was the same man who served the first dinner. An Educated Land Turtle. A lang turtle that without fail for twenty-sx years has regularly appeared at the home of Michael Mackey, at Parker Ford, Chester County, Pennsylvania, came to time a few days ago ami is being proudly exhibited around Pottstown by Mr. Mackey. That gentleman asserts that there can be no mistaking his turtle, as the initials of his name are emblazoned on its shell. He says that its training has been so well developed at bis home that at the sound of the dinner bell it comes into the dining-room to receive its allotment of food. It stays around the Mackey premises until September and then goes off to its winter quarters. The only people who will be satisfied in the next world will be the singers and good fire builders.