St. Joseph County Independent, Volume 20, Number 52, Walkerton, St. Joseph County, 20 July 1895 — Page 3

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WK -WBw • c ' CHAPTER XXX. Lord Bayneham was bewildered. If &is wife chose to walk out at any hour or in any place she was perfectly free to do «o; but he could imagine no reason why she should endeavor to keep so trivial a ■circumstance secret from him. Think as he would, Lord Bayneham was no nearer solving the mystery; so he went out into the park, wondering if the fresh air would give him any inspiration. As he strolled listlessly along, Simpson, the itead gamekeeper, saw him, and drew <iear, as though desirous of speaking to liim. “What is it, Simpson?” asked Lord Bayneham, listlessly, annoyed at the interruption. । "I am afrahl wo shall haw some trouble, my lord," replied the man; "I have seen one or two notorious poachers about lately, and I feel sure they have been at their old tricks. 1 was in the park ■all last night, and I wanted to tell your lordship, but I saw you here walking with my lady, and I would not interrupt .you.” “Saw me here?” said the young earl; ■“where, ami at what time?” “It would be after ton.” replied the man. “You wire in the Lady's Walk with my lady. I saw her face, but not .yours, my lord; I did not like to intrude.” Not by one word or look did Lord Bayneham betray his wife. “Quite right,” he said, hastily; “but •what about those poachers? I do not be'lieve in the game laws, as some of my neighbors do, but 1 will have no poaching.” Simpson then entered into details, of which Lord Bayneham never heard one word. “1 will attend to it. Simpson; we will have no poaching,” said Lord Bayneham. -suddenly interrupting the astonished gamekeeper in the midst of a brilliant description of the poaching affray at Hulsmeer. But not one word he had uttered was heard by his young master, who was all impatience to find himself •once more with his young wife. All the way home Lord Bayneham was pondering on the one question—who was walking with his wife after ten at night, when she was supposed to be in her own -room? Could it have been Mr. Fulton?— no. the idea was simply ridiculous. Mr. Fulton might have admired her. might perhaps have addressed some complimen- , tary verses to her; but. under the Earl of i Bayneham’s own roof he would not dare to solicit an interview with his wife. Even had he the audacity to propose such a thing, it was not likely that the fair, innocent lady of Bayneham would consent to such a proceeding. Whoever was with । his wife must have been a stranger, not j •one of those within his own gates. The mystery must be solved; she had i refused to tell him the contents of the : notes; but let that pass —most likely they ■contained little but nonsense. She would not explain the finding of the bracelet: that, too. might pass, but she must tell him with whom she walked and talked at •night and alone. When Lord Bayneham entered his wife’s rooms she was sitting just as he had left her, still and calm as a statue. “I must learn to bear it,” she had said to herself, when his voice at the door •startled her. When ho entered the room Lady Hilda’s heart sunk at the expression of his face. “Hilda,” lie said, hoarsely, “I know all. 'You have no more to conceal.” Ah, never again did he see on mortal face such a look of agony as hers wore then; never did human voice sound so ! despairingly. “You know’ all?” she said, rising and standing with clasped hands before him. Now came the error which for years wrecked those two lives. •“I know all,” said Lord Bayneham. He meant to say that he knew she had been in the Lady’s Walk, and not alone; but she thought by those few words he meant to say that he knew all her secrets, and that she had nothing more to ■conceal from him. Often and often have the events of a lifetime hinged upon a mistake less grave than this. 1 His words, spoken jestingly so long ago. I Sashed across her, when she had asked I "him if he were deceived in his wife what 1 would he do, and his answer had been ^ucli a one must return to her friends. 1 should know how to find a remedy for the mistake.” "Claude, you know all,” she said, looking at him steadily; “did you mean what you said?—must I go?” He did not understand to what sho alluded. He had completely forgotten the ■conversation that was ever in her mind. "Did you mean it?” she repeated, in a low voice. "I always mean every word I say,” replied Lord Bayneham; “and, Hilda, it has come to this ” His sentence was never completed, for just at that moment Pauline knocked at the door. “The Duke of Laleham is waiting to see ;you, my lord,” said the maid. His Grace was far too important a personage to be kept waiting, and Lord Bayneham went into the library, wishing his visitor in any other place. For one hour and a half he patiently endured the martyrdom. His Grace was vitally interested in some county business, and wanted his young neighbor’s support. Lord Bayneham tried honestly to give his attention to every word, but he failed In the attempt. “Landed interest,” “county votes,” “personal influence,” occasionally sounded familiarly in his ear. But it was Hilda’s voice he heard, not his Grace of Laleham’s —Hilda’s voice, asking if she must go? What did the child mean? Go where? —and for what? There must be some stupid misunderstanding. It would have been cleared up if that good man had but deferred his visit.

The poor duke tried hard to make his young neighbor understand all he meant. He thought Lord Bayneham singularly absent, and wondered that he did not show more interest in what seemed to him a momentous question. At length his Grace rose. “I wish,” ho said to Lord Bayneham, “that, if you are not engaged, you would ride over vyith me to Oulston. I think the matter in question should be attended to without delay.” Lord Bayneham consented, simply because he could invent no excuse. In after years he railed bitterly at his folly: for if, instead of going with the Duke of Laleham to Oulston, ho had sought liis wife, and the unhappy mistake had been explained, years of sorrow and unavailing misery would have been spared to them. From the window of her own room the unhappy young wife watched her husband ride away—watched him with a heart that yearned for one more look at his face, one more word from bis lips watched him with a passion of grief so wild and bitter, that she would gladly have died; she did not think in this world ever to seo him again. OuriiiK that one hour and a half, Which had seemed years to Lady Hilda, she resolved upon a step which she afterward bitterly repented. Believing her husband meant that he knew all her secrets, and that ho meant those words, so carelessly uttered, she resolved not to wait until he should send her from him, but go at once. She was half mud. and that was the only excuse that could be made for her rash act. From the chaos of thought one idea stood out boldly—she would go nt once, before they had time to reproach her with her father’s fault ami semi her away. No passionate weeping, no wild burst of sorrow came to the relief of that burning brain. She moved about the sumptuous room like one in a dream, just conscious of what she was going to do, but nothing more. Like an electric shock came the sound ; of Lady Bayneham’s voice, asking for i admittance. She supposed that by this time the whole matter was made clear, and she came in to see how Hilda was. “Gan I come in?” she said. “I wish to speak to you, Hilda." “She has come to taunt me,” thought the poor child; "come to exult over my fall, and tell me she always thought me proud, or something of the kind.” "No, not now," answered a strange, broken voice, “I am engaged; you cannot come in.” Deeply offended, the countess walked haughtily away, and so Lady Hilda de- • stroyed her last chance. If Lady Bayneham had seen the chnni’ ’ ed young face for only one minute she < would have known that the brain was overtasked. But it was not so, and the young Lady of Bayneham went on to her . fate. She wrote a few lines t<> her hnband, and covered them with passionate ■ i kisses; she took from her writing desk all the money it contained, never stopping to i count it. but filling her pocket book with | notes and gold. Then she rang the bell. "Will you say 1 want the carriage. Ban j line - .'" she said to the maid, who gazed surprise at her mistress. “Are you going out. my lady?" asked | the girl; "you look cold.” "I am going,” said Lady Hilda, with a strange smile, "for a very long drive." She dressed herself in silence, placing the letter she had written on her desk. She never once looked round the room v. here so many happy hours had been spent. Long afterward her maid spoke of the strange, fixed, unearthly look or. ' her lady’s face as she quitted the house. i "Where shall I drive, my lady?” asked ! the coachman. “To Oulston," she replied; “go as usual ; to the Bayneham Arms, ami wait." And wait ho did, until the long day ended, but no Lady Bayneham came again. Night came on, still and dark, but there was no sign of her. The man was uncertain how to act. She was punctuality itself, and the dinner hour at the , ! Castle was past. He did not like to return without her, but the hours sped on. ami she did not appear. The landlord suggested that perhaps her ladyship had returned in a friend’s carriage, but all conjectures were cut short by the appearance of Lord ' Bayneham, riding as one riding for his life. — CHAPTER XXXI. The Duke of Laleham found his young neighbor a very dull ami wearisome companion. He could neither excite his ini ton's; nor elicit his attention. Every now I and then lie seemed to awake from a reverie ami utter a few irrelevant wods The ride to Oulston, the interview with I ! the persons concerned the whole busi- I ness, in fact, was a complete failure. “I fear,” said Lord Bayneham to his elderly friend, “that I have been a poor companion; and the fact is. I should have explained it to your grace before. I am not myself to-day, I have some little unpleasant affair on band, and it has - teased and troubled me." "I began to think so,” said the duke, warmly. “Why did yon not tell me? i This business can easily be deferred. I wish you had not stood upon ceremony - with me.” 8 He would take no further excuse, but insisted upon Lord Bayneham’s returning r home at once, lie was impatient to be t there. During all that long, dreary ride, his wife’s sweet pale face had been bee fore him—the sad eyes filled with tears. When Lord Bayneham reached the - Castle gates his horse was covered with 1 foam, and the groom who came to attend j him wondered why his master, usually so e careful, had ridden so madly. But Lord e Bayneham calmed himself before seeing - any member of his family, almost smiling 1 at the excitement which had urged him on. He went direct to his wife’s room and e knocked at the door. No one replied; 1 there was no sound within —a profound, unbroken silence reigned over the sump- ’ tuous suite of rooms. He opened the door I gently, thinking it probable that his wife s slept, and went in; but the fair young - face that ever greeted him with a smile t was absent. ? “Ah!” he said to himself, “she is better J then, and has gone down to the drawing 3 room. I am glad.” t Yet as he stood looking upon the elegant disarray of the room, a cold, strange fear

crept into his heart, and numbed it; h e could not explain why or what—a presentiment of coming evil. A little watch, richly jeweled, lay ticking upon the table; in the vases fragrant heliotropes—-hi^ wife’s favorite flower —gave out a r;ch perfume; a volume she had been reading lay with the leaves still open, and everything bore the trace of her presence. But where was she? j Lord Bayneham hastily descended to th® drawing room, where the ladies of the family generally sat. Barbara was there reading, but no golden head was raised at his entrance. “Where is Hilda?" ho asked abruptly. "I do not know,” replied Miss^Earle, looking at him in some surprise. I have not seen her since morning." .lust then Lady Bayneham entered, with a cold, proud expression on her face, that her son knew well. “Where is Hilda, mother?" he asked, impatiently. “I thought she was with you.” ’ L "Your wife does not honor me with her society,” was the reply, most haughtily given. “I went this morning tn her room, but was decidedly refused admission. I certainly shall not trouble her again,” "But where is she?” again demanded the earl, secretly admiring his wife’s spirit. “You had better summon her maid and inquire," replied the countess indifferently; “I know nothing of her.” Lord Bayneham quitted the room, equally angry at Barbara Earle's easy ’j 1 " 1 * ehalance and his mother’s pride. “Where is your lady?" he inquirj^M. Pauline, who began to flatter heraejfihut the young earl liked talking to her"My ludy in out,” sho repliedcarriage was ordered sumo hours since, and has not yet returned.” Lord Bayneham gave a sigh of mingled relief and impatience. "Did she did your lady say where she was going?” he inquired. "No,” was the reply; “my lady dnly said she was going for a long drive. She : looked very ill, my lord, aifH quite unfit to I be out long.” Lord Bayneham stamped his foot im- ‘ patiently. Why had he gone to Oulston? I Why had he allowed anything or any one I to come between him and his fair, gentle I wife? He was ashamed to ask any more ; questions, or people would surely think him childis’a. But he could not remain in , the house; he went out and walked again I ' where he could see the high road and ! I catch the first glimpse of the carriage, i i One hour passed, and there was no sign 1 ■of the carriage. The evening began to ; set in. the sun sank in the golden west, the dew fell upon the flowers, and the birds j "called all wanderers home to their j nests;" but still Lord Bayneham paced ' the walk alone, until he heard the dressing bell ring. "She must be here sw,i," said the young j husband to himself. Amongst his wife's qualities he had always admired the one of punctuality. He , never remembered to hare been kept ; waiting or to have seen her late. This i comforted him. She knew the dinner hour, i and would not remain beyond it. Lord Bayneham never dressed so quick- ( ly, but win n he desoendod the carriage ’ had not arrived, The first and second bell rang ami dinner was announced, but the young mistress of Bayneham was not In her nceustomed place. “What < au have delayed Hilda ' quirt ! M - L trie anxiously. "She went ; out • iirh tb.is afternoon, intending to take j ! a long drive. Surely m> necident can have i i happened?" Lord Baynchnm's face blanched nt tha ! I thought. "Accidents are not so common. Barbara." said Lady Bayneham; "if anything of that kind had occurred wo should have i heard of it before this. Lady Hilda has , i been absent many hoars; 1 presume she : has met with some of our friends and neighbors, who have persuaded her to return with them.” "She is too thoughtful atid considerate to have done such a thing." said Barbara ■ warmly, "knowing we should be anxious." The countess .-aw that her son sent I plate after plate away untouched, and drank wine eagerly, ns though wishing I either to drown thought or acquire : strength. The dinner passed in a most uncomfortable state of silence, but no i Lady Hilda returned. "1 cannot bear this,” said Lord Bayneham. rising hastily from his chair. "Mother Barbara, 1 am seriously i alarmed. Pauline says my i>oor wife . . looked, very ill when she left the house, i i Mother, be pitiful: she is young and has no mother. Barbara, what can we do?" Both ladies rose and tried to calm him, i for liis wild words startled them. "You had better inquire if any one overheard what orders were given about the carriage,” said the countess to her ■ son. "Do not be alarmed, Claude. Hilda I jis safe, I am sure. Barbara, go to her ■ room. She may have left a note there for us." (To be continued^ CURED HIS DESIRE DEATH Lord Southey’s GuiUoti-^fe ' * Work, So He Li ■ ‘ , ~ , , . tW of disgust Loro Southey once, in with life, had a inngntacJ^ 11 gu.o n.m erected in the ilrnwin^^ 11 ’ i,s magnificently appointed viowse in the Rue de Luxembourg, at Paris. The I I machine was an elaborate affair, with . ebony uprights inlaid with gold and silver. The framework was carved ; with great artistic skill, and the knife of immense weight, and falling at the ; ■ touch of a spring, was of ornamental stool, polished and as sharp as a razor. ; The spring which liberated the knife I was placed within easy reach of any- , l one kneeling upon the scaffold; in fact, I every detail was arranged with a view । to the convenience to the would-be suicide. The day that the engine of death, was entirely finished, Lord Southey completed his testamentary dispositions, shaved, had his hair cut, and, clothed in a robe of white silk, knelt upon the platform under the knife. The guillotine was placed before a : large mirror, wherein the person committing suicide could see his own image until the last. Murmuring a short prayer, Lord Southey placed his head in the semi-circle and pressed the spring. The next morning he was found calmly sleeping in his bed. The spring had failed to work, and, after several fruitless efforts. Lord Southey’ was compelled to relinquish his attempt upon his life. Thoroughly cured of'his spleen . he presented the guillotine to the Glasgow Museum, whence he made an annual pilgrimage to see it until the eud ■ of his life.

TOPICS FOR FARMERS ' A DEPARTMENT PREPARED FOR OUR RURAL FRIENDS. Steers Fed In Sutiinicr Gain Rapidly— Clover Should Be Cut Closely—Heavy Soil Should Be I’lowed on Edge-Gen-crul Farm Notes. i Feed for Steers in Summer. Steers fed In summer on grain and coarse fodder gained in weigli* two and a-half times faster than steers at pastille. Charging forty cents per week lor pasturage per head made the cost of feed, to produce a pound of live weight about 7*,-j cents, compared to 8% cents for the soiled steers, Including their fodder at full market prices, says the Agriculturist. But the manure in the ease was worth three and three-quar-ters cents, making the net cost five cents per pound gain. If the manure equals the cost of attending to the fed steers, summer soiling appears to lie as cheap as pasture. This is the final result of live years’ work with the steers nt the Massachusetts Experiment Station. It suggests the advisability of combining the two methods, uy feeding a little cottonseed meal, wheat, bran, gluten meal or corn meal (whlehevr gives the most actual lulrhnent for its cost) to the steers at pasture. lucre; se the ration toward fall, so the steers cun be quickly finished off when desired. Mow Clover Closely. The loss stubble Is left at the first cutting of die clover the more quickly it will sprout and the larger will be the second growth. la this clover differs from the grasses, which are better for cutting high When clover is lodged it Is very dlftivr.lt td cut it low if the piece Is cut around. Oue aide or the other the knlvc.s w ill run with the lay of the । clover and only cut off the tons, sometimes cutting through a stalk length- ! wise as it lies on the surface. It makes more lab .r, hut it is better for the land to cut and carry a swath, throwing I aside the clover so as to make a path without running over it. A still better way is to grow some timothy with the • I clover. I bls will make the clover grow j less rankly, and the timothy and clover together can be cut better and be cured more qub kly than can clover -done. Plowing Flat or on lldgc. Heavy soil is best plowed in narrow furrows, so that they will not be com- i pletely turned, but set on edge. This : turns some of the lower pan of the fur- i ■ row to the surfiu’e, so that when it Is harrowed the upper and lower strata i of the soil will be thoroughly mixed. I This also Insures a greater circulation ; of air and warmth through the plow vtl soil. Running a spring tooth hnrrow ■ crosswise throngli a sod set on edge i will not bring the sod to the surface, [ but will cut Hie roots and mix them , with the soil so as to make a mellow j i s- e.i l»ed. Thl- Is much b 'Her than the i | se«>*l bed which will he made by har- | lowing the upturned subsoil, brought Ito the surface by a flat furrow. No ■ matter how fine this seed bi d may be, i j it cannot b ■ ns rich ns that made over ; i furrows turned on their edge. Southern lorn Not Profitable. I’rof. Jordan, of the Maine Agricultural Experiment station, has been । making some tests which show the fully ■ | of growing the large Southern corn in i the northern part- of the country to be cut for fodder or for ensilage. This ‘ tall grow ing Dent corn makes a great • bulk, but the season I- not long enough . : to allow it to ripen. When it is cut j in an Immature state analysis shows that the Maine flint corn, which ma- | tures perfectly, is worth more than tlje i i Southern corn, pound for pcitml. judg- ; Ing simply by the per cot . of dry mat- j ' ter. It is also -how n that the quantity J ' of dry matter in an acre of corn at • j maturity was two and a naif times i ; greater than it was at the silk period i . thirty-seven days before, and that the ! I starch and sugars, which are the most j i valuable compounds, increase more ' j rapidly than the less important con- । stltueuts. so that the mature plant is i | of better quality than at any previous ' I stage of growth.—Garden and Forest, i Ktflfc-Grinders for Farmers, There has been some disappointment, attending the use of mow ing mathine i knife-grinders, and in some cases mis- • vopi-esi-ntation in selling them, says the I nJ. I’armer. No grinder will I ~ ‘ 1,1 l-nite which has the sections ground to many d0r..,-, nt bevels, some nearly worn out and others new. without adjusting to each secI tion. which involves too much time and I trouble. If a farmer will get a good grinder, i and, starting with new or nearly new knives, adjust them at the right bevel, j and mark the grinder plate so it can be I set at the same place any time, he can ■ keep his knives in perfect order with I straight Level and keen-cutting edges. ! The grinder should be used carefully, । and the sections brought lightly’ against ■ the wheel, which should be of free-cut-ting emery. The temper will not be drawn, and the grinder will pay for itself many times over. Corn on Outside Rows, Many farmers plant two or three rows of potatoes on the outer edges of the corn field, so that in cultivating the horse can turn on these without treading down the corn. But the potatoes are worse injured by this tramping than the corn is, and scattered as they are on these outside rows, it requires extra labor to harvest them. We have noticed also that when corn was planted out to the end of the rows, the outside hills, despite the injury by trampling, had more grain in proportion to their stalks. This is undoubtedly because the cutside rows get most sunlight. It is a mistake to plant corn thickly. Three grains in a bill, if all grow as all should, are better than more, for if four stalks each have an car the size of the car will

be smaller, and It will make greatel work In husking and handling the crop with little or no increase of grain. Mflk Cooled in the Well. If you are using all ordinary precautions to cool milk, so that you have none returned sour, this article will not affect yea, says A. I*. Sampson, in the New England Farmer. But if you have not perfected an arrangement to do that, this of mine will: 1 had the blacksmith to make for me an iron cage to fit the size of my well, of old tire ironslats of iron on the bottom, four circles of iron on the sides. The top comes to a loop, to hook a tackle to, the double block of tackle Is suspended right over the well. When the milk at night has stood one-half an hour in a tub of water (my milkman furnishes cork stopples to insert in the cans), the cans are put In the cage, which holds ton, and it is lowered below the water. In seven years it has prevented sour nilk being returned. The Iron doesn’t hurt the water any. Makins: Scrubs of rhorouslibreds. In some fading experiments made by Ilie Kansas Experiment Station, the native scrub stock throve better uuder neglect than did the choicest thoroughbred animals. This was to be expected. If a farmer does not intend to give slock good care and feed he ought not to secure the best. A few years of neglect will undo the work of yearsthat Las brought the Improved stock to its

present position. There is a natural tendency towards the deterioration of the best, and the conditions that have developed any excellence must be maintained in order to retain it. There is no use giving a scrub farmer the choicest stock, for he will soon make it scrub In character with himself.' Youuc Turkeys. The great mortality among young turkeys comes from regarding them as hardy ns young chicks. Until the turkey has feathered out, it Is easily killed by exposure to dampness. The turkey t hicks should have food that will make feathers, which is just what is needed for making muscle and bone. One of the best feeds for turkeys is cottage cheese mad ’ into balls and then dried by mixing it with oatmeal. After the dew is off in the morning they should have free range, as the insects they catch are exactly what they require to make vigorous. thrifty growth. Poultry for Home Use. Thore Ic not a great deal of difference in the price of meats, and poultry, which is easily digested, ought to be more on farmers’ tables than it is. The staple meat product used on the farm is pork. That is always hard to digest, a id if more of the vital energy ex p’ndod in digesting pork were used in pushing farm work and planning bet t?r methods farming would pay bettei than it does. The poultry yard should . not be regarded as only a means to make more money. If It helps to make | farm life more attractive it will be nc ; less profitable than if it added directly ; to the bank account.

Profit in Sheep. Don't neglect the sheep because they j are cheap and wool is low. If th« j profit on them is small, iiie more need I of avoiding losses. A man of genius may find a profit in sheep, no mattei what the competition may be. The way to compete is to compete so that th ■ other fellow is not In your way. Sell what lie can't raise, at least does nor. and sell when he has nothing to i sell. This is business, not theory.— <; range Bulletin. Notes. Green bones, pounded fine, are more suitable for laying hens at this season than grain, and will enable the fowls to nrotlnee more eggs than when the grain Is used. I would not keep a cow on my farm that would not earn me SSO n year with butter at 20 cents a pound. Some of my cows the past year have earned over SGO at the creamery.—Gov. Hoard. A one-acre garden planted to propel crops and properly attended will pro- > dnee a large amount of crops at a good \ profit—much more than any one famj ily would need or could consume. From a dairy averaging fifteen cows S. M. Hood, of Topsham, Vt., shows the following record for one year: Milk, 71,717; butter. 3.355.99. Th'? brought $732.36. Average test of milk, 4.69%. He has also sold $l4O worth of hogs and ,sso worth of calves raised on the skim milk. A horseman gives the following adAvoid the lunkhead horze; breed the best; breed none but the best; breed from nothing but your best, and look out sharp to improve on the next cross, and whenever your dam is lacking be sure the sire you use is not lacking in the same point, and if possible, not lacking in any essential qualification. Prof. Crozier, of the Michigan station, from a careful sudy of the subject, especially commends broom corn millet for poor soils and a dry climate, or dry seasons. On good soil and seasons it yields less than several other sorts, but it stands drouth remarkably well, and is better adapted than any other kind to poor soils. Oil is the cheapest substance to use on the farm just now, as it saves wear of implements. Have several oil cans at convenient points, so as not to be compelled to hunt for one. Neglect to use a cent's worth of oil may cause a loss of several dollars. Oil also saves labor by rendering the working of the implements much easier. When a young tree does not grow i and the leaves are yellowish instead of ; green, dig down to the roots and endeavor to discover if some insect or parasite is not working under ground. Then dig away plenty of dirt and drench the roots with strong soapsuds, to which should be added a few pounds • of unleached wood ashes, or put the j ashes iu after drenching the roots. It i wili not injure the tree and may prove : of great benefit. 1

NEWS OF OUR STATE. A WEEK AMONG THE HUSTLING HOOSIERS. What Onr Neighbors Aro Doing—Matters of General and Local Interest—Marriages and Deaths — Accidents and Crimes— Pointers About Our Own I’cople. Indiana Fairs. The following is a list of dates, places and names of associations and secretaries: ,o Aug. 2—l’utnam county fair, Bainbihtge. a. It. Alli en. xr? io' ( 3J 2 Delaware district fair, Mididetown. P. It. Ho l-on. v/i' y cornty fedr, Osgood, i 'Vi IK ii h " ayne comity fair. Hagerstown, •i. . i iHrihjy. 12 to 16—Howard county fair, Kokomo, O. L. Moulder. eA I ^’ J? Qr Grange Jubilee fair. Wirt e.ation, iliomas NV atlingion. D^l^DcVnar ’ l A Jer Cr '° l ' ’ fair - Madison. a I? 10 ’^-Rvuy < ornty fair, Now Castle, A. I>. <lgborn. tiAV"I ly I? - 3 ~D-one county fair. Lebanon, E. Darnell. nAVS' , r ‘ lo 2 3—Ti'. on coi nty lair. Tipton, W. L. Ogle- by. z-AV IS ;, 1J I? - 4 Spencer county fair. Itocknort. < . M. lartratge. . A .'.’ g -, - Newton corntv fair, Morocco, A. E. I’urkey. , Al’^t- (o Mm.in'.-.v.ckre fair, Mormont. .j . li. Koontz. Auk. ‘jo to 23—r>eluware county fnir, Muncie, M. S. < 'laypool. Airj. 20 to 24 —I)enrlx>;n county fair. Lawreneeburg. J. S. Dorman. Aug. 21 to 24—Warren country fair, West Lebanon. M. A. Judy. Aug. 25 lo 30—Hancock county fair, Greenfield. Elbert Tyner.

Aug. 26 to so—Clinton county fair, Frankfort, Joseph Heavilon. Aug. 26 to 30—Johnson county fair, Franklin, W. S. Voting. Aug. 26 to Harri -on eountv fair, Corydon, .Amos Lemon. Aug. 26 to 39—Bridgeton union fair. Bridgeton, F. M. Miller. Aug. 26 to ;;i—Oakland City fair, Oakland City, it. c. Barber. Aug. 27 to 31—Scott county fair. Scottsburg, Jo-eph H. .Shea, Aug. 27 to 31—Remington fair, Remington, Jasper Guy. Aug. 27 to 01—Grant county fair, Marion, H. G. Hamaker. Aug. 28 toPaoli fair. Paoli. A. W. Bruner. Sept. 2 to C—District lair, Boswell, Wm. 11. Mcknight. Sept. 2 to 7—Tippecanoe country fair, Lafayette, Mm. M. Blackstock. Sept. 2 to 7—Spencer countv fair, Chrisney, I’. C. Jolly. Sept. ;j to G— Washington county fair, Salem, C. W . Mori is. Sept. 3 to 7- Slulby county fair, Shelbyville, E. E. Stroup. Sept. 3 to 7—l’ike county fair, Petersburg. W. A. < iliphant. Sept. • to 7- Warren tri-county fair, Warren, G. l-letning. Sept, y to 13—Montgomery county fair, Crawlordsv ille, W. W. Morga*. Sept. '.i to I»—Vigo country fair, Terre Huate, W. 11. Dungan. Sept, a to 13—Daviess county fair, Washington, John Downey. Sept. 9 to' 13—Vermillion district fair, Covington. W. T. Ward. Sept. !» to H —Gibson countv fair, Princeton, W. 1L Kight. Sept, io to 13—Lake countv fair. Crown Point, W. L. Allman. Sept, io to 13—Kentland fair, Kentland, H. Stronme. Sept, io to 13—Kush county fair, Rushville, W. L. King. Sept, io to 14—Huntington county fair, Huntington. Adam L. Beek. Sept. 11 to 14—District fair, Macy, Ira B. Hur''. Sept. 16 to 20—TrLState fair. Evansville, IL L. Akin. Sept. 16 to 20—Cayuga fair, Cayuga, J. S. Groundyke. Sept. 16 to 21—Indiana State fair, Indianapolis, Charles F. Kenedv. Sept. 16 to 21— bubols county fair, Huntingburg. D. Rentpho’er. Sept. 17 to 20—Lagrange county fair. Lagrange. L. M. Rowe. । Sept. 17 to 20—Agricultural and Industral fair. Plymouth. Chris Fisher. s»'pt. it to 20—Wabasli comity fair, NV abash. W E. Coate.

sept, it io 20—Porter county fair, Valparaiso, E. S. Beiwh. Sept. 17 to 21—Stark county fair, Knox, H. K. Koflel. sent. 23 to 27—Jay county fair, Portland, Geo. W. lieigeman. Sept. 23 to 27—Flora fair. Flora. C. E. Nobes. Sept. 23 to 28—Fort Wayne Driving Club meeting. Fort Wavne. H. C. Roekhill. Sept. 24 to 27—LaPorte county fair, LaPorte, J. Vene Dot land, Sept 24 to 27—Fayette county fair, Connersville, W. F. Downes. Sept. 24 to 27—Monroe county fair. Bloomington. R. Worrell. Sept. 24 to 27—Bremen fair, Bremen, Henrv H. Miller. Sept. 24 to 28—Vermillion county lair. New; ort, John Richardson. Sept, m to Oct. 4—Eastern Indiana fair, Kendallville. J. S. C -nlogne. Sept. :to to <>ct. 4—Northern Indiana and Southern .Michigan lair. South Bend. Dixo W. Place. <) 1.1 too— Bedford iair, Bedford, S. T. Zollman. Oct. 1 to 4—Poplar Grove fair, Poplar Grove. A. D. Woods. Get 1 to*4—Randolph county fair, Winchester, D. E. Hoffman. Oct. 2 to s—Fulton county fair, Rochester, Geo. V. Dawson. Oct. 7 to 11—Northeast-rn Indiana fair, Waterloo. M KlpUnger. < let 8 to 11—Steuben county fair. Angola, H. L. Huston. Get. 8 to 11—Bourbon D strict fair, Bourbon, G. D. Estinger. Get. 14 to 13—Ki;ox county fair, Vincennes, J. AV. Emisto. Blinov State Mews. John Black enstiff's large barn, near Wabash, burned. Loss $7,000. Wm. Shaw was probably fatally injured in a runaway accident at Shelbyville. Rev. W. R. Higgins, well known presbyterian minister of Terre Haute, is deal. A Fisn hatchery will be established at Richmond by the fish and game club of that city. Adolph Stang, 8 years old, of Clark's Station, was drowned while bathing in Lake Michigan. In order to employ the convicts in the prison south a new residence will be erected for the Warden. Tin: Studebakers are arranging for a fine reed and horn band among their employes at South Bond. 1 here is now 14.t?t>3 voting strength in Madison County, as against a littlu i than 12,000 at the last enumeration. William House, commission mereha..t and peddler, of Terre Haute, was very dangerously injured in a runaway accident. Mrs. Samvel Royear, aged 72 years, residing in Chester Township, Wwbash County, died from injuries sustained by ’ falling out of a cherry tree. Rev. Isabelle, who .sued the Columbus Herald for $5,000 because the paper accused him of conduct unbecoming a minister and lost the case, has been dismissed as minister of the Second baptist church, Columbus. The southern part of Porter County was visited during the past week by an army of grasshoppers, which is literally eating up the crops. Whole fields of hay and com have been taken by them. The damage amounts to thousands cf dollars. Frank Jones, while painting, at Perth, lost his balance and fell from the ladder adistance of about thirty-five feet. Hi! head struck the sidewalk, crushing his skull. He died about noon from the injuries. Mrs. James C. Young, of Brandywid| township, Shelby County, lost some cattle; by poison a few weeks ago. Later] strychnine was found in her milk pansJ and the other morning the hired bands found several piles of salt in the field which were mixed with Rough on Rats and powdered glass. Mrs. Yeung some time ago applied for a divorce from her husband and is fearful for the life of herseif^n^cUUdr^U*