St. Joseph County Independent, Volume 22, Number 36, Walkerton, St. Joseph County, 27 March 1897 — Page 2

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CHAPTER XXV. The Dumaresq family was on board a great P. and O. steamer bound for Venice, Mr. Dumaresq and Harold were there only to say good-by; so also was Anne. JBhe had yielded to the Seymours’ solicitations to remain with them until they left 'Alexandria; and they purposed going in the course of the following week. They had taken passages straight to England. This plan suited Anne Carteret better than one which involved a lengthy stay in Italy or Switzerland. She wanted to set tie down to a wholesome, hard-working English life as soon as possible. Als< '♦ht^presaw trouble for the Seymours'or the voyage. Mrs. Seymour grev ■worse instead of better; and the docto Ihad told Anne that he feared lest her ill pness should take a very serious turn ■Some injury to the heart migh ,be apprehended in consequence ol the position of the internal tumor Ifrom which she suffered. If so lit was possible that her life might 'suddenly and speedily be closed. She 'would be spared much pain and weakness hut Anne was sorry to think of Clare ■thus left alone. Denzil Lawrence had totally disappeared: he had gone, no one ' ( knew whither, on the morning after his ■interview with her, leaving a brief pen jelled note to inform his aunt of his de iparture, and to cancel his engagement jwith Clare. A note for Clare was inclos ed. As he was gone Anne felt safe tc at ay. Mr. Dumaresq sat on a bench, exchang ►tag some last words with his wife. The 'crowd of passengers and visitors surge* around them; the children came and went iMichelle, a few steps removed, leaner over the bulwarks and looked toward th< shore. Anne Carteret, shut up in the Hotel dr TEurope with Mrs. Seymour and hei daughter, saw and heard very little ol .political matters. Everything seemed per •fectly tranquil, and Mrs. Seymour was particularly bitter concerning the folly and cowardice of the people who had “nn away directly there was a trifling riot it the town.” At last one day she fainted when she was dressing, and then she yielded tc 'Anne’s urgent request that she would lie ■still. “Well,” she said, “perhaps it is no use 4n fighting any longer. Only, there's one thing, Anne; if I give in now I shall never get up again. I thought I should have been able to go on board next week and get as far as Malta. I have a great objection to being buried in a heathen country. In six months I shall be dead and buried!” She put up her trembling finders to her eyes as if to shut out the light of day. Anne thought she would have wept. But when she took away her hands her eyes were as dry as dust. “But for you, Anne Carteret,” she said harshly, “I should have seen the fulfillment of my dearest hopes before I died.” Anne bore it. She could bear anything, she thought, that this dying woman might say. She had borne so much from her uncle when he lay upon his death bedscoffs and sneers and bitter words. But Mrs. Seymour’s bitter words were harder to bear than even the admiral's had been. “If there is anything I can do for Clare, Mrs. Seymour. I will do it.” “What would you do for her, Anne?" “I would not sacrifice her happiness to mine,” said Anne. “Ah!” said Mrs. Seymour quickly, “if you mean that—it is all I want. I don’t ask you to bind yourself further.” Not a word upon the subject was ever breathed while Clare was in the room. Clare was not to be told yet. Nevertheless, it seemed to Anne as though Clare must be blind not to see what was coming. On the Friday and Saturday of that week Mrs. Seymour slept a great deal, or rather fell into a kind of stupor, from which sho was roused with difficulty. Sunday morning dawned, and she was worse. Anne looked out of her window that morning and noticed the brightness of the scene beneath it. She had been kept in the house for some days and she fancied that the trees in the square looked particularly fresh and green and the groups of gayly clothed Arabs and Nubians around the great tank particularly cheerful. The bells rang out as usual for the various Christian services; the cases were crowded, the flower sellers’ baskets brilliant; the whole place seemed bright, peaceful and calm. Soon after lunch Clare came to her like a piteous child. “Anne,” she said, “I wish you would go to mamma. She looks so white and strange. Do you think she is very ill?” “I fear she is, dear Clare,” said Anne, putting her arm round the girl’s slight figure. Clare burst into tears at once. The idea of danger had not occurred to her before. “Oh, what shall we do?” she cried. “Do send for the doctor! And come and see her yourself at once.” Anne found that, as Clare had said, Mrs. Seymour’s face had a r peculiarly white, drawn look. The stupor into which she had fallen seemed also unusually deep. So Anne sent a note to the doctor and then thought of medicine which .had been ordered when Jhese alarming fits of semi-stupor came on. Owing to some carelessness of Hammond's, the bottle was nearly empty. She hastily threw on her bonnet and cloak, and said she would go herself and get it filled at the chemist's. To send Hammond, or a bowab, would involve unnecessary delay. It struck her, when she left the hotel that some unusual excitement seemed tc prevail amongst the people. She accom plished her errand safely, but. upon leaving the shop, she found that her return was likely to be more difficult. A crowd was gathering; cries and shouts were heard in the distance; she saw men running as if for J; heir very lives. She hail not far to go, and she involuntarily quick ened her steps almost to a run; but when she entered the square she saw a sight which chilled her blood and turned her sick with horror. Here the crowd had surged up, nobody knew from whence; Arabs carrying heavy knobbed sticks formed the chief element

in it. Yells of passion and of rage, followed by terrible cries of agony, broke n upon her ear. What could it mean? Had '• the Arabs risen upon the Europeans? c Strange stories of Mohammedan brutal- ’• ity toward Christians rushed into her mind. * She might well fear. This day was the n eleventh of June, and .the street riots V which had simultaneously broken out in three different places, as though by prer concerted signal, had merged themselves 11 into a cruel fight, and a massacre of the F Europeans. And Anne was in the very S midst of it. io , n CHAPTER XXVI. w A carriage containing two or three Eu}r ropeans was driving along the street. 11- Anne, wedged into a doorway, and unu. able to speak or stir, saw the Arabs stop the horses and throw themselves upon ,f the unfortunate men in the carriage with , r howls of savage joy. The Arabs were , armed with bludgeons; their victims were, t of course, defenseless. Blow after blow e fell; knives gleamed; cries of terror and I- moans of pain began to be heard. Anne j p caught sight of blood streaming down ■ j the face of one European—he seemed to e be a Maltese or an Italian; she saw a g stick uplifted, descending; and then she covered her face. But the terrible blows went on, and so did the cries and moans. t When the crowd swept past, ami a little ■ ( portion of the pavement was clear, she ■ 0 saw a huddled, shapeless mass, which once had been a man. A hand suddenly touched her arm. She ’ had not the strength to cry out, but she , turned upon her assailant a look so des- ’ perate in its defiance, born of deadly fear, that he started back. But it was no as- \ sailant —no Arab, wild with demoniac ex ' ultation; it was an Englishman, a 1 fiend. With a gasping sob of utter relief she P held out her hands to Paul Eastlake. ' "Why are you here? Come quickly. ’ ' he said, with a face which had grown pale at the sight of her. Then he took S hold of her arm, and compelled her to ■' ^move forward. But for his aid she might 11 have remained spellbound by the very U hideousness of the sights and sounds around her. They had not gone two yards before a dying man rose in the pathway, ' displayed a ghastly wound, staggered a * few steps and fell dead at their very feet. A child tied shrieking from its pursuers “ she did not see the end. but Eastlake did. l> and shuddered. She felt the thrill of hor- । r ror run through his whole frame. Phen he grasped her arm more firmly than be I fore, and told her to run for her life. They had almost reached the hotel door ; ■ when they were perceived and followed. ' 1 The fury of the Arabs was not generally \ ' directed against women, and Anne was । t safer than she knew; but Eastlake was in ’ imminent danger. It was a Wonder that i 5 the door opened to receive even Anne; ! ' but almost before she had time to beat nt it with her hands, for she could not find j any other way of knocking, it was opened. 1 and she was drawn inside. Not so Eastlake, however. Sho tried to drag him in | with her, but in vain; he was warding oft i a blow which seemed likely to fall upon I her from the knobbed sticks which the Arabs were using. She fancied she saw ' it 'fall upon his head and shoulder. She cried aloud for help, but the door was shut. She indeed was safe, but he I was left outside to the mercy of the mob; | and neither prayers, tears nor solicitations ‘ 1 had any effect upon the frightened keep j ers of the doors. And at last Anne's en- ; treaties were cut short by an attack of i faintness; and when she came to herself ■ she was stretched upon her own bed up- , ' stairs, and Hammond was sobbing pite I • ously at her side. She staggered to her feet and asked as- ! ' ter Mrs. and Miss Seymour. Mrs. Sey- ! • mour was still insensible; Clare was j : crouching in one corner of the room, cry ' ' ing hysterically. Anne shook off her I ‘ weakness and wont tremblingly to com ; fort her. She found the other English ' ladies who were staying at the hotel col- i t ' lected together in another room. Some ; ' | had ventured to look out of the windows, i i until driven away by the hideous sights 1 outside. One of them had seen a child } - literally torn in twain. And then they ' 3 looked no more. s Outside the house the shout of triumph - rose and swelled and sunk and rose again, a Anne strained hor eyes to see whether by s chance she could discover the figure of - Paul Eastlake among the struggling , groups; but he was nowhere to be seen. And then a sudden sound from Mrs. Sey- ' mour's bed made her look round. The sick woman was sitting up; her eyes were > dilated, her lips parted with apparent I alarm. Anne hurried to hor side. A frightful change was passing over Mrs. , Seymour's countenance. t “Arabs! A massacre? Why are we I here, then? Clare, my child—my child! e let me go to her!" And she actually tried r to got out of bed, she who had been too weak to move a limb an hour before. I o Anne told her of Clare's safety, and lov- ' e ingly detained her, but the poor lady did | not seem to hear. “It is Denzil’s fault! j I, Denzil ought to have taken us away!” I y And then she lifted her voice and called I h aloud: “Denzil! Denzil! Come and save y her. Denzil!” r Clare rushed in at the sound. Iler mothd er suddenly threw her arms up above her f head, uttered a gasping, suffocated cry, e and fell back upon the pillow. In vain e they tried all remedies within their reach; n the last word had been spoken; the last d breath spent in a cry for the safety of her i- child. Mrs. Seymour would no longer be i >, able to fight Clare’s battles and strive for ' her happiness and comfort. The mother J 1. had left her daughter alone at last, o Scarcely had they ceased their offices i- around her lifeless frame when a crash •- of martial music burst upon their astonn ished ears. The soldiers were parading d the square, playing, as was their wont, e Arabic and European music by turns. The i- emeute had suddenly and entirely cold lapsed. .- Early next morning Mr. Dumaresq apn peared at the house to see how Anne had t iared. lie was much shocked on hearing r of Mrs. Seymour’s sudden death, and undertook all arrangements for the funeral, y which would have to take place on that y very day. Late at night a message was t sent round by one of the officials, warning

all English ladles that they had better gal on board the ships then lying in the harbow as soon as possible. There were very few! ladies remaining in Ramleh by this time® but such as were left were packing uyS with some precipitation, and the greateO part of the gentlemen of the place had red solved to leave their houses for the pres# ent to the care of servants, and take uJ, their abode in Alexandria. Mr. Dumarl esq strongly pressed upon his niece th* necessity of leaving Egypt at once. | “You have nothing to detain you now,# he said; “and that poor girl had better gt back to England. Has she nobody to loop after her?” I “There is her cousin—Mr. LawrenceJi ‘‘Ay, yes. Do you know where he is_>s “No.” Mrs. Seymour's funeral took place a» Monday evening. Mr. Dumaresq and oi or two gentlemen attended it; but it vj not thought safe for ladies to go, aj^ Anne was therefore debarred from P lowing to the grave the poor woman wh< * lust days she had tried to soothe. Ch*J bad quite broken down; she was ill euou f to cause serious apprehension: and An was only anxious now to get her on boi ’ ship, away from a place which must ways bo full of painful nssociatisSfr-l both of them. They were fortuni^ enough to secure passages in a vessel tl i would leave on Thursday; and one or ■ , ladies were also going, who promises do everything in their power toward m < ing the voyage easy for Miss Carteret f 1 her friend. 1“ They were to go on board about on Thursday. The steamer would start until the evening, but noon was safest, time for the embarkation, snd for the drive through the town to the Marina, a* at that hour the Arabs were generally fast asleep in the sun. If wanted some I forty-five minutes to the time when the I departure from the hotel was to take place. Mr. Dumaresq was talking to Anne; Clare was lying down to rest before the fatigue of the drive; Hammond was packing. And in the midst of the conversation between uncle and niece, j the door of the sitting room received an । impatient knock, and then burst open to admit Mr. Denzil Lawrence. (To be continued.) ECCENTRIC WILLS. Queer Bequests that H nVc Been Made by Wealthy People. Although an old wheelbarrow is not the most elegant or convenient vehicle in which to take one's rid.^s abroad it doesnot logically follow that because a man nor woman prefers that mode of Im-omotion he or she is mentally im-a-pticiiatml, says the Washington Times. ) et this very conclusion was asked of a I arts court the other day in the case of an old spinster, Mdlle. Borniche. the daughter of an eccentric father. The father had curious ideas on art ami ■ spent considerable sums of money to ! further his notions, lie had no objt'e. । tion to the acedeinic, a toleration daughter does not seem to have .shar^L as site was in the habit of decorating her statues with vine haves, and when ! site could not gs t these sh< would drajM i them with cloth. Mdlle. Borniche left all her fortune i for the founding of a maternity hosi pital and her heirs are contesting the । will, trying to make out that the old , lady was not quite sane. The French | law is in favor of property going to the । heirs of a person S o the will ts likely to | be upset in tavorof t lie contestants. However, rds go to ^how that the : most eccentric wills have been made by ;iers<ms perfectly sane in every relation ■of life. Few persons would question ! the lucidity of Beu Jonson, for instance, yet lie commanded his exoi ir. rs to bury j him upright, so that he might be in I readiness at the day of judgment. Rieh- | ard, the Dauntless, Duke of Normandy, . willed that he should be buried under i the porch of the church at Fecamp, "in i order that he might be trodden upon by i all those who entered the tiered brJjF ng.” Thi< wish was compiled a few years later an ahlmt had the! ' removed to the front of the altar. J ^-b- --' ard’s son. not to be outdone in hum reqm sted to be buried in the conic but umler the gutter-pipe of the ch Ben Jonson's reasons for wishiiT t 0 i be buried upright were slightly d ^ er ‘ : ent from those of Sieur de Chaflet, i who made similar provisions, sayVS: ' T desire to lie buried upright in p l © j of the pillars of the church, so thatfba , s<-um may not march on my stoniqjb.” The arrangements for their ‘Tn# rest" of two famous Dutch paiiprs breathe neither the spirit of hun®>ty nor that of pride, but simply the «rlt of conviviality and brfe of life ■tinguish their fellow worthies of the brush. Shortly before his death, v^ieh took place at Amsterdam in the lli'nning of the eighteenth century, ther ll '?- brated seascape painter, Bakhn^P 11 , purchased several pities of the best procurable, had it bottled and st^ed ami stocked it. After which he plieed in a purse sixty-eight gold pieces. MMen his will was opened the money Izas found to be left to his friends onfthe 1 condition that they should give a digger I on his grave and drink the wine mtil i there was not a drop left of it. | Martin Heemskerk, the second Dutch ■ painter, left his fortune to be divided into so many parts, each part to dd’er annually a maiden of his native vi®ge, on the condition that the weddins®festivitios should take place on his gIiVC. These testators, it is well known, ^ere perfectly sane in body and mind when they made their wills, which, it Will scarcely be gainsaid, were eccentfie; I why should Mdlle. Borniche notjlfty® ' made a sane will in her periods of pc- ! centricity? I Pray for a Sure Thing. A method of educating children in vogue among the I’athans of Peshawur is certainly original. The mothers pjray daily that their children may growl up and be successful thieves. Educajion along this line is considered of second importance to only one thing—phy| Jcal strength. Travelers who have be® ito Peshawur bear witness to the efficacy of this method of educating the yot mg. Some people look happiest when t hey have bad news to tell.

I F" 1 1 Li M Ik a? \ II ia/ I I Ali t II WU r

SCHOOL DRESS REFORM. THE girls of the State Normal School at Cedar Falls, lowa, have adopted a school suit of the dress reform order. It consists of a skirt six inches from the floor, a jacket , <i° Mear over the skirt or fancy waist, ■ leggings for protection in cold or Stormj- weather, ami a plain hat or r ap to match. It is not expected that all will var the same material or color, though dark-blue storm serge or cheviot is recommended as probably most serviceable and appropriate. Individuality may be emphasized in waists, collars and ties, while uniformity of style will prove an advantage Rational underclothing is insisted upon. Extremities are to be warmly dressed, heavy skirls-to be abolished and the weight cf the clothing to be evenly distributed. This may be done in such costume, and yet the whole effect may be perfectly feminine and modest. The length of the skirt is the only point which can | be criticised, and even that, does its 1 wearer possess a bicycle, is unheeded. Why, then, should our girls be condemned for adopting that which has proved itself healthful, becoming, economical and sensible? “That there will be criticism none can doubt,” says The Normalite, a paper published at the school. ‘That the criticism will cease with knowledg > is equally sure. The normal ^liool can ' afford to lead in any movement which > Is for the betterment of the teachers cf the State, and if the fact that teachers and girls here are adopting a w irking sidt which gives freedom an.l Itealth shall encourage our alumnae through- । out the State to do the same, sliall free even one country schoolteacher who plods through dust and mud and snow to her daily work, we can bear the strictures of our friends bravely and take no heed of the others. The nor- \ mal lends the way. Who is to follow?” Two Guests I have in mind a girl who visited her Intended's mother. She was naturally bright and interesting, but was she not thoughtless and s dtish? She was never i up to breakfast in the morning, which necessitated her hostess, who was a very busy woman and did her own work, gettmg an exfni breakfast at half past soroocl ■■ k. She m ver e ca opened s IH . threw back the ' "bffic?o*^Tos. She might have unde h rself useful in many little ways and on- ! deansl herself to tlu* whole family, but ' she ntade no effort to do so. Another girl went to visit an unel-'s I family for a week and was invited to ' remain a month. Site was always ready i to make iters -if useful when 1 ■■■■ s r- j vices were needed, took car l of her i own nvom, was quiet and could eat* r- t tain herself with her embroidety > r a book at any time when her host >s , was occupied, was pro npt at meals, sometimes entenaimsi the little folks with : stories and gate.es. and was umb r all ; cin-unistances an agrc-able a id wel- ; come guest. Farm and Home. Scent Bottle with Silver Tracery. f v ' A Queen’s Hobby. The young queen of Holland has been a passionate collector of postage stamps since she was 8 years of age. Those bearing her own effigy are not wanting in her collection. It is related that late- I ]y her majesty reproached her presi- । dent of file council because the present I Dutch stamps still bore her portrait when she was only 10 years old. “I should like very much, my dear minister, a new series of stamps which will show me to my people just as I am at present,” she is reported to have said. But the Dutch ministers have decided that the new portrait of their queen shall be engraved on certain state papers only on the occasion of her marriage. fklrta with Stiff Lining. Shirred breadths and fiat or box plaits have in a great degree replaced the godet effects at the back of dress skirts. In many instances braiding or a pretty vine passementerie simulating braiding is carried from the skirt hem upward, not only on the front and sides, but frequently, on new Fren. n gowns, at tlie back, taperingas it goes. In nearly every case, notw ithsmmling all that we hear of the absence of stiff interlinings, the back and sides of these skirts are thoroughly well set ov.L from the figure, and not a few of the "owns are so arranged that 1- rench dressmakers call them “standing gowns," and certainly some of the m derately spreading, elaborately trimmed models,would not be improved by a sitting position of its wearer. 1 There are very many women who never wear their walking costumes in the house any more than they would don their robes of ceremony for Jie promenade—a wise rule—but a gown in

xr y which one cannot comfortably sit is rather a trial, and the knowledge that ae apearance of one's dress is spoiled J this decidedly restful position is durt” 1001 ^’ 0 ,0 th'nk oi ’ alone en- „ Cure for Insomnia, ate are several theories of the propci position in sleep. The one most commonly favored is that one should sleep I on the right side, as digestion goes on | in this position most favorably. Other I authorities say that one should always lie on the back, but there are excellent reasons why this is not wise. The u eight of the stomach rests upon the spine, which often affects the nerves. ome severe cases of insomnia have been cured by the habit of sleeping on tio face. I his is easy to do and is the most comfortable position if one dispenses with the pillow. One young man who had exhausted all the skill of the doctors fell into the habit of lying on his face, w ith ids right, arm under his head, which was turned slightly to one side. By this change natural rest soon came to him and he entirely recovered. The Girl in the Home. Oh,, it's tie a cravat, make a band for a hat. It's go and beg father tor this thing and that. Help out on hard sums, soothe the hurts, cure the stings—- ! rakes a fellow's sister to do all such things. And she can s<- tree stay with a friend over night । But something is gone of the home's cheer and light Quick step, ready hand, merry voice, life and whirl. Then says father to mother, “Think of home with no girl!" Lace Blouses. Blouse wa.sts of lace traced around ' the pattern with mock jewels are very I much worn with the velvet bolero jackets. A pretty model for any sort of silk waist is slashed above the belt to show the Jaco waist underneath; velvet reters finish the front, and velvet ribbon trims the epaulet frills. Black and white plaid silk, with velvet mousseline de soie frills, edged with black velvet ribbon in the narrowest width. Is a novel con.bination very much admired, ami the tucked chiffon waist trimmed with lace frill is always pretty for young griis. f-imp'c Headache Cure. Severe headache may be removed by spirits of ammonia. It should be carefully used, as the constant use of salts, ammonia, and other strong scents injures and inflame* the iu.se. Whaling on Horsi'back. At ('ape t od, Newfoundland, whaling on horseback is a popular and ex- ' citing game, in which the boys are allowed to join. A more novel and thrilling si । tie than when the sport is at its height can hardly be pictured. The whales are enticed in some way inside ■ of the bar by men in boats, and tvhen ' tile tide goes out they are left at the mercy of the whalers on horseback, in a stretch of water forming a little inclosed lake some three to four feet । deep. The bay is comparatively smooth, > and in it the creatures flounder and rust, about, lashing the water into foam as‘bey are followed by the horsemen. lln i«r ges become as excited as their riders. w ii<>,^nued with harpoons, lances, boathooks or ni; T Q[per weapon, endeavor to capture as n„ ny the monsters as possible, the t eC p up an incessant yelling and splashiu s , ( gradually forcing the monsters up a narrow creek. The whales seem to know they are running into a trap, for they make great efforts to break through the line of horses. Occasionally a wounded creature lifts a horse out of the water with a tremendous sweep of its tail, and the rider is thrown sprawling into the water, to the groat amusement of the onlookers. This hunt is kept up until all the animals are driven upon the shoal and dispatched. How Appointment? Are Made. Ex-President Harrison, in an article : on “A Day with the President a.t His I Desk," in the Ladies’ Home Journal, i gives the method by which appoint- , merits to public office are made by the j । President. “One of the Cabinet officers,” he writes, "appears by appoint- ■ ment, accompanied by a messenger ' with an armload a basketful of papers—chiefly made up of petitions and letters relating to appointments. Each case has been briefed and jacketed, and one by one they are presented, the Secretary adding such information as he has, outside the papers. The conclusions reached are noted—to appoint a particular person, or to prosecute a further inquiry. The Postmaster General brings a large clothes basketful of papers, and an adjournment to the long Cabinet table is necessary in order to display them. He takes up the papers relating to a postoffice and briefly states the case. If the ease is decided he fills in the blank on the jacket. ‘Appoint ■ ——,’ the President affixes his initials, and the package is thrown lack into the basket. A whole afternoon is often consumed in this way.” For 100 Wide-Awake Ones. Persons who suffer from sleeplessness may try various simple remedies with more or less success, unless their ' insomnia be due to such a deranged condition of the nerves as possibly requires a doctor's care. Warmth Is an admirable aid to drowsiness, and a glass of boiling milk or hot lemonade 1 or cocoa makes an excellent bedtime j drink. > Every man has a lot of stuff he can’t i sell.

BLOWS UP ON THE RAIL; Boiler of the Locomotive of the Lake Shore Limited Explodes. With a terrific crash that shook the «arth for blocks around, the monster locomotive at the head of the Lake Shore and Michigan Southern passenger train known as the Chicago and Boston special exploded as it was leaving Chicago on its journey eastward. Two lives were lost in the explosion. Engineer Frank was hurled, with the top of the cab, high in the air. The force of the drive sent the man’s body through the skein of telegraph wires as though they had been cobwebs. Ihe body fell, with the piece of shattered cab, fully 300 feet from the tracks, in a vacant lot that was half swamp. Fire- , man Smith was caught under the escapI ing steam, which poured out of the boiler with such force that that it drove the ten dcr back against the baggage cars. He was found bruised and torn and scalded. The death of both men is supposed to have been instantaneous. Ihe driving wheels of the engine were torn from their forged-steel axles. The steam-chest was gone. The valves and pipes were torn and twisted. Massive plates were driven into the stone ballast of the roadbed. The reversing lever, a solid steel piece four feet long, was thrown nearly a quarter of a mile and cut through the roof of George Brock’s house, 6874 Calumet avenue, cleaving through shingles, lath and plaster, and falling at the foot of a bed. A plate of iron weighing fifty pounds wrecked the board fence in Mr. Brock's back yard. In the coaches of the train there was felt a tremor and then the brakes, acting automatically, ground on the wheels. There was a muffled roar. The first three cars were jarred from the track, and for nearly 300 feet pounded over the ties, pushing before them the wrecked locomotive. The passengers were not aware of what was going on. The train crew rushed out of the vestibuled platforms and saw the cloud of steam into which they were being carried. Then hail of broken metal began to fall on the track and coaches. Soon all was excitement in the train. Nobody can tell what caused the explosion. The company officials had no the- ' ones to offer in explanation of the wreck | of one of the newest engines on the road. FIRST LADY IN SOCIETY. Mr s . Saxton, Who Will probably Take Mrs. McKlnlcy'sPlace. Mrs. Maria Saxton, on whom, it is believed. will devolve the chief social duties of the White House in the McKinley regime, is the aunt of the President's wife. Mrs. McKinley, owing to her delicate health, will not be able to attend to all of the obligations that fall to the lot MRS. MARIA SAXTOX. of the mistress of the executive mansion. Mrs. Saxton will reside with the McKinleys at the White House and will in all probability not only take the head of the line in state affairs, but will also find it necessary to look after the details of the household —a task which Mrs. McKinley will hardly be able to perform. Mrs. Saxton is an accomplished woman, used to the ways of society, and may be confidently relied upon by her niece to play the part of hostess with ail t>he correctness the eminent position calls for. IDAHO'S GERMAN SENATOR. Hen., Meitfeldt, Who Succeeds the Brilliant Dubois. The senatoAal election in the Rocky Mountain States which attracted most attention was that in Idaho, where Senator Fred Dubois was battling for a reelection. Dubois was one of the Republicans who, espousing the silver cause, bolted the convention wiiich nominated McKinley for President and was one of SEXATOR HEITFELDT. the most eloquent and persistent workers in Bryan’s behalf. As a reward the Dem--1 ocrats and Populists were expected to re- ; turn him to the Senate, but failed. After a deadlock of several weeks State Senator Henry Heitfeldt was chosen to the upper ' house of Congress. Heitfeldt is a Populist. He was born in Germany and came to this country as a young man. The accent of the Fatherland clings to his tongue. He is a prosi perous farmer and has proven a clever ! politician. John Austin Stevens, the original ; founder of the Society of the Sons of I the Revolution, is now living in Newport, and on Washington’s birthday, when the Rhode Island Sons of the Revolution held their first celebration, he delivered the principal address. In Paris work is about to commence in preparation for the world's exhibition in 1900. The city of Paris advertised recently for bids for the work of clearing the grounds for the erection of I the buildings for the exhibition.