St. Joseph County Independent, Volume 22, Number 37, Walkerton, St. Joseph County, 3 April 1897 — Page 6

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CHAPTER XXV'II. Mr. Dumaresq uttered an exclamation of astonishment and relief. Now Miss Seymour would be off his hands. But Anne's heart misgave her. This sudden reappearance boded nothing good. He had a jaded and harassed appearance, and gave a very confused account of his absence. He had been to the Lebanon. to Beyroot, to Suez, to Rosetta. Wherever he had been, the news of the outbreak at Alexandria had greatly disturbed him: he had hastened back immediately, and was now shocked beyond measure to learn that his aunt was dead. He wanted to know what his Cousin Clare was going to do. At this question Anne lifted her head, and looked him in the face so gravely and searchmgly that he suddenly faltered and heid his tongue. Then she rose anil went out of the room, leaving him to settle business matters with Mr. Dumaresq. The upshot of this interview \ as that Mr. Dumaresq presently came out into the corridor, knocked at Anne's door and said: “I should like a word or two with you. my dear.” Anne came out at once. “Anne, the engagement is broken off between Air. Lawrence and Miss Seymour. He wrote to Mrs. Seymour and to Miss Seymour about it, and received no answer. He, therefore, considers himself free.” Anne thought for a moment, then decided rapidly. ‘‘Keep him there a minute. please, uncle, and I will come.” She went into her own room, dressed rapidly for her departure, gave one or two instructions to Hammond and spoke a few words to Clare. “Dear Clare, don't come into the sitting room unless I send for you,” she said. “Then is a gentleman with me on business. You can go down to the carriage when it comes. We have only ten minutes now.” Ten minutes! And in those ten minutes the future course of three lives was decided. She entered the room in which Lawrence was standing with a look ;of such complete self-possession that he felt his own calmness fail him. There was a great apparent contrast between them at that moment. She looked pale but tranquil: dignified and yet very gentle. Her beautiful eyes were reddened by loss of sleep, and perhaps by weeping: but they ■ were full of a great determination, and j calm as the waters of a mountain lake, i Lawrence, on the contrary, was agitated and nervous. His Hushed and haggard face twitched with emotion as he first glanced at her, and then let his eyes sink to tin < arth. “Mr. Lawrence,” she said. “I have wished ever since Sunday that 1 could see you for a few minutes. Mrs. Seymour left no exact message for you, but she told me a certain fact which you ought to know. You wrote a letter to her. inclosing one to your cousin, when you left Alexandria.” “Yes.” said Lawrence, looking at her without lifting his head. “What then?" “I have to tell you—she never gave dare the letter.” Here Anne's voice shook, and she waited for Lawrence to speak; but as he only started and turned silently aside, she soon went on again with her speech. “She thought it better that dare should not know, and therefore. Mr. Lawrence —I must tell you this —Clare has no knowledge of your feelings. and thinks that you—you —that she is still engaged to you. And at this moment, Mr. Lawrence, neither you nor I must tell her that you wish that engagement dissolved.” “Why not?” said Lawrence, sharply. “Because she cannot bear another shock. Her mind would suffer. 1 am afraid her brain would give way completely.” He looked at her with sarcasm on his lips. “Do you mean that my cousin has become an idiot, Miss Cartaret?” “How can you say such things?” said Anne, recoiling. "Think what she has had to suffer. Her mother dying so suddenly, the horrors of Sunday—your absence —you know that she is very delicate. It would be sheer cruelty to make her Buffer any new sorrow. Even if you want to part from her, you must defer that parting until she is able to bear it. You will —if you are a man!” Her tone became almost passionate in its indignation ss she went on. “And what else do you propose?” Lawrence asked. His eyes looked dark and threatening under his bent black brows. ■“You know her friendlessness as well as I do,” said Anne, in a low voice. “Her future depends on you.” There was a short silence. The two I eyed each other like combatants preparing for battle. Lawrence wheeled round and looked out of the window for a few minutes. Then he uttered a short sigh, very audible in the stillness, and turned back to Anne with a curiously changed voice and manner. “We are wasting precious time.” he said, softly. “I know what you want. It is iik< yourself to ask it. But. dearest—forgive me, if I call you so—l have a better plan. You want me to marry (.'hire becaus I promised to do so, and because she is poor and friendless. She shall never t e poor, Anne; I will take care of that. She shall have my whole fortune if yon require it. You have given away yours you shall see me emulate you, dear. She shall not be friendless, either—as long as you and I live to be her friends. But you are wrong to insist on my marrying her: there is nothing so cruel as a loveless n.arriage. or one where the love is all on on< side. Ami you must know by this time. Amie, that Clare’s disposition will not imiine her to grieve over my faithlessness very long. Let us take the better way. Together we can shield her, protect her. make her happitr than any marriage with me would make her. We might all three be happy. Do you mean to make all three miserable for life?” “It would be wrong,” said Anne, quietkg. “No, dear, it would be right, even ir your eyes, if you would be just. I onlj ask for justice now. We love each other Why should we put ourselves to fruit less pain? If by leaving me you couh make me love Clare, there might be som

reason in our separation. But what use will it be? Make me happy—here—now; and we shall both make her happy. I cannot consent to sacrifice you and your happiness to hers, my dearest.” He had touched a string which had vibrated beneath other hands than his. "No." she said sadly, but resolutely. “I cannot purchase my happiness at the price of hers, Denzil. We must set happiness on one side; we have forfeited it by our own acts. Let us do what is right. There is no other happiness for me. I cannot — I dare not —do a willful wrong to Clare.” “Right—wrong!" he exclaimed fiercely. > “What do those words mean? Only that you are not brave enough to risk any- , thing for my sake. What would I not do I for yon? And yon will do nothing for i me—nothing!” "Nothing wrong," she murmured, with drooping head. She dared not meet his He camo close to her, and took her un- . resisting hands in his. “It would be so easy, dear," he said. "I have asked some questions—l know exactly what to do. । Instead of going with Clare to-day we can I bo married at once, and then go by the ' ' next steamer to Venice or Beyroot, or . anywhere you like. Clare can be put un- । dor the care of Mrs. Hammer, who is go- , ing to England. She will be quite safe. M e shall follow her to England, and look ! alter her there. That plan will solve all ' difficulties. It is the best plan for evory- ■ body, dear. And, oh, Anne, you could not Heave me alone now; we could not part. I i What would our lives be without each , I other? I cannot give you up.” Ho drew her to him, and for one moment her head rested on his shoulder. She was so weary of the struggle; she loved him so dearly; it would be an unspeakable relief to end the strife with a ; single word, to place her hand in his, and I promise to be his wife. His heart beat I violently. Ho thought that he had gained I the victory after all. Gently enough she disengaged herself ■ from his clasp, and looked up at him with ‘ a glance which might have told him a ' very different story. It was a glance full I of tenderness, indeed, but full of a hidden I strength. “Forgive me. Denzil,” she said, tremu- ! lously. "I love you more than all the ; world, but I will not make a willful choice Jof wrong-doing, even -even—-for your j sake.” “Anne,” he cried, passionately, “you i cannot leave me thus!" “I must.” And then her lips grow ; white. "For the last time, Denzil." she ; said, softly, and lifting her face a little. I she kissed him on the cheek. CHAPTER XXVHI. ' Lawrence was sick at heart, listless, i languid, and the chance of excitement as ! forded by the present stale of the city I was perhaps the reason why he stayed. I At times he worked himself into a passion jof feverish rage against Anne, against Clare, against himself. Life seemed unbearable to him if it did not bring him the thing on which he had set his heart. At such hours he would wander about the streets, courting danger rather than avoiding it, fiercely anxious to revenge himself on Anne for the injury that she was doing him by the commission of some deed that would make her repent it. How could she have the heart, he thought to himself, to deny the only thing for which he cared? Cruel, cold-hearted, fickle —these epithets were on his lips continually when he thought of her, and yet he knew they were in no wise true. But they made his own conduct seem less base to himself. Was it his fault? Anne had done it all. And then, again, ho remembered with an agony of shame that he had been false and treacherous: that he had lied to her and to others; that he could not venture to ask her to trust him again: and ho writhed in these memories. When he was with high-minded, generous men like Eastlake and Mr Dumaresq, he would sometimes imagine the look of scorn with which they would decline his acquaintance if they knew how he had treated Anne. And withal he felt a keen pang that Eastlake was far more fit to win Anne's love than ever he had been, and he watched keenly for an indication that Anne was relenting toward her old lover, or that he was in communication with her. He had no idea that Eastlake was engaged to Michelle. The engagement had been kept a profound secret, on account of Michelle’s youth. He fancied that Eastlake was as ready and anxious to win Anne Carteret’s love as he had ever been. Perhaps this was the thought that I detained him in Alexandria as long as ' Eastlake remained there too. He had written to Anne. He had written her a wild, mad letter which he had taken pains should reach her upon her arrival in England. She had left Egypt on the loth of June; she would arrive there by the end of the month. He had begged her to write—if only a word—while he was still at. Alexandria. One word, he said, would bring him to her side. She could not mean to sacrifice him forever? He had done wrong—well, he would suffer any penalty she liked to infliet- but one. He could not—he would not—live, separated from her. Meanwhile . events went on apace. The condition of the town grew worse and worse. The . Europeans had mostly left; the Arabs ; were starving and sullen. The stately t ships of all nations crowded the harbor > and dotted the blue water outside. The - deliberations of the ctgiference dragged I on from day to day. The Arabs began to h assume an insulting tone to the few Eng--1 lish who remained. The fortifications at - Mex were strengthened and repaired in - full view of the English ships, and in - sullen defiance of English authority. The - admiral intimated very decidedly that e these fortifications must be abandoned, n or he should be compelled to bombard them. But Arabi and his troops seemed undismayed. On the 10th of July, the admiral gave notice that he would comn mence action twenty-four hours later, y “unless the forts on the isthmus and r. those commanding the harbor were temt- porarily surrendered for the purpose of Id being disarmed.” te It was on the 10th that all British sub-

jects were ordered to be on board bv noon ol the next day. Very few Euglishme: remained on shore, and those few meant to embark early in rhe morning. A numerous colony of Italians and Greeks, low- 1 e\er, who preferred to run any EsKra;h<o l than abandon their property to the mercyj of (he mob. remained on shore, and birr' ’’’T houses. Five thousand'.' „t least, ot these people refused to quit the town. A tew Englishmen who had stayed until the last moment went on board e 1 anjore, the refuge ship which had t.ikcn up a position in the outer harbor On Sunday, the 9th of July. Harold Dum.nesq. scouring the town for something that he wanted before his final retreat to “lie ot the men-of-war, suddenly came neross Denzil Lawrence, and stopped shott with a start of surprise. “1 say, Lawrence, is that you? Why arent you on board?” "I don t know,” said Lawrence, vague* ly. “Plenty of time yet.” "You'd better make haste,” said Harold. “You’ve got your things on board the Tanjore, haven't you?” "No.” Then, waking up a little to Harold's looks of concern and amazement, he, said, with a half laugh, “I am thinking of staying on shore.” “Why, the town's to bo bombarded to* morrow or next day!” Harold exclaimedjl “1 don’t suppose it will ever come to :j bombardment,” said Lawrence. “Th® Arabs will give in before Tuesday mort®, ing.” “Indeed they won't. We shall see somer sharp work yet.” (T “Besides, every one says that the forts! can be silenced in fifteen minutes." “As soon as they are silenced, the Arabs will up and massacre the lot of you. You j must come on board.” "I’ll see about it,” said Lawrence, idly. He stood leaning with his back against a wall, his eyes fixed on the ground, ab-sent-minded, melancholy and impracticable. Harold watched him impatiently, then was struck by a new idea. “I had nearly forgotten!" he said, hastily, with a quick change of countenance. “1 had a letter from Anne my cousin. Miss Carteret, I mean two days ago, and there was an inclosure for you.” “For me!” Lawrence was instantly erect, with flashing eyes and eager face. He held out bis hand, while Harold fumbled in his pockets, produced a pile of letters, and finally handed him a little packet. Lawrence almost snatched it from him, turned aside and tore it open. His face was like that of a man dying of hunger, for whom a meal is unexpectedly provided. Harold watched, in spite of himself, with boyish curiosity. He saw Lawrence glance at the inclosure. turn crimson, then white ns a sheet, and crush the paper convulsively in his hand. He then turned on Harold a look s<> full of rage and hate and utter despair that the young man involuntarily drew back alarmed. Anne had sent him back his own letter without a word. (To be continued.) INROADS OF THE LOBBY. Dangerous Element Which Threatens All LcnKlative W o. k. A reckless lobby is not more danger^ otis than a practice which has griywuA up in most of the State Legislature^’ ami that is not entirely absent from rhei National Legislature, that of introduce ing bills with m> other thought than' that they will make a demand for active ope rations on the part of a well A paid lobby. £ One of ■he s’.r Jest, best infoiinmlr correspondents reporting legislative ’ proceedings at Madison. Wis.. makes’ the broad, unequivocal assertion that a large per cent, of the bills introduced on the last day for receiving new business were presented solely for rhe purpose of furnishing paying jolts for a large number of men who are recognized as professional lobbyists. The lobby evil lias became so pronounced in some States that not only needed legislation is defeated but ordinarily good men who have been elected to serve the people have been corrupted, sent home with reputations blackened and prospects blighted; men who are not intentionally Md, but who are not strong enough to withstand the pressure of concentrated effort on the part of a disciplined ami thoroughly drilled lobby. The schemes that are resorted to by lobbyists and their pliable friends in the Senate ami Assembly to present measures that ought not to be received, ami then to stir up strife that will make business ami money for a lobby and trouble for all others concerned, are appalling in number and character. Legislatures can pass laws to protect sheepfolds from the inroads of wolves, deer from the craft ami the dogs of the hunter, fishes and fowls of the air from the nets of gamesters, but they do not seem to have the power to protect, themselves from the worse than rav-_ ages of lobbies that seem never to,have" 1 too many jobs on hand and too 'WRB' money flowing into their pockets. Strange, isn't it? As a matter of fact, probably the only certain way to stop horse play in Legislatures is to construct Legislatures of material that cannot be hoodwinked, that is honest, unselfish to a degree that would never permit it to lose sight of public good private greed; material that "would freeze to the very core the most persistent, selfish, grasping, tricky lobbyist that might presume to attempt to ply his trade.— Chicago Times-Herald. Greece Is Advancing. Even in the beginning of the present century the Greek ladies whom Byron admired were obliged to walk veiled, after Asiatic fashion, through the streets of Athens, and they were not allowed their due share in the intellectual culture of the renascent Hellas. It is intersting to learn that a few days ago two young Athenian ladies, the sisters Angelica and Alexandra Pauagiotatos, passed their medical examination with brilliant success, and each reeeived her diploma as doctor. The elder Is aged 22, the younger 20. They are natives of Corfu, where they made their first studies, continuing them later in the French school at Athens. They matriculated afterward at the University of Atbens. i

WHEAT YIELI)FOR^96 tl ( VORLD'S PRODUCTION IS THE SMALLEST IN SIX YEARS. Official Estimate Places the Total nt 2,428,393,000 Bn ß h c l 9 -Stati B tics of the Secretary of Agriculture Prepared—Corn Crop Ilreaks Kecorda Official Report Given. According to a report issued by the Secretary of Agriculture, the world's wheat crop lor ism; is 2,42N,393,000 bushels. It us the Sina lest wheat crop in six years. Although the total wheat yield is 115,000,. 009 bushels less than in 1895, it is lareer than earlier estimates indicated. This is largely due to an increase of 59,(X)0,(M)0 bushels in European Russia, as shown in the imal estimates of the central statistical bureau over the November estimate ot the minister of agriculture of that country. I he report prepared by the Agricultural Department is particularly interesting because it gives tile product by countries and । continents not only in IS9G but in ea< h I, year back to mid ineludiim 18111. This j makes a valuable table for dealers who t desire to compare the yields year by year. I While these figures by countries are not Lgiven here, it is possible in brief space to I give the recapitulation by continents for I these years, ami that follows: I' 1891. 1892. North America .. 659.415,00 ff 579,050,000 " South America ... 52.805.000 55,782,000 ; Europe 1,201.732,000 1.410,588,000 Asia 407,358,000 358,948,000 Africa 17.137.0iM) 39,731,000 Australasia 33,875,000 37,090.000 Total 2,432.322,000 2,481,805,000 1593. 1894. North America .. 453.752.000 522,850.000 South America .. 5i.703,000 104,915,000 Europe 1,514,298,(MM) 1,521,021),000 Asia 432.351.ihmi 429,702,000 Africa 38,288.<mmi 54,795,000 Australasia 42.455,<M)0 43,360,000 Total 2,562.913,000 2,676,651,000 1595. 1596. North America .. 535.563.00:) 476,493,0 X) South America . . ss.immi.ihhi GO.IMMI.imh) Europe 1.437,050,1 MM) 1,482,197.000 Asia 404.575.iMi0 339.397JH10 Africa 4s.sl2.ihhi 3S.4tH>.iHiO Australasia 32.461.000 25,906,000 Total 2.546,404,000 2,428,393,000 Smallest in Six Years. It will thus be seen that the crop for IS9G is the smallest for six years. The figures given by the Agr’u ulturnl Department in these tables are official, either preliminary or final, wherever available. In some important wheat growing countries, however, official returns of wheat product ion are mo made; in such eases commercial estimates have been used. A table is given showing the disposal of the wheat crop of the I nited States for IS9G. After some explanation regarding the reports of suppl.v ami distribution of whi'at received by the ilepartment the following figures are given: Reserve in Ahuvb. 1^97 - Bushels. In farmers' hands March, 1597... ss ihhi.ooo in mills, etc., M..reli. 1^97 h.oihiiioo Visible stock. March. 1897 41,‘hmi.ihhi Aggreaate reserve. March. ’97.173,iMhi.(m» Spring mi l whiter .l o lliijr, . so.ooojhhi F,»od eonsnniptlon, lvi:;i7,. 3|o,ih>o.<HHi Export s, f s:»; uy i m ixhi.ihhi i In this < iiipmation the amount needed ] । for seed is eaieuhited at one and two--1 fifths bushels p acre ami the food coami m; third imsm per in p. r capita. The svopiy ~f f 7:;.mHl.<H><) Ims' . Is will have to meet, before the crop of I'' , j7 I eoim--- :■> r.' . ii' ■ Toe it alio,!t the beginn;i ; . Los July, cioc’i's of ab .it 17.'Min/ >■ > I bushels for sp dm.■ ;.ml b' I.imhh F bushels lor four months’ food cousmnp lion, at the rates above v-ci. It is quite likely, owing to the increase in the cost of wheat ami the further decrease in that of corn, that the rate of wheat uvmmmption per capita may be still father reduced tins - nson. but. taking these amounts as they staml. the country is left with a supply of 52.imm.iiihi bushels for export ami for balance to be curried over. The exports for March to June, inclusive, were last year less than .”(>,(•()(i,(M>(> bushels, ami they were for the first nine weeks of the present year, not withstanding the higher price, SiK),(XHI bushels per week less than for the corresponding weeks of last year. If the same difference holds till July.the exports for the four months will be 2”JMMi.ixhi. and the stocks remaining on farms, in mills and "visible” will be but 25.<)00.U(Ml bushels, an exceptionally slender balance. Enormous Production of Corn. The corn crop of IS9G in the United States, at cording to this report, exceeded by more than G per cent that of 1895, the largest ever before obtained, in spite of a generally reduced acreage ami of a partial failure of the crop in the South, where scarcely a State raised more than enough corn for its own consumption, Texas being the sorest sufferer. The great increases were in the great corn States. The quality of this crop, however, does not correspond to its quantity, for but 54.8 per cent is this year merchantable, against ISS.I per cent last year. The farm value is unprecedentedly low. * ’he average price of the 1,93G,20G,U00 •Jbttshels of merchantable corn is but 20. S ■f'ents, against 25. G cents last year (the lowest previous figures), giving a total value of $492,98(1,000, while the unmerchantable. 347.(319.(MM)‘bushels, at a price of 13.3 cents, against 15.4 cents for 255,433,(MX) bushels last year, is worth in all $46,290,000. The entire crop comes to $449.27G,0(H). a figure less by $41,731,000 than that reported in December. Regarding oats the report says that the crop of 1896 was generally poor, both in quantity ami quality, ami the weight per bushel (28.6 pounds on the average) was low. Only throe or four States, mostly northwestern, report a good crop. Mrs. Henry E. Abbey now has handsome apartments in one of the most exclusive neighborhoods of London, where she is keeping house in magnificent style. The report in London is that she is slutrfly to be married to a wealthy ami very prominent member of London’s ultra swell set. The bill to regulate emigration from Germany was referred to a special commission after some discussion by the Reichstag at Berlin. Dr. Barth, in speaking of the Government’s motives for the bill, held it to be impossible for the Government to direct the stream of emigration at will, and a wrong assumption that emigration should be led away from the United States. Col. L. C. Baker, superintendent of the Western Union Telegraph Company at St Louis, is dead. i

*—rTninmii miiiiimii mm minm “OLIVER OPTIC” PASSES AWAY Death of William T. Adams, Writer of Juvenile Stories, at Boston. M illiam T. Adams ("Oliver ()ptie”) died Saturday at his home in Boston. He has been very ill ever since he returned from a voyage to Jamaica, about a month ago. Mr. Adams was 75 years old, and lor half a century almost he has written stories lor boys. He was possessed of a considerable fortune, all of which he earn *d with his busy pen. It is said that mow than 1,900,000 copies of his boys’ stories have been sold. Mr. Adams' success began with the first book he published. He began t ) write i! 7 WILLIAM T. ADAMS. boy stories in 1863, and almost up to the day of his death there was scarcely a day that he was not engaged in mapping out tales of adventure or writing them. His first story was “Hatchie, the Guardian Slave; or, The Heiress of Bellevue.” His stories described the life of the boy out of doors, in the woods, fields, under the open sky, on the river or elsewhere out in the air. Prior to his taking up story writing he was an editor, ami he was the founder and editor of Oliver Optic’s Magazine for Boysand Girls. In 1846 he married Miss Sarah Jenkins, who died in 1885. Mr. Adams’ daughter is the wife of Sol Smith Russell, the actor. GOES TO SAMOA. William L. Chambers, New Chief Justice of the Islands. AVilliam L. Chambers, the new chief justice of the Samoan Islands, appointed to that place by the United States. England and Germany, is a native of Georgia and a former law partner of ex Secretary of the Navy Herbert. Mr. Chambers left Georgia and settled in Alabama in the practice of law when a very young man. He lived in Alabama until his appointment as Samoan commissioner four years ago by President Cleveland. His appointment is not a matter of political intlueliee, but follows upon his worthy and I'tlicient service as commissioner. When Mr. (’hambers arrived in the islands four years ago he found affairs in an almost hopeless tangle. H ■ promptly set to work I ' 7 WILLIAM L. CHAMBERS. Io bring order out of chaos, ami he accomplished his task so well that when he returned to the United States, England and Germany sent formal notices of their appreciation of his services to the State Department. Mr. Chambers was induced to return to the islands as commissioner. When a vacancy occurred in the post of chief justice President Cleveland promptly named the talented Southern lawyer for the position, and this appointment was readily confirmed by England and Germany. While serving as commissioner in Samoa Mr. Chambers became intimately acquainted with Robert Louis Stevenson. PICKS UP SIXTEEN SURVIVORS. Rescue of Part of the Crew of the Unfortunate St. Nazaire. News comes that the British steamship Yanariva, Captain Weston, which left Newport News on March 10, bound for Glasgow, arrived at Greenock, Scotland, Sunday night. The captain reports that on March 12, while in latitude 31. longitude 71. he picked up a small boat containing sixteen survivors of the steamship Ville de St. Nazaire. They had been without food and water for four days, and were in a state of extreme exhaustion and were bordering on madness. The officers and men of the Yanariva did all in their power for the unhappy victims of an ocean horror, and finally learned their pitiful story piece by piece. They say that four boats were launched, two containing twenty-nine each, the third seventeen and the fourth six. The boat picked up by the Yanariva was one of the two that took off twenty-nine, but thirteen of these succumbed to exposure, hunger and thirst. The last the survivors saw of the other boats was on the day the vessel foundered, when they sighted two of them lashed together and empty. For some time after the rescue the captain of the Yanariva kept an officer at the masthead, sweeping the horizon with a glass in the hope of getting some trace of the other boats, but there was no sign of them. An attempt was made to blow up the property at the corner of Ninth and alnut streets, St. Louis. A negro child, who thought someone was burning matches, frustrated the fiend. Had she not discovered the blaze when she did there would have been a terrible explosion. which would have wrecked the building, a long, three-story structure. The 300 strikers of the Enterprise silk mill at Paterson, N, J„ who went out ior an increase of wages of 30 iht cent, returned to work. The old scale of wages tor which they struck will be paid them.

VICTORY FOR GREEKS CRETANS ROUT TURKS AND DESTROY A FORT. Christians Assault the Stronghold with Dynamite—Sloslems Saved from Annihilation by Foreign Admirals— Britain Bolts the Blockade Planned. Fort at Malaxa Falls. Thursday evening the blockhouse or fort at Malaxa, just outside of Suda, was blown up with dynamite by the Greek insurgents. Ihe whole structure was soon in flames and the T urkish warships began a bombardment of the insurgents. Thw fleet fired ninety shells upon the insurgents around Malaxa, and some of these fell inside the blockhouse. Os the Turkish garrison, numbering sixty-four, one escaped to Nerokhuri and eighteen others to Suda. It is believed the others perished. During the night, the insurgent forces were pushed forward until they occupied convenient positions for attack, and about 6 a. m. the artillery opened fire upon the I urkish blockhouse. The pieces of the ( hristians were served with such admirable promptness and precision that in a short time nothing remained to the Turks but extermination or evacuation. The Mussulmans, preferring the latter, left the tort and commenced a retreat on Suda, relying upon the Turkish warships in the bay to save them from the Christians. The sultan's fleet opened a badly aimed fire upon the insurgents in order to cover the retreat from the blockhouse. The shells fell either short of or far beyond the insurgent forces. The Christians pushed forward steadily, pressing hard upon the rear of the Turks and keeping up a continual skirmish fire. The Turks made a stand now and then, pouring a few volleys in the direction of the insurgent skirmish lines. M bile this fighting was in progress a detachment of Turkish troops, being unaware of the fact that the garrison at Malaxa had evacuated that place and was retreating upon Suda, closely pursued by the Christians, made a sortie from Canea with a convoy of provisions intended for the garrison of Malaxa. From the route followed by the Turks nothing could be seen of the fighting in progress between Malaxa and Suda and the Ottoman troops advanced half way up to the heights upon which the blockhouse of Keratidi is situated. Turks Were Trapped. But while the Turks were unaware of the insurgents’ doings the latter had closely followed the movements of the Turkish column escorting the provision and ammunition train. Near Keratidi the Turks were met bj' a body of insurgents, who, irom well selected positions, opened a fierce fire upon the advancing troops. The fire of the Christians stopped the advance of the column and the Turkish commander took up the best position possible in order to protect the convoy and send it to the roar if necessary. Desperate fighting continued between the Turks and the Christians in and about Isikalaria, not far from Suda, to which point the insurgi uts succeeded in pushing forward while in pursuit of the retreating : earrison of Malaxa. The insurgents i burned several more houses of Tsikalaria, whereupon the warships of the foreign powers began firing at the Christians. The bombardment, however, only lasted ten minutes. The Turkish garrison at Malaxa lost heavily during the retreat from that phtce. The insurgents are numerous and occupy all the heights in the vicinity of Canea as far as Parivolia, having captured the two last Turkish fortresses. Only the fleets of the powers prevent the entire success of the insurgent cause. The news of the dynamiting of the Malaxa blockhouse as the culmination of a day of fierce fighting and a prolonged siege made a tremendous sensation in Athens. It is regarded as an event of far-reaching importance, both in its effect upon the insurgents themselves and upon the Greek mind at this stage of the crisis. Great Britain has bolted the blockade planned by the powers, and it is semiofficially stated in Constantinople that the British admiral in Cretan waters has been, notified not to send any warships of Great Britain to take part in the proposed blockade of the ports of Greece. At the same time, however, in order, apparently, to avoid an open rupture with the powers. Great Britain will acquiesce in the blockade of the Greek ports. According to the reports in diplomatic circles, the powers have already been notified to this effect, and the withdrawal of Great Britain from, the blockade is the one subject discussed, Sprinsi Cycling Costume. // iH Mi /J /i The dead body of Sheriff Jacob Malmgren of Saline County. Kan., was found , in an empty box ear. He shot himself in ; i the head with a revolver. He mysterious--1 ly disappeared from Salina when it be--1 came known that he was short over $1,006 in his accounts with the county. } The Transvaal raid inquiry was continued at London, W. P. Schreiner again : being examined. He denied that the ’ Boers were animated by hostility to Cecil - Rhodes. Mr. Chamberlain’s questions । throughout were strongly critical of Pres* . I ident Kruger’s government.