St. Joseph County Independent, Volume 22, Number 40, Walkerton, St. Joseph County, 24 April 1897 — Page 2

' .... W -^3 <!( I Nub '■’ £® i w.tx™ ' MwJk CHAPTER 111. Four days had passed, and Sunday had jcotne, and this Sunday was Christmas Iday. It was a clear, bright, frosty day, |with brilliant sunshine that sparkled on trees and hedges, and the diamond icicles Ithnt beautified their bareness. । Darby was standing by the window, iready equipped for church in crimson pelisse and furs, out of which her golden head and sweet white-rose face lifted themselves like a flower. The child knew perfectly well when I was dressed and ready for her. At times really it seem cd to me as if she must be able to see. so keen were her instincts and so infallibly correct. I was settled in the family pew, whore generations and generations of Templetons had worshiped in their time, and Darby had nestled close to me, and with nwe struck face, was listening to the deep rolling tones of the organ. 2X9 the clergy man entered and took his place I saw two figures appear in the great square pew opposite our own. At the same instant a nudge from Ted and a whisper of “Thr Rover" sent the color flying to my face nnd overwhelmed me with a sudden tit of shyness, I could not for worlds have investigated the newcomers with the cool, critical stare of my brothers. It was not, in fact, until the service was half over that I summoned up courage to look in their direction. Thon I saw a bright, handsome face, with laughing eyes, that met my own as if claiming acquaintance with me, and in renewed confusion I dropped my lowered lids upon my book, thinking to myself: “So —that is the nephew.” I had not seen the uncle at ail. ' After the service we filed out of the pew and marched down the aisle—a family procession, headed by father and brought up by Darby and myself. Close upon our heels came the inmates of Monk's Hall. As we left the church porch and emerged into the bright, frosty air, I saw n tall figure push rapidl.v by and come up with father. He. in turn, stopped, then a pleased look of welcome broke over his face. There was a brisk shaking of hands, a crowd of questions. Then my father turned round and faced the group of sons and daughters with which Providence had Been tit to bless him, and we heard his Blow, clear voice introducing us generally to his old and esteemed friend. Sir Ralph Ferrers. Sir Ralph shook hands with the boys individually, and then looked at me as I stood a little apart holding Darby's band. “My eldest and youngest daughters." said father, and the kindest, noblest face I have ever seen was looking down at mt nnd at the tiny hand drawn slowly out of the little muff, and held towards him. | “And what is your name, my dear?" he asked, holding the wee hand in his great jpalm. and gazing with a little puzzled look in bis keen gray eyes nt the lovely aittle face, on which the winter sunlight (fell so gaily. 1 “I is Darby." she says, in her pretty, plaintive voice; “ami dis is Joan,” taking (her hand away and putting it in mine. 1 Sir Ralph looked astonished. ; “Darby and Joan!” he echoed. “A new {version of the old story, Miss TempleIto n?” “It's only a nickname the boys gave Sher,” I said hurriedly, for I saw tin* gathering cloud on father’s face; “her real name is Dorothea.” “No. it not.” affirmed the child, shaking pier golden head; “it's Darby, and ine's [jo's little husband.' 1 Sir Ralph laughed outright, ami as I suet his kind, frank eyes, I laughed too, Ifeeling as if his genial face put me on [good terms w ith him directly. “But * am forgetting myself.” he resumed quickly; “I must introduce my siephew to you all. Here, Yorke, my boy, .come forward and show yourself!” I dpi not need to look at the face. I /knew it so well. I could have fold to a jehad e the color of hair and eyes; the [shape of the laughing mouth, with its jsweep of fair mustache; the beautifully (molded, if somewhat weak-looking chin; ithe lithe, careless grace of figure. There jwere more bows and hand-clasps, and Ithcn we moved on, our numbers augmentled by two. and I heard father warmly in(sisting upon these new acquaintances I (Coming l» take their Christmas dinner ’ nvith us.

We all v alke'l on together. father and : )Sir Ralph chatting in a friendly and fa j aniliar lushion that amazed us, Yorke Fer 'rers and King Alfred just behind them, 'and Ted clinging to my arm, schoolboy tfashion. as 1 walked along with Darby. Presently Yorke Ferrers and Alfy turn Around and join us. • “Alfred.” 1 ask, “did you notice that Lid Mrs. Razebronk was in church? 1 , [wonder who that pretty girl was with | mor. Do you know?” | “That.” says Yorke, quietly, “is her i ^granddaughter. Miss Croft Nettie Croft, h know her very well. What a horrid old iwomau the grandmother is'. Do you at Beast. I suppose you do know her ! > “She is one of our oldest and dearest nriends,” says Ted calmly and menda'eiously. and with a rebuking gravity id' aoic<‘ tJiat would not misbecome father. I glance at Yorke Ferrers’ disconcerted face, and then at my brothers’ surprised ones. I feel indignant. “Do not believe him. Mr. Ferrers.” I jsay hurriedly. “She is nothing of the sort. We detest her a mean, backbiting, spiteful old woman. 1 am sorry for her gra ndda tighter. , “So am 1," ho says, looking at me gratexMlly.

CHAPTER IV. The (’hristmas dinner is over. We have jaten of turkey ami plum pudding; we have been astonished at father’s genial appearance and conversation; we have -

taken notes of our visitors, and are rather inclined to be pleased with Sir Ralph. The young ones have gone off to bed, and Alfred and I and Yorke Ferrers are sitting with father and his friend in the dining room, and there partake of “a last stirrup cup." “How jolly you must till be together!” remarks Yorke Ferrers, who is at my side. "Jolly!" I say dubiously. “Well, yes, I suppose we are. But I should think you must find your uncle excellent company." A black look I have before noticed comes into the sunny eyes. “A man twenty years older than my self can scarcely be ‘excellent company,’ ” he says with a sneer. “Twenty years!" I exclaim invohmtar- ‘ ily. “Is he really twenty years older? I s should never have thought it. But then • some people are young for their years, 1 just as others are old.” a And as I say it I sigh, minomberinff how heavily my seventeen years seem • sometimes to weigh upon me. "1 suppose you think I am old for 1 mine?" says my companion huffily. 1 "You don't look twenty years younger ' than your uncle, certainly," I answer ’ frankly. "But. then, no one would ever dream ho was forty!” 1 “You have not had much experience in judging of age, I should think," is my companion's reply. “Your brother tells me you have lived here all your life, and ’ for real, utter, downright stagnation, give 1 me a country life with its daily undeviat- ■’ ing routine.” fl "Have you experienced it?” 1 ask coolly. "Well, not exactly. You see, I've been 0 at Eton, and then at college, and I only ' came here when when ”He hesia fates, and his brow darkens. e "When you had expectations?" I suggest. He looks at me blackly, almost savageI ly. Evidently 1 have bit upon a sore e point. , “You know of course every one knows. It is common talk, no doubt. That is an other advantage of country life; every j fact and detail relating to one's neigh f bar's affairs is seized upon nnd discussed , with the utmost avidity." । "I wonder, if you so dislike it. that you . have come to live here." I remark, wondering w hat Sir Ralph is ti lling Alfy and father that seems to amuse them so much. "I have no choice,” he says gloomily; "1 :tn> dependent on my uncle." It is on the tip of my tongue to fell him he ought to In more grateful than he seems. Im! I refrain. 1 am still lost in meditation when his voice recalls me. "Weil.” be says, and like magic the clouds clear off. and it is his bright, sunny boy face that looks back at me again. “You have beta studying me ns if you wished to take me for a model. know you paint; your brother told me so.” "My brother seems to have told you a great deal about me." I say. trying to I hide my confusion by speaking jocularly. "Perhaps 1 asked him," he says in a low voice, ami looking nt me as m ver human being Ims looked yet. “That is so likely." I say. in sudden anger. "Why should you interest yourself about me about any of us? Why, you never knew of our existence till to-day." “Perhaps when I did know of that ex istenee the interest followed.” he answers "I have been here a week nnd had 11 >t .1 living soul to exchange ideas with ex cept, of course, my uncle." “And Nettie < ’roft," 1 say, quickly. I Ie gives a little start. "How do you know?" ho asks. "I I only supposed it." I say, laughing at his confusion, "You know you told me this morning that she was a friend of yours, and they certainly don't live a stone's throw from Monk's Hall." "That doesn’t count,” he says, hurried ly. “She's 11 sort of -of cousin, or something. We have known < a h other s nee we were children.” “You have quite cheered Yorke up among you all," here says Sir Ralph, beaming in most kindly fashion and coming towards us. "I have not heard him laugh for many a long day. 1 dare say.” he adds, with compunction, "it is dull enough for him, shut up with at) old fogy like myself. I hope, if it is not asking too ! much, that yon will let him drop in now and then: the society of the young is for the young eh. Templeton?” “Yes—ah! decidedly." says father, with unwonted cordiality. "Send him here whenever you like—whenever he likes. And and you must come yourself, you know. 1 should lie glad to explain to you that new work I have been engaged on, and whose discussion we postponed to night.” Presently 1 hear plans being laid for a visit to Monk's Hall. We are all to go lie insists upon it—father and all: and for the first time in memory I hear father accepting an. invitation almost as heartily as if is given. ; Then there is a vast deal of hand-shak-

ng anil s|>< < • mfynig. am! finally oily guests arc off, ami xve watch them driving away in the frosty December starlight, and I go op to my room with Sir Ralph's hearty voice ringing in my cars: “Thanks fora most happy Christnia>!" The next day wo all paid a visit to Monk’s Hall. We passed into Ilie hall. Sir Ralph leading the way with latlur, I following them, with ’I orke b errt rs on one side ami Darby clinging to my haml on the ot her. Monk's Hall was very, very old I am i afraid to say how old. I know there w:>s a general air of gloom ami moldiness j about it that would have enraptured an archaeologist. Father naturally was in I ecstasies over it, and peered into moldings I and carvings, and gave dates ot the architecture and medieval decorations, that I somehow seemed to interest the possessor । far less than tin- informaiit. j "Come with me,” whispered Yorke ForI revs hurriedly, “I want to show you the I picture gallery. Leave Ilie old fogies Io prose to tbems(‘lves." “You are not very polite to your uncle,” I said, following him as be dived through a curtained archway, ami glancing back as I spoke to give a sign of invitation to the boys, which they promptly followed. I found myself at Inst at the farthest

end of the gallery, and standing before the portraits of one of the bygone generation of Ferrers. The face struck me at once by its extraordinary likeness to that of Yorke. It was a young face, too, and handsomer even than that living one by • my side, but marred, as his often was, I

I ■— by the look of gloomy discontent that darkened the eyes and brows. ; “Do you see the likeness?” asked Yorke abruptly as my eyes turned from the poftrait to himself. “Os course you do. I”4. wdh an uneasy little laugh—“l can see it myselt. He was a bad lot, that Ferret T b’reat uncle—nnd came to a bad end ’ \ ’’V ” ‘ hPy ° Ught t 0 have Painted 1 * , k toil over the portrait, as they .Ln® ‘ ' at one of Carino FalS J*! s P«lnee in Venice.” I mt would have been cruel ” I Hn u 'ndignantly; “for in time his evil deeds might be forgot ten. and fade away with >"« memory. There is no need to 1^ "™nal tablet to revive them ‘ be mereitu V" 1 'Tf tb °” ght y°“ Ihmr en ors against themselves ” T Ah I said lightly, "but 'von see I ,\ P . had no experience in that line yet,” Have your brothers always been K> good to you?” he asked. “You see t'k a novel experience to me, meeting’ will ■ I '. Pa'ty like yours. I never had any brothers or sisters ” siona^/ o ’’-^ ’ compaisi<nat(].i. What a pity! 1 think vou would not 4>e ho- ” "So what?" he questioned as »I came io an abrupt stop. 1 “Well," I stammered, growgMM»*T what con fused at my.own phrmspeiikiW. I going to say p«s,tyy know,” 1 added, apologetically, “you take umbrage very quickly." ( f “Do I?" he said, reddening. “I did know. 1 suppose I do. They al way*. “’",‘(l at school 1 had a beastly temper.” | ' "1 have not asked you for that anej«tor’s history." I said, with sudden irrejevanec. “But I wish you would tell it l|e, some day.” “< ’ertainly." he said, a little surpriaS, "But 1 warn yon it is not a pleasant oni” "No matter.” I answered, curtly. “It may be- prophetic.” <To be continued.) WIDCWS OF THE REVOLUTION. Seven ! ensm iern Wh„,e H nalintels Serve t Un ter Washington, j “.Seven women are still drawing pinshuts as the widows of mon who sBW active service in the war of the rev<jution: women whose husbands serwd under Wa.shingtt n more than a hiindred and twenty years agl,” | writes ClitTord Howard in the ladles’ Homo Journal. “The eldest of these surviving widows of the revclution is living at I.os Angelas, ('alifoi ni l. She is Mrs. Lovey Aldrich, now in the ninety-eighth year of her age. Her husband was Private (blleb Aldrich, who was born in the year 1763, and served as a soldier boy in the New England campaigns of the war. Mrs. Nancy Jones, of Jonesborough. Tenn., wh< se hrshaml was Dorling Jones, a private in one of the North Carolina regiments, is the youngest of the revolut.onary widows, being now about 83 years of age. The of her live are Nancy Cloud, w ho is living at Chum. Virginia, and is the widow of Sergeant William Cloud, of Captain Christian's Virginia I r.e; Esther S. i'emon, of Plymo’ h. I nion. \ ermont, w hose husband Private Noah Damon, of p setts; Mary Snead, living at ParksJ'*Xirginla. widow of Private BowdjxiJi Snead; Nancy A. Went hernia n. liv< 4 at Elk Mills. Tennessee, a^ w bo 0 first husband w as Robert t;ht a ' eo< k. a lifer in one of the Virginia rej^' meats; ami Rebecca Mayo, living Newbern. Virginia, widow of Steph^ l Mayo, a soldier from Virginia. 1 h> ll Ihese wome’i <an be ‘he w idows revelutioi a ry soldiers Is readily umk r ' si ><>d in view of the fact that their hti I amis wet" well on in years w hen thi Y married. As. for example, when Esth T Sntriwr narrii d Noah Damon in tl ie year i5.",5 fitly two years after t ie <!. s • of the war she was but tweutVmie. while lie was seventy six. The la«st revolutii miry w idow pensioner who had married prior to the (dose of tl ie war. and had therefore actually Lift d during revolutionary times, was Nam y Serena, widow of Daniel I’. Bakunian. Sho died about t weidy-seven years ago, only a year or two after her husbau 1, w lio was the last of the revolutio«'y sold ers on the pension roll.” The Worst of It. President Lincoln's reputation as a humorirt rests largely upon the & 4 stories he could tell, or invent, to illustrate a point. Sometimes, n^v*. rIheless. I:e exhibits himself as 1 sok 1 Jr in aimlher way. as in this nneiMG te nairatod by Halper's Round Ta!® One day Lim ola and a certain jtiK |j, an intimate friend, wore bantorii [g eac h other about horses, a fa . » topic. Finally. Lincoln said: Bb "Well, look here, judge, I'll tell <1 what I'll do. I'll mak(‘ a horse-t»rße with you, only it mm-t be upon thqKe stipulations: Norther party shall stae the other's horse until u is prodtt<>&yi Imre In the courtyard of the ho'el.^Tf i both parlies mu.sl trade iiorse.u • eitlior parly backs out of the agl«^P mem he dims so under a forfei' me^B 1 w 1 nty lie e dollars." i "Agreed,” cried the judge, and Lp lie and Lincoln went in search ol th* ri :■ 1 < < 1 i \ ea ni ma Is. : E|| A crowd gathered, anticipating so' | fun. and when ti:e judge returned lit ' the laugh was uproarious. He led, i rather dragged, at the end of a halt PI T the meanest, boniest rib-staring qua ruped. blind in both eyes, that eV * pr ssi d turf; but presently Lined ? camo along carrying over his shotdfl 1 a carpenter's horse. Then the mil' of the crowd was furious. Lined ; s< lomnly set hls horse down, and , ..' bmily surveyed Ilie judge's anini '. with a comical look of infinite lisgu "Wi 1). .judge." he finally said, “tl \ r ' is the first time I । ver got the worst! it in a horse trade.” I P ;

Turned Over. j “There is 100 much sy.-dem in t . school business,” growled Tonir ; 1S “.lust because 1 snickered a little ‘ monitor turned me over to the teacll । the teacher turned mo over to the pi ,r ' eipal. and the principal turned me o n ' to paw.” , “Was that all?” 4 “No. Paw turned me over his knel H

CRUEL KE IES The Greeks and Turks Meet in Deadly Combat. FIGHTING IS GENERAL Thirtyto Fifty Thousand Troops Engaged. Prevesa Bombarded by tbo Hellenes —Sultan’s Batteriea Open lloHtilltiea by Sinking the Greek Fteamcr Macedonia- Turkey Notifies tiic Powers that the In Forced to Fiuht—Dipl<fmatic Relations Between the Two Nations Formally and Completely Severed — Contestants Fisht I.ike Demons. War has broken out between Greece nnd Turkey. Fierce battles have been fought at Karyn, at Milouna Pass and at Prevesa on the CSulf of Aeta. The most desperate battle was fought nt Milouna Pass, where 20,000 men fought more than thirty hours without food or sleep. Diplomatic relations between the two nations have been severed. Turkey insists that Greece has provoked the conflict by her aggressive attitude on the frontier of Macedonia. On the other hand, Greece insists that Turkey has been the aggressor. Crete, which was the original cause of the conflict, seems now to be overlooked. Unless some of the great powers intercede there is certain to be great loss of ^1 I^-7. KING GKOKGE OF GKEKCE. httman life before tbe quarrel is settled Theoretically nnd under the precedents of International law none of the powers com- ■ prising the European concert is at liberty ' to intervene between the two combatants. The war is between themselves, and be yond the recent effort to prevent hostilities the so calleil concert of powers lias no right to intervene. Whether the nations will defer to this unwritten law. however, and keep bands off is n questtim which time alone ran decide. Every one of the

| WHERE THE BATTLES WERE FOUGHT. Map Showing the First 1: men to In the War Hctwacn Turkey and Greece. f ’'CW 'y - W I SEA I ° N t A N » RE E C ®E A r ,,^ 7/ \ j; X I’l. A NATION. The heavv dot en the southwest coaU Indicates the locat on of Prevesa. where the Turkish forttflejt oni we e situated widen sunk the Gr ek steamer M wed >nla, an 1 which were subsequently destroved by the < .re iin war>hips. Hie second dot on the line of the northern frontier between Elassona and l.ati s i desUnates the scene of the heavy lighting at MuounaJass.

larger European powers is more or less directly interested in the affairs of the Levant. , Greek subjects in Constantinople will probably remain under the protection of Mr. Terrell, the American minister. A dispatch to the London Chronicle from Athens says the Greeks have captured Menaxa after severe lighting. >■ Turkish losses were very heavy; the Greek comparatively light. ihe correspondent adds: “The Greek fleet has < estroyed half the fortresses at Prevesa ami silenced the guns. The Greeks have captured and hold all the positions except Ana and Milouna along the Thessalian line. European powers have done noth- ' ing for several weeks, because they have hoped that Greece would be either financially ruined or soundly beaten by 1 urkey. If Turkey gets Larissa she will remain there until Greece evacuates < rete. It was Germany that urged '1 urkey to declare war.” Does Not Peek Conquest. The correspondent of the Associated Press understands that Turkey has no Idea of territorial conquest, because she is aware that the powers would not sanction an advance to Athens. The idea is that she will first attempt Io capture Larissa, and then march on I richala and Plianari. If these also are captured Turkey would be in a position to compel Greece to com ply with the demandsol the powers. 1 he Turkish fleet, however, is still in the Dardanelles, where it is likely to remain as long as the Greeks continue active. It is reported that the powers, so far from blockading Greek ports, will even allow Col. Vassos and his army to return to Greece if he decides to do so. In any case, the Greek fleet would be able to harass Turkey at many points, besides m addition keeping open the supply of provisions ami munitions for the Greek army. The latest advices from Arta show that the rains have been followed by three days of hot, fine weather, and the river, Arakphos, which alone separates the opposing armies, is rapidly shrinking, me

hill roads are improving in condition. It 1 is at this point that the severest and deadliest fighting may be expected. Another question of dominating influence is whether the Greeks can engineer < an uprising in Macedonia and the Sporades islands. Russia and Germany are meanwhile content to see Greece and 1 urkey crippling each other for many years to come, so long as the other Balkan Slates are kept quiet. What War Will Mean. The war between Greece and Turkey means much more than appears in the newspaper dispatches, and, in the opinion of the wisest diplomats, it will end with I ABDUL HAMID, SULTAN OF TURKEY, , the dismemberment of the Turkish em- > pire. Russia has for years been trying to । involve Turkey in hostilities in order that she might have an excuse to conquer and t annex the sultan's dominions, and that I purpose is so well known in Europe that 1 the Christian powers have declined to in- t terfere forcibly in Turkish affairs because ~ they know that sooner or later such interference would involve them with Russia. The agents of the czar provoked the massacres of the Armenians with the hope and expectation tiiat England, Germany and other nations would intervene. When they refused to do so the massacres erased and Russian intrigue sought another field of action, which was found among the discontented Cretans. The fighting 1 Greeks and Turks must make a battleground of their own provinces, which are notoriously disloyal, and are surrounded by nations whose sympathies are entirely with her enemies, and the sultan knows very well that the big paw of the Russian I bear is likely to fall upon him at any mo- ! tuent. WANTS TO BE A MINISTER. I Th:« Lady Wishes to Represent Uncle Snm in tbo Republic of Colombia. Mrs. Manila Marks Ricker, the wellknown woman lawyer of Washington and । Dover, N. IL. lias made appliiation for ! the post of envoy extraordinary and min- | istcr plenipotentiary to the I nited States of Colombia. Mrs. Ricker was born in Durham, N. ! IL, in ISIO. In her early life she was a school teacher, and while in this occupation she married John Ricker. Twentyseven years ago ho died. Since his death Mrs. Ricker has studied law faithfully ami to excellent purpose. She is permittea to plLl ti . 1 r.. . m-’.'Supreme < o irt of the District of Columbia, and wlun

she gained admission she stood first of the class of nineteen who competed for the honor. Her classmates word all men. Later she was appointed United States commissioner and examiner in chancery by th<' Supreme Court of the district. In ISUO she gained admission to the bar of New Hampshire. In ISSX she wont on the stump for Harrison in the West, and wrote political articles during the campaign of 1592, organizing a woman’s Republican club at Marshalltown, lowa. During that year MUS. MAKITJ A MAKKS KICKER. also she took the stump again at Peabody, Mass. A street railway company in New York has offered the city S4,MO.<XX) for a franchise. The previous offer was $2,000,000 and 5 per cent of gross receipts. This enormous bid is brought out by the rivalry of two lines for the coveted franchise. The American colony in London will endow a hospital as their share of the celebration of the queen's jubilee.

WOMAN IN THE CASE. CAUSED THE DOWNFALL OF A CHICAGO BANK. University of Illinois Hadley Crippled by Failure of the Globe SavingsRecreant Agent of the People’s Trust Turns Over Assets, Spald ng Assigns. Charles W. Spalding, ex-president of the Globe Savings Batik of Chicago, and extreasurer of the I. niversity of Illinois, made a voluntary assignment to the university trustees of realty and bond securities approximating S4(MIJMK>. Much of this property is already in the hands of tiie C hicago Title and Trust Company, receiver of the Globe Savings Bank. Only $124,(100 <>f university bonds have been lound in the Globo Savings Bank and in the Globe safety deposit vaults where ex-Treasurer Spalding is supposed to have deposited his securities. '1 he banks which hold university securities as collateral for loans made ('. W, Spalding announce they will resist any effort the university trustees may make to recover the collateral placed with them by Spalding. Kx Treasurer Spalding declared in a March amber meeting that he was obliged to hypothecate the university bonds in order to meet the drafts of the university for current expenses. Spalding brands as false and malicious the charges that have been made against him. declaring that the Globe savings depositors will be paid in full. Unless a loan is negotiated by the trustees of the University of Illinois, an appropriation is made by the State Legislature or money is given to the institution it will be compelled to close its doors. SO CHAKLF.S W. SPALDING. It develops that Bank Examiner Hayden advised State Auditor Gore ns early as Jan. !», IS‘j7, to ciose the Globe Savings Bank. The above, briefly stated, comprise the chief developments in one of the most gigantic financial scandals in the history of Illinois. In connection with the matter has been a great deal of gossip concerning Spalding’s relations with Miss S. Louise Ervin, a stenographer in the bank. This broke up Spalding's tioiae ami •aused the retirement two years ago of two oflieiaL from the Globe Savings Bank. A feeling of dread for the inevitable outcome led \ ice President Cilley and (’ashier Jackson to resign their respective positions within three days of each other in the spring of 1895. Horatio N. Gilley said: "The chief motive impelling me was a conviction on my part that Mr. Spalding's relations with Miss Ervin would end (lisastrously both for his business interests and his reputation socially. I always found him honest and capable in every business transaction, but his conduct as regarded Miss Ervin, leading to his estrangement from his wife and family. was being unfavorably commented on ami undermined the confidence and regard of even his lifelong friends. Those matters reacted on his business relations." Charles Jackson resigned the cashier's desk of the Globe a few days after Mr. Cilley quit the vice-presidency. Mr. Jackson very frankly admitted that he resigned his place in the Globe Bank solely because he knew that Spalding s relations with Miss Ervin would ultimately ruin the bank president. CHILDREN GET MARRIED. Youthful Couple Who Eloped Receive the Parental Blessing. Perhaps the youngest couple united in marriage in this country are Ada Bird, the 14-year-old daughter of a wealthy publisher in Atlanta, ami John P. Atkinson, the IG-year-old son of Gov. \\ . Y. Atkinson of Georgia. The youthiul bridegroom is private secretary to his I fl J MIL N > Mils. J. r. ATKINSON. father ami draws a salary of $1,200. When the amorous relations between him ami Miss Bird were discovered an effoit was made to break them off and the young lady was sent to relatives at Aylmer. Here young Atkinson followed her ami the couple eloped ami were married at Kingston by a jusliee of the peace. After th dr I elopement ami before their marriage the I families of the couple made every effort I to prevnt the performance of the ceremony, but in vain. Ihe situation was then accept! <1 by the parents of the youthful groom and bride ami a second ceremonj a religious one was performed. A youth named Harrison was killed in a glove contest with a boy named Tobin at Hampton. Ark. Harrison's neck was broken by a blow from Tobin in-the first round, and death was instantaneous. Owing to the death of M. J. Fitch, the Chicago paper dealer, two companies of which be was president made an assignment. The names of the companies are the M. J. Fitch Paper Company and the American Roll Wrapping Paper Company. While mass was being said in a church at Castres, Frame, the roof collapsed. Seven women and one man were killed and thirty persons were seriously injured. Jose Curbelo, a naturalized American, who has been imprisoned in Cuba on a charge of conspiracy, has been released.