St. Joseph County Independent, Volume 23, Number 1, Walkerton, St. Joseph County, 24 July 1897 — Page 6

0!^ FA Fl w M n rew Bfapßal •MgawffiSf p .®"l Ft JU «W/ bfe

CHAPTER I. “Prince Cahrlie’s” daughter! The sun ehone on the day of her birth; the bells in Erceldean pealed merrily; the flag waved for Erceldean towers; every face on the Erceldean estate wore a bright, pleased expression. “Her ladyship has a little daughter,” the tenants said one to anotffier, then stopped a tuoment and added, “Heaven bless the mother and the child!” “Prince Charlie” himself was in a trance of delight. He might have lived in the oiden days when people cried out, “Largess—a princess is born!” He gave with both hands, royally as a king. The clang of joy-bells filled the air; fragrance and melody greeted the birth of “Prince Charlie's” daughter—Beatrix Lennox, heiress of Erceldean. No king’s heart was ever stirred with more passionate joy than this which now animated the heart of “Prince Charlie.” He stood on the summit of a sloping hill, thick green grass waving at his feet, wild heather to the right and to the left of him. tall, spreading trees over his head. He looked round him with pride and delight. This noble domain of Erceldean, how fair it was! In all the length of bonny Scotland no spot was half so fair —and it would all be hers one day. “What Shall I name her?” he thought. “Beatrix Lennox, the proudest, fairest, haughtiest lady of our race, won the love of a king. She might have been crowned queen, but that she loved the land of her birth better than the king who wooed her. She preferred to be Countess of St. Mar. I will call my daughter ‘Beatrix'; it is a name of good omen. Perhaps it may win for her a loyal love.” He repeated the name as he descended the hill. He walked quickly through the heather, through the clover meadows, through the pleasure gardens, and along the terraces that surrounded the castle. A waiting woman met him at the door. “Her ladyship would be so pleased to see you, colonel,” she said. The colonel went on his way singing, in a low voice, his favorite song, “The Blue Bells of Scotland.” He reached her ladyship’s room, and there waited until : the nurse's voice bid him enter. It was I a large, lofty room, superbly furnished. On the bed, with its rich hangings, lay a pale, gentle lady, with a sweet, patient sac—sweet, yet sad, as of one who suffered in silence. She held proudly in her arms a little child. She raised her eyes as the colonel entered. “Charlie, come and look at her," she said. “I have never seen such a face. Look at her!” “There is some character in baby’s face,” remarked the colonel. “Look at the sweet little lips—how firmly they are closed! See how delicately arched the brows are. The eyes are dark. There is an old border song of ‘a dark-eyed Lennox with a heart of fire.’ ” Lady Lennox looked up at her husband. “Charlie,” she began half reluctantly, “do you know why I sent for you? I thought that on this the day that our little child Ihas been given to us you would not refuse my petition.” “That I will not,” he replied. “Like the king in your favorite history, I would give you the half of my kingdom.” She laid her hand on his thick, clustering curls. “My dear Charlie, I have never doubted your willingness to give. I doubt, though, whether you have much to give. I know it is almost useless to talk to you; but, Charlie, now that we have the little one, will you not try to alter? I want you to promise to be more economical. Do not give away so much —do not bet on those terrible horses —do not trust so implicitly in a blind fate; if you’do, ruin will follow. Generosity is a duty, but not such lavish generosity as yours. For my sake, for the little ene’s sake, begin now to act differently.” He bent down and kissed the rosebud face. “I will, Ailsa. You know I mean to do j right always—l have no thought of doing i wrong. Dame Nature is to blame, who I gave me the open hands of a king without I the revenues to fill them. I like bright j faces, and, if a gift of nr ie clears a sad | face, I am well pleased.” “Say these words after mo—‘For your ; eake, my little Beatrix, I promis; to be 1 more careful —to give less, to save more. ; to renounce betting, and devote my time to home.’ ” He reputed the words, and then kissed his wife’s hands and the baby’s face. “Ailsa, I hope your daughter will be like yourself.” The baby was christened soon afterward. A duchess was its godmother. The whole domain of Erceldean seemed to be illuminated. The only one troubled with foreboding, the only one who wept when others laughed, and sighed when others smiled, who foresaw sorrow, was the wife of “Prince Charlie,” the mother of the little heiress, Lady Lennox. CHAPTER 11. The sun shone upon few braver, brighter, happier men than .Col. Charles Lennox. He was one of the handsomest officers in her majesty’s army—a man of lofty stature and powerful build, with a graceful, easy, dignified carriage; his features were bold, frank and proud; there was joined in him the dash of the soldier with the grace of the cavalier. He was ^ust twenty when he succeeded to the vast fortune left him by his father. His father, Keith Lennox of Erceldean, had two sons—Charles, the colonel, who succeeded him, and Peter, the younger eon, who was a graceless ne'er-do-well—-he had neither manners, morals nor style, Keith Lennox was accustomed to say. There was no great love between the

brothers, although l Charlie had a contemptuous kind of pity for the ungainly boy who was so invariably awkward and ‘ clumsy. Peter solved for himself the difficult ■ problem of his existence. He ran away 1 from home, leaving a letter addressed to ? his father, in which he stated that it was his intention to make a fortune at the ; I gold diggings; he was going to sail in the ' Ormolia, he said. The father's first feel- ' ing on reading the letter was one of unmitigated relief. But a few weeks afterward, when he read the story of the wi^ck of the Ormolia with the loss of all on board, he mourned for his son. There was an end to Peter; he could never annoy, disgrace, nor irritate them again. Charles Lennox succeeded to the whole of the Erceldean estate. There had been ample provision made for Peter, t hat now became his brother’s. At twenty-one Charles Lennox was one of the handsomest and wealthiest men in Scotland. He served in one campaign against the Sikhs in India. It was there that his fair face became bronzed*—there that he won his brilliant reputation for fearless courage. Col. Lennox was comparatively a young man when the necessity of looking after his estate compelled him to leave the army. He divided his time between London and Erceldean, and married, after a short courtship, the pretty, portionless orphan daughter of a Scotch peer—the Lady Ailsa Graeme—who simply idolized him. They were married ten years before the birth cf their little daughter, Beatrix Lennox. There were few men so courted or so popular as the colonel; he was chiefly known by the name of “Prince Charlie.” It was difficult not to idolize him, sine*' he had ways and fashions im re royal : even than those of a king. He was kind and warm of heart, impetuous, indiscreet; he was possessed of little caution or judgment, but he had an immense faith in everything and every one—an immense sympathy for all whom he came in contact with. How many destitute children he placed in schools, how many desolate | widows he established in business; how j many young simpletons ho rescued from • folly, could never be told. j In vain did Lady Lennox remonstrate. “My dear wife," he would answer in his I genial, happy fashion, "I have so much money that I can never spend it all.” He lent, he gave, he lost, until the day camo that his banker, with a grave face, told him that his account was so far overdrawn that some arrangement must be made. The gay, handsome colonel was electrified. At first he declared that the firm was mad; and then he grew indignant. An interview with his solicitors brought him to his senses, and he saw that there was no resource save to mortgage Erceldean. “Prince Charlie” lost more and more. The London house was given up, a farm was sold, the mortgage was increased. Lady Lennox startled her husband one day by telling him that if he should die unexpectedly he had not a shilling to leave her. Still the fright was not much of a check on him; the mortgage was increased. So it happened that when Beatrix was born there was no heritage left for her. He never realized it. To himself he was always Col. Lennox of Erceldean, lord of one of the fairest estates in ’Scotland. What did it matter to him that it was mortgaged to its full value, and that at any time, if the mortgage money was called in, he would be a ruined man? He was not of a nature to remember such things; he had a happy faculty of thrusting all dark thoughts from his mind. He had promused to amend now that his little heiress was born; but it was too late to do so; he should have reformed years before. He had l nothing now to keep. He struggled on until Beatrix reached her fourth year. She had all a child’s passionate adoration for the handsome, i generous father who kissed her and loaded her with toys. She loved him, with an affection passing the love of children for their parents, until her fourth year, and j then a terrible accident happened. I One sunny morning in August the coloI nel kissed his wife and child for the last i time. Some one had begged him, to try a I new horse which it was feared was viI cions; with his usual good nature ho had I consented. When Lady Lennox, looking I into his handsome face, asked him whithi er he was going, he answered laughingly I and evasively. Had they known the ' , truth, neither wife nor child would have parted with him. “You will come home to dinner, Char ‘ lie?” said Lady Lennox. “Do not ride ! | too quickly or too far; the day is warm.” 1 The colonel laughed. 1 “Fancy such advice as that to a man 4 who has ridden forty miles in tint heat of ■! an Indian sun!” he cried. “I will be r i back for dinner, Ailsa—indeed, if you feel । dull or lonely, I will not go at till.” Four hours afterward they carried him home to Erceldean--dead! CHATTER HI. Bea r rix Lennox, child as she was at f that time, remembered the untold horror t of the day on which her father was - brought home dead. She remembered the s slanting sunshine as it fell upon the grass, r the silent hours while her father was 3 away and her mother, Lady Lennox, lay t reading on the couch. How suddenly the calmness and the sweet sunshine seemed , to terminate as over the greensward came j the tramp of men! She remembered the r terrible cry of her mother when she heard - what the men had to say—“ The colonel is •, dead”; and the little lisping child, hardly . knowing the meaning of the words, reg peated them—“ The colonel is dead.”

Then came a long interval. Sho had a, dim remembrance of dark-browed men raging and storming in Erceldean Castle,’ of looking at a tall, angry man, who stood, in the picture gallery, raving against her dead father-called him “prodigal” and' “spendthrift”—of a servant trying to quiet him, saying: “Hush! the child is listening.” “The child had better be dead than a beggar,” he answered. "Hore is my lady coming,” said the servant. “And ‘my lady' had better be dead, too,” declared the man savagely. She remembered a hundred similar scenes—-how her mother came to her ono morning dressed in deep mourning, her pale face looking quite colorless and contrasting with her black robes . “Beatrix,” she said, “come with me, child, and say good-by to your home. You are a little child, but you are old enough to remember what I am going to say to you. Ixiok at that beautiful castle; it should be yours. You were born heiress of Erceldean, yet you have not a penny in the world. Beatrix, only heaven knows what l.es before us —what is to be our fate; but promise me always to remember that this is your home, always to remember that you were born a lady.” “I am a lady,” said the child, proudly, “not a beggar as that man called me, but a lady.” “Promise me, too, my darling, that, if in the years to come you be fqrtjjnate or prosperous, you w’ • vo->’ oeqj buy back the old home of the Lennoxes. “I will, maTirnin,” said the child. “Remember another thing, my darling. They used to call you ‘Prince Charlie's’ daughter in the days when feasting and revelry wasted your father's substance, when men flattered him and borrowed from him and led him to ruin.” “Poor papa!” said tin* child, with fastdropping tears. "Dear, noble, generous papa!” cried Lady Lennox. "Oh, my little daughter, he has left mo almost penniless; yet, I declare to you that I wouhl rather be his widow, left poor and obscun?, than the widow of a king. But you do not understand me.” "Yes, I do, mamma. I understand you loved 1 papa. So did I.” Thon came a journey over the hills. Beatrix asked her mother whither they were going. Lady Lennox said: "You have never heard of the place, child; we are going to the old Grange at Str ithnarn, an old house left! to me years ago, and an income of a hundred a year with it. I smiled at the time I heard of the legacy; now I thank heaven for it.” Stra bnarn wa; reached at last. The Grange was a large, rambling building, pleasantly situated. The house stood on the summit of a richly wooded hill, and a beautiful lake, called Lo< h Nani, lay at its fi it. No scenery could have boon richer or more picturesque: no landscape more lovely. The Grange itself was a dreary habitation. In that great lonely house there were no carp'ts, no pictures nothing but <dd oaken furpiture out of date, long, dark passages, and gloomy rooms. There was one servant, Margaret by name, a staid, warm-hearted Scotchwoman, who had long bi . n accustnmed to the Grange. Sho had liv d there alone since her late mistress’ den th, h. king after the j gloomy house as well as she • dd. Sue) gazed pitifully at the beautiful child with the bright face. "It: will boa qms'rseme place for her te : grow up in, my lady." she said; "we moor > see the sight of a human face here from one year to another. Perhaps it will bo only for a time that you will stay here?” "It. will be for life," replied Lady Loanox sadly—“for life; but if heaven is good to us, that life will not last, long.” And Lady Leun >x found it even worse than the luud expivted and fcan'll. Just at first there was a glimmer of hope that something would happen- some source of i relief would be found; that glimmer of hope died, and the full sense of desolation came home to her at last. The only tiring that saved her from despiair was her little daughter; to teach her, to brighten the little life, to make herself a child for the chilli’s sake, was the only thing that kept her from the very madness of despair. As the mournful years passed without change, without event, she busied, herself thus, only waking at intervals to the consciousness that her daughter was rapidly becoming a beautiful girl, whale she herself seemed to grow more helpless and feeble every day. (To be continued. ) A Morbid Conscience. It is well, in seeking to imitate the apostle’s “exercise” to have always “a conscience void of offense,” to remeinber that the phrase was followed by two clauses: “toward God and toward men.” Augustus Hare, while a student at Oxford, met an undergraduate whose morbid conscience made him an oddity, amused his friends, and offended strangers. In the "Story of My Life,” Mr. Hare describes the man, called R., as follows: His arms and legs straggle away j from his body, and he holds his hands > up like a kan.g-a.roo. One day a man 1 sard to Lim, "How do you do, R.?” a,nd I he answered, "Quite well, thank you.” The next day the man was a.stonisb.ed at receiving from 11. the following note: “Dear S^r: I am sorry to tell you that I have been acting a deceptive part. When I told you'yesterday that I was quite well, I had really a headache; this has been uix>n my conscience ever since.” The note amused the man, whose name was Burton, ami he showed it to a friend, who, knowing H.’s weakness, said to him: “Oh, R., how could you act so wrongly as to call Mr. Burton ‘dear sir,’ thereby giving him the impression that you i liked him, when you know that you dislike him extremely?” 11. was .sadly distressed, and a few days later Mr. Burton received the following: “Burton, I am sorry to trouble you again, but I have been shown that, under the mask of friendship. I have been for the second time deceiving you: by calling you dear sir. I. may have led you to suppose I liked you, which I never did, a.nd never can do. I am, Burton, yours, etc.” The first mention of the pipe organ in history is in connection with Solomon’s Temple, where there was an organ with ten pipes.

LOGAN THE SOLDIER. HIS VALOR AND RESOLUTION IN DESPERATE CRISES. tV hen “Black Eacle” Charged the Battle Line Knew Not Fear—Chivalrons with Women, and the Unresting Friend of the Nation’s Veterans. Black Jack's Career. John Alexander Logan, one of nature's captains, was born in Jackson County, 111., Feb. 9, 1526. In a mighty dii ma he played a commanding role. When he had hung up his sword he was raised to a select group of his nation's statesmen, and there lie continued to sustain the respect that his blameless valor had won him on the bloody field. Named to sit beside Ilie head man of his countrymen, he led gallant charges in that civil campaign that shook the eventful summer of 1884, and, though umrwarded with vietory, be forfeited not the love and admiration of bis followers, who afterward saw with satisfaction their swarthy chieftain continued tn his s'atesman’s chair. With powers unabated for future high service he was suddenly called on the 2Gth of December, 1886, to exchange his toga for his shroud. These are the influential facts in John ^A. Logan's distinguished career: aTTc Tak- <Tf Ivish stock, his father emigrating from Ireland to Maryland, to i Kentucky, to Missouri, to Illinois. * Ho was educated at a common school, and by a tutor ami at Shiloh College. He served in the Mexican war and served well. After the Mexican war ho studied law. In 1851 he was graduated at Louisville Fniversity, admitted to the bar, and became partner of his uncle, Alexander M. ' Jenkins. He was now developing the gifts that made him a man to be chosen to lead. Therefore in Is.TJ and in ISSG he sat in the Illinois Legislature. He was also fleeted proseeuting attorney. In 1852 he removed to Benton, Frank- : lin County.

__ — — ——— __ 1 ^'' . ’ RSSK3Bb|^^^^ )\\ i; ; " ■ • i '< 'OK' s/^« >7'' -'■ ' Z .7'" iS^ Bw jKk ? '' R So^ wV7 ■ '■ p < >■ ' " >*--'•.' /' : '- ■ ' ■' ■ ■& < .. - ' ;i - ; ' ■ J --■ |,WL i, ' "... 'V* * ... /,.;. < . ... <■ F ' । < ^7 - ■ x > £ J j^7 /»lF / \ " 1 v^,' c —' <;r.XEKAB LOGAN AT TTIE BATTLE OF ATLANTA.

In 1856 he was a presidential eleetoi on the Buchanan and Breckinridge ticket. In 1858 as a Douglas Democrat he went io Congress. I n 1 BGO he went again. He was a Douglas man in the presidential year of ls<H but when he heard the South threatened trouble he said he would shoulder his musket to have Lincoln inaugurated. In July, ISGI. Lincoln had secession on his hands, ami Congress was in extra session. Troops were leaving ashington for the front. Logan quit the halls of Congress. chased the troops, grabbed a gun and stayed at Bull Run until there were extra good reasons for leaving the field. He returned to Illinois in August, resigned his seat in Congress, organized the Thirty-fiist Illinois, and was made its colonel, Sept. 13. He was at Belmont at the head of his own hot bayonets, ami lost a horse. He led his regiment at Fort Henry and Fort Donelson, at the latter assault getting a wound that disabled him for some time. March 5, 18G2, he became brigadiergeneral of volunteers, 'that summer the people at home said, "Come back. Logan, und run for ( uimn ss." ami I.o^an ri’ pin-d: "I have entered ibe field to die, if need be, for this Government, ami nevei Aexpect to return to peaceful pursuits unA?il the object of this war of preservation has become an established fact. In Grant's northern Mississippi campaign Logan commanded the third division of tits Seventeenth army corps under McPherson. He was made major general of volunteers Nov. 2G, 18G2. He fought at I’ort Gibson, Raymond, Jackson and Champion Hills. He commanded McPherson's center at Vicksburg and made the assault at the explosion of the mine. Uis column first entered the city, and lie was made its military- governor. In November, 18G3, he succeeded Sherman in command of the Fifteenth army corps. In ISGI he led the advance of the Army of the 'Tennessee at Resaca, repulsed Hardee at Dallas and drove the enemy from his line of works at Kenesaw Mountain. At Atlanta he succeeded McPherson, and saved Sherman from disaster. When Atlanta fell. Sept. 1. ISGI. Logan went home and took part in the presidential campaign, but. returned to Sherman and active service until Johnston surrendered, J.pril 2G, ISGS. May 23 he was appointed to the oommand of the Army of the Tennessee. The war over, he resigned his commission, saying he did not wish pay when not on active duty. I’r< sident Johnson appointed him minister to Mexico, but he declined the honor. In 18G6 he was elected as a Republican to the Fortieth Congress, and was a manager in the impeachment trial of President Johnson. He was elected to the Forty-first Con-

gross and worked well for the reduction of the army. lie was elected to the Forty-second Congress, but was chosen United States Senator before that Congress convened. He look bis seat March 4, 1871. He became chairman of the Committee on Military Affairs. He had filled the corresponding position in the House of the Fortj -first Congress. His term expired, he resumed the law in Chicago, but again was elected to the Senate to succeed Oglesby, and took his “ lw J -J LO IAN AS COLOXEI. OF 31ST ILLINOIS, dis First War Picture. seat in the extra session convening March 18, 1879. He was re-elected in 1885, after a memorable fight, signalized by the loyalty and endurance of Logan's faithful “103.” In the presidential convcn.tion of ISB4, in Chi'',igo, Logan received for President, l <m the first ballot, G.".^ votes, Blaine subi sequently being chosen. Logan was nom- ' inated for Vice-President, and with his associate vent down in the defeat out: of which arose Grover Cleveland. T*Oixan at Atlanta. ’lh<’ moment in (Jen. Loixnn’s enn'er । which the sculptor has chosen to depict jin the monument unveiled at Chicago is

when he took Gen. McPherson's com-; mand at the battle of Atlanta. This was one of the bloodiest battles of the war. It was July 22, 18G4. Hood had succeed- i cd Johnston in command of the Uont'cderate forces, and these were intrenched in j Atlanta. Gen. Sherman, however, believing that the enemy had evacuated the city, ordered .McPherson to move forward 1 in the direction of East Point and overtake the ('onfederates. Major Gen. Logan, commanding the Fifteenth army j corps, was ordered to press the enemy on ’ the left flank, while Gens. Schofield and Thomas wore to attack his right and i rear. McPherson soon discovered that j Sherman had been completely misled, and ; ordered la gan's troops to go into position | for battle. About noon, the firing having j become general all along the line by that i time, McPherson rode out almost alone to I observe the carrying out of his orders. Tn passing through a narrow bridle path he came upon a stray company of Confederates from Hardee's corps, lying down in

A- Z zZ rOUWSW^A UfLigp') -'^^z W/ ~ -s®^.^ -lAwjf^ <uc, w^g* & MEMBERS OF THE LOHAN FAMILY PRESENT AT THE DEDICATION.

the woods. The captain commanded. Me- ! Pherson three times to halt. McPherson, ! : supposing it to lie a detachment of his J own troops, with his usual courteous manner, lifted his hat. Immediately after ■ , perceiving his mistake, he wheeled his ; horse, was fired upon and killed. Gem Sherman at onee ordered Logan, : the next in rank, to take command. Never did a general on either side in the four years’ war display more superb qualities i <>f courage. He brought order out of- - and victory from defeat. The news i of McPherson’s death having spread. 1.0- ‘ gan rallied the troops with the cry: '’M>- t Pherson and revenge' - ’ Logan took com- ■ mand on that famous black stallion of hi . and became a. flame of fire and fury. He I was everywhere; his horse covered with j foam and himself hatless and begrimed ( with dust; perfectly comprehending the ■ ( position; giving sharp orders to officers as J . he met them, and planting himself firmly in front of fleeing columns, with revolver j in hand, threatening, in tones not to be ■ , mistaken, to fire into the advance did they i not instantly halt and form in order of : * battle. The battle was resumed in order j <

and with fury— a tempest of thunder and fire—a hailstorm of shot and shell. And when night closed down the battle was ended and the Federal troops were masters of the field. Some of the regiments that went into that sanguinary conflict came out with but thirty men, and one which vent in in the morning with 200 —the Twentieth Illinois —came out with but fifteen! As Logan appeared at tfie battle of Atlanta so he appeared in al! the conflicts in which he participated during the wa-. He was the idol of the common soldier; whenever he vas seen galloping recklessly in the most exposed positions, his long locks floating in the wind, the men set up a cry of “Logan, Logan; we'll follow where the Black Eagle leads!” Care for His Men. Dr. Holer was with Gen. Logan during the entire war. He declares that one of Logan's marked characteristics was his care for his men. During battle he expected them to tight, to dare anything which promised vietory. At other times no commander could have been more attentive to questions of food, shelter and hospital care. Dr. Holer relates an example of this which occurred at Huntsville, Ala. The arm.v spent two or three months there in winter quarters. Logan was popular even with the Southerners there because of his fairness and geniality. One of the Union generals, now dead, was known to sympathize strongly with the enemy, although in I'eilerai uniform. 1 his general ami his staff bad been quartered in a large mansion in the outskirts of the town. It belonged to a Southern i gentleman to whom that particular general was much attached. He promised that when he ami his staff retired the house should not be ocupied further by the army. When the time came to move, however, there were many sick and wounded to be left behind. The only available house suitable fora hospital was the old gentleman's mansion. Dr. Holer called on Logan and related the circumstanees. Logan at once said: “When it comes to a conflict between our friends and our wounded soldiers, I'll take the part of the wounded," and immediately ordered the house to be used for hospital purposes.

As an instance of his unfailing courtesy to the enemy, and (“specially to women and children, Major Mitchell, one of Logan's old staff officers and a Board of 'Trade man now in Chicago, relates the folowing incident: “When the army was encamped at Huntsville a Southern woman, whose husband and sons were in the Confederate army, applied to I.ogan for protection. She lived alone with her two daughters, and was afraid that the family might be molested in some way. Logan at once stationed a guard at her house and kept it there until the army moved. Logan never could resist the appeal of the old soldier. After the bitter campaign Os 1881 an old volunteer, lame and broken in health, presented himself before the general one evening. He preferred a reqiiest, compliance with which would have placed Logan in the position of an applicant for favor from the administration. Much agitated at the old man’s r.tory, the general at last exclaimed stormily:

“I have never asked a political favor from this administration and 1 never will.” The poor volunteer stole out of the room abashed and disappointed. After half an hour the storm bt gan to ab to in Logan's mind. lie rose ar I s -.i l to Mrs L gan as he w nt out: ‘’Mary, I can a-k r ithingi thi- adr nist ration m; - If, but I've- got ti do s me sbopf. ;_ht.” JI put. into ex cut; n a w. n w^' 1 S' n brought his comrade all th. t asked. Luncheon in Two Courses. The bicyle club held a pi<-: ;c in the River Hotiom Park m wh-dncsJay evening. Lunch consist ■’ principally of onions and garlic.—Martinsville Post. The peat bogs of Great Britain and Ireland are estimated to be the heatequivalent to nearly 4,000,'.'00,000 tons of coal.