St. Joseph County Independent, Volume 23, Number 2, Walkerton, St. Joseph County, 31 July 1897 — Page 6

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CHAPTER IV. It was a brilliant morning. A rich am^er light lay on the loeh, a soft, golden iriUto p verspread _t Jie hills; the long ' _„ sen shone white in the sun; ^»W®^^re humming over the purple *' — ‘^''wreathor and the golden gorse; the lovely (water lilies glistened white in the sun; all •the ambient air was tilled with perfume, (the first soft freshness of morning smiled lover the kind. A little boat was fastened Ho the trunk of a tree that grew close to ithe water’s edge. In the fragrant silence of the summer tmorni-ng 'there came a faint sound of mel•edy. It was a woman's voice, clear, full ,of music, with an undertone of passion, His though an imprisoned soul found its [vent in song. From the dark glade beHween the hills the voice came sweet and •thrilling. The singer emerged from the darkness •of the mountain gorge into the full light of the sun. She looked like the queen of mountain and lake. It was “Prince OharRie’s” daughter—the child who had been named after the Beatrix’Lennox who had 'won a icing’s heart—Beatrix Lennox, a ■child no longer, but a girl in the full superb promise of magnificent womanhood—a girl of rare and dazzling loveliness. The girl walked to the boat, and, unfastening it, jumped into it, then taking the sculls in her hands, she rowed rapidly across the blue waters of the loch. She •lowed swiftly across the lake, watching •the light, feathered spray as it fell from •the sculls; then, when the other’ side of (the loon was gained, she secured the boat, •took from, it a volume that she had brought with her and sat down on the slope of the heathery hill. Finally she threw aside her book; with ■the sun shining on the waters of the lake, ion the broad stretch of purple heather, on the golden gorse, on the distant hills, Show could she read ? “Prince Charlie’s” ■daughter had a poet's soul. Keenly alive •to all beauty, loving it with passionate Sove, she inherited the bright, quick fanfcy, the brilliant, vivid, poetic imagina■tion of her dead father. She looked around ;her, and then with a sigh of perfect content sank back upon the heather. “My mother talks of drawing rooms and [boudoirs; I am sure that no room made by [man could be one-half so beautiful as this ispot made by heaven. Who would exjehange the purple heather for a carpet, ;or this grand chain of hills for the walls iof a room that shuts out the blue sky and Ithe fresh ear? Sometimes I wish that 'these thills would close up together, so [that we could never cross them, nor leave jtheir midst.” ' She turned her face to where the long ®ine of distant sea lay white in the sun. •Then the sound of a bell tinkling across Ithe lake aroused her. She sprang up with •a smile from the heather. The bell rang again. Beatrix sculled ■nerself across the lake, secured the boat, wnd hastened quickly through the dark ihill-gorge. Before her lay the Grange. ’The very sight of the ruined 1 house seem>ed to warm the girl’s heart as she looked. [The leaves of the scarlet creeper fell on [her in a Shower as she passed through the ruined gateway. In the courtyard lay a •broken sundial, and a fountain, long dry, istood in the center. The ruin and deso'iation did not affect her; she murmured isome words as she passed by the broken [sundial, and turned to look at it, and [then a low voice called “Beatrix.” A warm flush—evidently one of pleasure—came over the girl’s face. “Yes, mamma,” she replied; but in the done could be easily detected love, respect, ■obedience, devotion, sympathy. She passed quickly through the dark entrance hall and entered the only habitable room on that, side of the house. There sat Lady Lennox, who looked up ,as she entered. “I grew lonely without you, Beatrix, ilt is not dinner time yet, but I rang the bell. The whole house seems to grow so dark while you are away.” “I wish you would come out with me, mamma^B would forget all about your asorry^g* before you had been cue hour ^^^pSJongst the heather. Troubles .tade in light of the sun.” “The sunshine does not affect granite trocks,” sighed Lady- T.rnnox; “and my sorrows are so durable that they might ■have been carved in granite, Beatrix. I ■wish, my darling, that I could be a brighter companion for you.” The girl looked up with bright, flashing eyes. “When have you heard me complain, mamma?” she asked. “I am happy enough.” “It is such a dreary life for you,” the mother said, looking at the magnificent face and figure. “I never wish to leave here,” was the reply. “It seems to me, mamma, that I Ivave found the true philosopher’s stone. I am content. Lady Lennox sighed as she looked round her and thought of the recherche -repasts, the grand banquets, the costly wines and rare fruits that she had been uccustomed to. She was growing tired .^f salmon and wild duck. But Beatrix made no demur; the simple homely meal, cooked in homely fashion, was a banquet to her. She waited upon her mother, devoting herself to her and cheering her with her chatter. Lady Lennox forgot her troubles, and said to herself that after all in the love of her beautiful daughter she was happier than most people. CHAPTER V. A newspaper at the Grange wa.s a novelty, a rarity, a treasure of great worth. Lady Lennox never purchased one; but, if by accident one came wrapper round * parcel, every word of it was read. It

did not matter how old it was or what news it contained, it was always a novelty to her. Lady Lennox found one thus 1 one day—it was a copy of the Times. > “This will be a treat,” she thought, as 1 she opened it carefully. It was but one month old. For the first time for many months Lady Lennox • read of Prussia and France, Holland and Belgium, read of the queen of the royal family, of the marriage of some whose names she knew, and of the death of others. She read one or two trials at law which interested her; and then she glanced at the advertisements. Suddenly, with a little startled cry, Lady Lennox rose from her seat and went nearer to the window, as though the lig*ht would help her to understand. She read, re-read, and then sank back upon her chair, breathless with surprise and wonder. The words which had moved her so greatly were these: “Information wanted as to the whereabouts of Lady Lennox, widow of the late Col. Lennox of Erceldean. The advertiser, having sought vainly both in England and Scotland for news of this lady, would be grateful to any one who could assist him in finding her.” Lady Lennox looked at the address; it was, “P. L., care of Messrs. Gunter & Smith, Solicitors, Temple, London.” Siu* began to reflect that after all the advertisement might have been inserted with a view to something else beside her husband’s debts —indeed it might have proceeded .from some one anxious to repay that which her husband had lent or given —money enough, perhaps. to lessen the hardships she and her daughter were undergoing. Her heart beat so painfully at the thought that she coal'd hardly bear it. “I will answer the advertisement myself,” she thought, “and say nothing to Beatrix about it, lest there should l>e a great disappointment in store." The letter she wrote was brief enough; it ran as follows: “The wife and daughter of the late Col. Lenmox are living in the greatest poverty at S t ratlin arn Grange, near Ersedale, in the north of Scotland. Lady Lennox, who writes this, will be pleased to hear from j.uy friend.” A w^ek pussod uo letter eame; ami the mistress of St ratlin am said to herself that she must have been the dupe of a cruel jest. One morning Beatrix sat down to the piano; the sunlight fell on her fair proud face with its imperial tenderness, on the graceful figure and delicate hands, hhe had just begun the first bars of what seemed to be a very beautiful melody, when the sound of a carriage driving up to the entrance was heard. Lady Lennox grew pale as she listened. Was it—could it be the answer to her letter come at last? “It is a carriage, Beatrix'” she exclaimed. Both ladies sat quite silent, looking at each other in the greatest consternation. They heard the sound of a masculine voice—a deep rolling voice—talking to Margaret, and Margaret’s trembling treble in reply. Then, in a state of great excitement, Margaret opened the doer. “My lady,” she cried, “such a thing has not happened these twelve years—a gentleman has come to see you!” Early training stood Lady Lennox in good stead now; she controlled her exeitement and spoke calmly: “Show the gentleman in, Margaret.” “I have taken the liberty of following this good woman, who seems to have almost lost her senses,” said the same deep bass voice; and, looking up. Lady Lennox saw a tall, slight, elderly man with irongray whiskers and iron-gray hair, a hard cold, determined-looking man, yet with something in his face that made her heart beat wildly, she knew not why. He stood at the door, bowing deferentially, yet with keen, shrewd, observant eyes that took in everything. That same instant, had he been questioned, he conk! have told the color of the ladies’ hair and eyes, the color of their dresses; yet he seemed engrossed in themselves. “Pray enter, sir,” said Lady Lennox, with old-fashioned grace and courtesy. The stranger advanced, hat in hand and bowing. ”T presume I have the honor of addressing Lady Lennox, widow of the late Col. Lennox of Erceldean?” he said. “The very words of the advertisement!” thought her ladyship, growing paler. She answered with quiet dignity: “I am Lady Lennox, sir.” Then he looked at the beautiful girl in the radiant-dress of purple and gold. He looked at the fair, bewitching face, and a strange light shone in his eyes. “It is a Lennox face,” he said in a low voice, “a true Lennox face.” “This is my daughter,” announced Lady Lennox, “my only child, Beatrix Lennox, who should have been heiress of Ereeldean.” “Exactly. I am very happy indeed to see you. Lady Lennox. When I tell you that I have spent six months in looking for you, I wonder if you would guess who I am?” “No,” was the wondering response. “Have you strong nerves?” he asked. “Are you given to fainting, hysterics or anything of that kind?” “No,” replied Beatrix sternly. “So much the better —I know that I shall surprise you. I am Peter Lennox, who was believed long years ago to have boon drowned- —Peter the gauche, the awkward, the unlucky, the ne'er-do-well— Peter, the disgrace to the family—Peter, who was never cared for, except by his brother Charles. And now I am Peter Lennox, the millionaire. Have you a welocurua for me?”

CHAPTER VI. Lady Lennox was the first to break the silence that fell uixm the little group. She raised %er colorless face to his. “Are you quite sure,” she said, “that there is no mistake? My husband always told me his brother Peter was dead.” “I am alive enough,” was the quick reply. When the Ormolia went down, most of those on board sank with her. I swam away from the vessel, and, being a capital swimmer, contrived to keep up until I was rescued by an English ship outward bound. I went with that ship to China, and' —well, 1 never cared to return home. No one cared for me at Erceldean, and I knew my money would be useful to Charlie.” His voice faltered for one halfminute. and then he went on. “I let them all believe that I was dead. What could it matter? 1 should never see home or any of them again. Now, Lady Lennox, look at me and tell me—do you believe, that I am your husband's brother?” “I believe it, mamma,” said the clear voice of Beatrix. “I can trace the Lennox features in the gentleman's face.” "Thank you,” returned Peter Lennox. “That is-the first compliment I have ever received on the score of personal beauty. Still the Lennox .features are good.” “You have a trace of them,” said frank Beatrix, “without the beauty.” Peter Lennox laughed, his sister-in-law looked alarmed. She held out her hands in greeting to him. He kissed them and seemed to be greatly pleased. * “ rimnk you. Those are the first words of welcome I have heard,” he told hey. “I am glad that fh-ey have come from my sister. Now let me make friends with my niece.” He held out his hands to Beatrix, who shyly gave him hers. "And now," inquired Peter Lennox, “may 1 feel at home?" He looked up suddeiily at Lidy Lennox. "I have startled you," he said. "You tremble; you tire quite pale. I am too abrupt—you must pardon me." He it-d Lady Lennox to the little conch near the window and placed Iter on it. "1 can hardly believe my sen«e«,” she told him. “M e have been so long deserted, and now it seems as though we had found a friend.” "I am a true friend,” said her brother-in-law, “but we will talk of that afterwanl. Do you know that thousands of miles away from Ixmny Scotland 1 read of my brother's marriage to Ai'sa Graeme, and that I have Isen longing to set you ever since? I have l>een a hard, stern, cold man ail my life. 1 have devoted myself to one thing, anti have cared for nothing else. Years ago I learned that money was power. In the new world, where I am better known than here, they call mo Peter Lsnnox, the millionaire!” "I am glad that yon have succeeded,” said Lady Lennox gently. "is, success is the very wine of life. I thought that I can'd for nothing else but rnm-ey; yet, of late, something has been pulling at my heart-strings something has stirred up faint memories of home. Three years ago 1 im in New York someone who had known my brother < aari:e. He gave me all his history, and to-id me how he had b. en courted by the noblest of the land ’Prince t’hariie? they called him. Lheard she story of his ruin, of his sudd« n d< ath, of the loss of the old home, Erceldean, and a new ambition entered my heart. 1 said that I would go back home, that I would <■ d- _ out Truwe u^uarwe s wile ami cami. uiltt 1 would purchase Ereiddean. and n store the glories of the house of Lmnox.” I.ady Lennox clasped her hands, and words of unutterable thanksgiving went up from her heart. Beatrix stmid pale and trembling, her dark ey. s tix< d < n her uncle's face. "You mnd not remain here another day," said Peter Lennox. "1 have taken a house in Lvndon a mansion, 1 .-hon'd say. it is already fitted up and decorated, as the am-tioneers say, in the most complete and charming fashion. Seriously, it is one of the finest houses in the metrop-olis—-and it is quite ready for you." “In Lmdvn?" cried Lady Lennox. “I can hardly realize it! Heaven has heard my prayer at last!” “Landon?” repeated Beatrix, with a look of dismay. "Oh, mamma, shall we leave mountain and loch for a city full of men ?” Neither of them noticcsl the dismay, the dread in her voice; they were engros-sed in their own plans. “I have lived for one object.” said Peter Lennox, “and I shall accomplish it yet. I shall buy back Erceldean, and make It once more the irome of our race. I am willing to give double the prie»‘ that it was sold for. I want, to restore it to more t han its ancient grandeur; I want to live there with you. sister, and Beatrix shall once more 1 e heiress of Erceldean. With the beauty heaven has given her, and the gold with which I shall endow her, s'he can marry any one; the gt'eatest peer in England will be' on I !j’ too proud to make her his wife.” Lady I.ennox looked anxious. "Beatrix marry! I am afraid, Peter, we sh ill have trouble over that; she does not like men.” “H ive no fear,” Peter Lennox laughed; “the fire in those dark eyes of hers will Tight a flame that even she will not l>e able rn extinguisih. The only thing we shall have to do will be to exercise care, for it. strikes me that when she does love there will be no half-heartedness_ about ft.” Time proved that he was right. (To be continued.) Roast Beef. The best pieces for roasting are the sirloin and rib pieces. These are expensive and have more or less waste. A rump roast is more economical, in that it has no bones or other waste. Wipe the meat, rub over with salt, then with flour, amd place in the pain, xvith no water. If the meat is liked rare, have the oven very hot at first and gradually reduce the heat. If liked well done, have the oven moderate and cook a longer time. Allow twelve minutes to the poi Mid, if hiked rare. When smlneientlv cooked, rem-ove to the serving platter, and add two sups of hot ■water to the juice of the meat in the roa.stiißig pan, amd thickfin witli two tablespoonfuls of flour wet smooth in a little cold water, salt anal pour in the gravy boat amd send to the table as “gravy.” Australia has found it ispossible to abate the rabbit plague. In New Soutn Wales alone 7,000,000 acres of iMid have been abandoned and $5,000,009 spent. Tile ouly plan that has »ny good effect is wire netting, and of this 15,000 miles have been used.

HONOk TOBLACKJACK MAGNIFICENT LOGAN STATUE UNVEILED IN CHICAGO. Grand Demonstration in Honor of America’s Greatest Volunteer Soldier—Ceremonies Marked by a Great Parade of Veterans. , i)„ Locan in Bronze. Lmcago cor, espondenca: Illinois has paid tribute to the last of the great triumvirate she gave to the nation when the nation's life was at stake. A shaft at Springfield marks the grave of Lincoln, the martyred President. A inagnificent monument at Galena tells that from that city went forth Grant, the silent tanner, who became the great military chieftain. Now, in enduring bronze, the figure of Logan, the greatest of American volunteer soldiers, stands on the lake fiont in Chicago. With a great demonstration which, like the recent Grant commenioration in New York, was one not of sorrow and mourning, but of glory and joy, the monument to Logan was unveiled • Thursday. This was the anniversary of the battle of Atlanta, fought in 1864, at which Logan reached the summit of his military fame. The-een-mony ww«-ai>rf>m!>lished in the of a multitude notable in its sacJVs ? <nd with a magnificence of detail quitb unprecedented. On the platform at the the statue was grouped a company that no event of less importance could have called’ together. The widow of the dead general, army officers who served with him through the war, Governors of States, members of President McKinley's cabinet and United States Senators sat in the shadow of St. Gauden’s heroic statue and took part in the exercises. In the throng that listened to Mr. Peck’s oration were many of the leading citizens of the nation and in those greater multitudes along the line of march wore thousands of Chicago residents together with other thousands from every quarter of the country. The city has rarely been so profusely decorated. It was not alone from public buildings that bunting had been flung to the breeze, but business houses and pri- i vate residences in every section of the city shared in the general display. Presi- ' dent McKinley could not attend in person; his duties in Washington during the closing hours of Congress rendered such a step impracticable. It was well on to 2 o’clock when a boyish figure aiose out of a forest of serried row on row of people. The sun was tangled In his hair and on his face, almost girlish in its youthful beauty, there rest- ) ed such an expression as might be expected upon the countenance of a lad of 5

w Im i JOHN ALEXANDER LOGAN.

years entrusted with a great responsibility. One moment he stood there outlined against the placid background of lake and sky, and then made a sudden gesture with his right arm. Up the silken cord that hid the rugged features of the warrior statesman from thousands of expectant ones there went a thrill and a quiver, a cloth fell to the base of the monument and there was no longer any reasqn for the immense throng to refrain from feasting its eyes on the surpassing beauties of the apotheosis in bronze of all y^^t-Was martial, an time who m...:.. ; * Xa" b Mil WllK sins. JOHN A. LOGAN. In the inspiring presence of the Black Eagle. The uncovering of the statue was the signal for a chorus of thirteen guns to growl forth approbative thunder, and, as the windows round about rattled in their casements a castanet accompaniment, smaller pieces of ordnance took up the warlike strain and grizzled veterans, burned by unsparing suns almost to the color of the bronze counterfeit of their once resistless leader, recalled his valor-

7-- — i Ik 1 ■ ' • I J wife 111 ■is Mk LOGAN MONUMENT AT CHICAGO.

ous attitude before Atlanta on another July day, thirty-three years ago, when, j with tears in his eyes, he saw his men ■ mowed down by desperate Southrons like : ripened wheat before the reapers, and, a I hundred times at death's portals, a huni dred times eluded on his black 'charger the pale equestrian of the fates. . Or they may have been reminded of that other day at bloody Belmont, when, his horse shot beneath him. be carved his way through a seemingly impenetrable wall of bone and sinew to a decisive victory, but at a fearful cost to his own boys, not less brave than their fierce antagonists. Be these things as they may.’tears stood in the eyes

of some whose lids had for years remained unwetted, and on the^faces of others a faraway expression, glorifying and illuminating them, rested. The parade was reviewed by Mrs. Logan, Captain John A. Logan and wife, John A. Logan 111., whose tiny hand loos&d the drapery and unveiled the figure in bronze; by Major and Mrs. William F. Tucker, the latter a daughter of the hero of Atlanta; by members of President McKinley’s cabinet, and other distinguished guests of the city. Besides these the reviewers lueluded; CS w o f ypj. noia, Gov. Holcomb of Nebraska. Gov. Drake of lowa, Gov. James A. Mount of Indiana, Gov. Atkinson of West Virginia, Gov. Seofield of Wisconsin, Secretary of War* It. A. Alger and Mrs. Alger, exSenator D. M. Sabin of Minnesota, Archbishop John Ireland of St. Paul, Lord Breadaibane of England, Gov. Barnes of Oklahoma. The two brothers of Gen. Logan—Thomas M. Logan of Murphysboro, 111, John A. Logan's birthplace, and James A'. Logan of Olney, 111., occupied places of honor. There were besides hundreds of men and women who had known | the general in life and who had come to pay their tribute of honor to his momery. Twenty Thousand Soldiers. In the column which swept away from Twelfth street and Michigan avenue at 3 o'clock were more than twenty thousand soldiers under arms, the whole commanded by Gen. John It. Brooke. The regular service, the National Guard and various uniformed semi-military organizations were generously represented. And no body of marchers has ever presented- In Chicago a more inspiring sight. In dress, in arms, in bearing and in the masterful methods of control they were one of the most interesting features of the entire event.. It would be impossible to exaggerate the interest and enthusiasm which from first to last marked the proceedings. The bugle call of “assembly” with which the formal exercises were opened struck a keynote that expressed the military tern-

per of the day; and not an incident in speech or song or action proved a discord. Thousands of heads bent low while Rev. Dr. Arthur Edwards prayed. YVhen he had finished the band played martial music that stined the old soldiers present to the depths of their souls. The selection was "-Battle Scenes of the War,” In w hich the patter of musketry, the screaming of shells, the cooing of bullets and the grumbling of cannon all were imitated. Judge Henry W. Blodgett, president of the board of monument commissioners, presented the statue to the State of Illi- • nois in well-chosen phrases, and the unveiling followed. Gov. Tanner accepted the statue on behalf of the people of the State in a brief address, and George R. Peck delivered an oration which quite outran his already splendid reputation. Y'cars bonce, when the clustering curls of the youngest John A. Logan shall have become w hitened by the rime of many winters, ho, no longer least in age of the namesakes of the cyclonic general, will gather ether John A. Logans about him and tell them of that wonderful July day in Chicago when by a movement of his tiny hand ho^bared the greatest triumph 4 I . + ” * h ® eager gaze of a patriotic multitude. In warlike bronze the man of battle, annointed with fire and smoke, and the shadow of impending death, has been ani nointed with libations of praise and given j to unborn generations, who are bidden to" cherish and honor the mime of John A. Logan. YVith military and civic pomp the people of the nation united to do honor to the hero of Atlanta. The son of Illinois, who seized th^ fallen standard and rode through Ahe hail of bullets, rallying the broken troops and turning defeat to victory has been praised by statesmen and honored by the presence of a fourth of the nation’s standing army. A Heroic Ficnre. The statue, which is the tribute of the State, cost $50,000. The contract for it was made with Augustus St. Gaudens ten years ago and he was told to take his time and make the statue his masterpiece. He selected as the scene to be depicted' that moment during the battle of Atlanta, when Logan took command of the Army of the Tennessee. Readers of history, know that this engagement, on the banks of Peach Tree creek, was one of the bloodiest of the war. Brave Gen. McPherson was in command when the battle opened. Within an hour he had fallen. The Union lines had been split, the flank had been turned and Hood’s eager legions were rolling up the Army of the Tennessee like a scroll. Then a wild figure burst on the vision of the disheartened men in blue. “Black Jack” Logan dashed aJong the lines. Waving a ragged battle flag snatched from' thMhand of a color bearer, with head uncovered, his long black hair streaming in the wind, with eagle-like features Illumined by the fire of resolve, and driving spurs into his horse, he looked the very personification of victorious w r ar. At his word the lines were reformed. Hood was beaten back. Seven thousand men fell on either side, but the victory was with the Union. That is the scene JOHN A. LOGAN 111. depicted by the sculptor for this monument —the supreme moment when Logan headed the Army of the Tennessee and reining back his horse, gave the order which saved the battle. The statue is of heroic size and mounted on a base rising 24 feet above the level of Michigan avenue. Maj. Perley, the well-known Canadian rifleman, died of bronchitis at Bisley. Eng.