Indianapolis News, Indianapolis, Marion County, 25 December 1883 — Page 2

THE INDIANAPOLIS NEWS, TUESDAY, DECEMBER 25,1883.

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The Indianapolis News to published every afternoon, except Sunday, at,the offloe. No. 30 West Washington street. Price, two cents a Copy. Served by carriers In any part of the city, Sen cents a week. By mall, postage prepaid. SO oenta a month, $6 a year. For sale In New York by Brentano Brothers, Union Square. Washington—Kbbitt House news stand. Advertisements, lint page, one cent a word for each Insertion; nothing lees than ten words counted. Display advertisements vary In price according to time and position. No AnrsannxnrrB nuxarKO as kditorux surra. Specimen numbers sent free on application. Terms, cash. Invariably In advance. All communications should be addressed to Jou H. Holudat * Co., Proprietors.

THE DAILY NEWS

TUESDAY, DECEMBER .5. 1883.

Presidential chatter still keeps up. Lucky will he be who Isn’t talked about. He will be bleesed with those of whom not much is expected, and can do as he pleases. The Chicago Inter-Ocean Is quoting a plank from the democratic platform of 1831 as a reason why that party shouldn’t succeed In 1884. This certainly looks like a very desperate case of desperation.

McDonald and Slocum is Senator Beck’s Idea of a good presidential ticket for his party. The pnzzle remains unanswered what "Joe’' McDonald has ever done, or said, or been, to indicate him as the one man out of 50,000,0(10 for president.—[Boston Herald, The Herald has made several such befogged Inquiries and we enlightened it once or twice. The third time we simply say, •*wait and see. ,> Th* Chicago Tribune the other day gravely printed the poem “The Beautiful Snow” M “written for the Chicago Tribune by Q. W. How.’* The Tribune’s stupid contemporaries took it so much to their Indignant hearts and came out and exposed the imposter so* wltherlngly, that like many another better man, Artemus Ward, for example, the Tribune had to come out and say, “this Is agoak.” There Is snow enough abroad to make it m very merry Christmas in appearance and It is to be hoped it will be in fact everyWhere. One wise man remarks that “it is a good thing Santa Claus wasn’t born twins.” He thinks two celebrations would be too ynuch for him. It might be too much for •11 of us. But we have only one so let us enjoy ft heartily, thankfully, and may we all jhavs many more of them!

The house committees are at last parcelled out with perhaps more than the ordinary amount of satisfaction, and about the average amount of grumbling. One or two like Mr. Cox and Mr. Springer, who have a lurking feeling that their right ;to certain committees to hereditary, are a little disgruntled Lut on the whole, it to as merry a Christmas as need be. The ways and means committee and the appropriation committee, of course, like all are to be Judged more by performance than promise. But they both promise torsU. When the holidays are passed It to to be hoped that solid work will be settled Upon and satisfactorily executed.

The sleighing season in New York opened *rtth the recent snow in a whirl of gaiety. The Bloomingdale road was alive with all Ike fashionable world on runners. Among them none attracted more attention than t/. 8. Grant, Jr. His turnout was a Rnsalan teaftky. The driver’s seat was Ugh above

the main body of the sleigh, which sits oa low, solid runners. Three white Arabian stallions were harnessed abreast in true Bussi on style, and they, aa well as the dashboard of the sleigb, were decorated with flowing plumes of blue and gold. Hundreds of other sleighs similiar in description with bus a single team each, being decorated with plumes aad having chimes of bells, formed s long procession. And yet it to sometimes —id,“Republics are ungrateful.” This one surely hasn’t been when It extended all its honors to the head of the house of Grant, and its private citixena aided to establish him In s moneyed esse, that he and his can enjoy all the good things of life. An interesting point was brought out in a recent inquest upon the body of a freight train brakeman who was killed cn the Boston A Albany railroad, being struck by .one of the bridges. The testimony showed that as bridges and ears are now a “freight” brakeman most “duck” for his life, and sometimes lie down to keep from being struck by bridges. Plainly, either freight cars are too high or bridges too low. The deaths in this way the country over for s year are very many, and they are too much like cold blooded butchery. We should like to see the railroads, or any of them, take action for removing the cause of of this butchery. “Freight” brakemen have a hard enough time at any season of the year; in the w inter especially, clambering over the Icy and snowy cars and running on snowy tracks and ties, the risks and hardships that can not be avoided are many .enough, without those low-bridge death traps to sweep an unwary fellow into eUrally at once, or eventually, after a life of sickness and pain.

Indiana has been disgraced by another murder at the hands of a mob, Pike county this time wheeling into the line of infamy. The victim was Charles Harvey who had murdered Henry Custln, of Petersburg, last week. One account says there have been six murders in Pike county in the last few years, and in nearly every case the cnlprit escaped with light punishment, which fact accounts for the mob taking the law into their own hands. That is very vague; one doesn’t know how many a “few” is. But let it be very many,it doesn’t account for the mob taking the law (sic) into its own hands. If the courts and juries and law administration are bad let them be changed. Haven't the people of Pike county ability aud virtue enough to govern themselves without resorting to murder? They need badly to change their officers of law. The sheriff who had charge of this prisoner and who was sworn by bis oath of office to keep him safely, “after a show of resistance,” the account says, “gave up the keys.” There Is the rub! The officer of the law, the sheriff, goes with lawlessness sufficiently to at once deliver up his prisoner without so much as putting one hair of his own cowardly head in danger. A mob is a cos ardly assemblage, acting on impulse, and not ou judgment, with little or no organization, aud there isn’t a sheriff aud his turnkeys who, if they said plainly that the mob would have to shed their blood before they did their prisoner’s, who wouldn’t save their own lives, their prisoner's, and the majesty of the law. It Is because sheriffs, as a rule, are cowards, and are tinctured with a lawless disregard of their oaths of office, and juries, and judges, too, sometimes have the trail of the same serpent over them, that the reign of violence is coming rapidly in.

There is a singular turn in the Emma Bond trial. Miss Bond swore positively to the identification of one of her assailants. The state has introduced damaging evidence against the defendant, and strengthened its own case. The defendant has introduced no testimony to weaken this, and yet there has been a change of public sentiment from a condition In which it was moved to lynch the defendants, to a feeling of sympathy with them. The Idea is promulgated that detective Page is responsible for the whole trouble; that he was after the money in the case, aud didn’t care if twenty men were hung; so, Independent of the question of the guilt of the defendants, and in the face of the fact that the evidence now standing against the accused men is stronger than it ever was before, this sort of talk may be beat d among those who hare been persistently clamoring for blood. This exhibition is worthy of study and reflection. It demonstrates if any thing were needed for such demonstration, the utter worthlessness of public opinion in a case like this which so much and almost entirely appeals to excited feelings and not judgment. Strong at first is the clamor for mob work on men suspected of a horrible assault on a woman. Now that assault Is practically proven as it stands. The people who clamored for the lives of these men have a vast deal more evidence of their crime now than they had when they were ready to hang them to the first tree, and yet because some city detective has been an active agent In ferreting out the evidence, feeling turns clean about,turns its back on evidence and out of sheer loyalty to locality actually aides with ravlshers rather than commend ~the professional instinct that has hunted them out. How plainly does this show the utter injustice of a mob. Talk of mob law! There to no law about it; it is sheer murder—the taking of life to gratify a passing whim of passion. Shakespeare understood the human heart pretty well, and his picture of mobocracy in Anthony’s oration over Cesar’s body to a picture as true for the locality of the Emma Bond case as it was for Rome.. Could any thing call plainer than this for an enforcement of law, rigidly in justice, utterly Independent of what “public opinion” maybe? All law goes with the general drift of public opinion. Fix' instance yon can’t have a law of hanging for murder unless general public opinion puts it on the statute book. But once there the plainer lesson we all moat need to that that law shall be rigidly executed as made and provided according to the evidence, with no regard for the local claipor Qpucertilng the

Few Cm Be Both. (ESIsoa.1 It requires at much ingenuity to make moeey out of an invention as to make the inventions.

BK BID NOT CO. I remember my surprise when the quaint little sign first attracted my attention. I stopped to look at It mormauentirely. I'll make your shoe As good A* New « better to. J. Rogers, Cobbler. I read it once, twice, three times, till it began to ehaae itself around In my head, like a cat after her own tail. I was fasci-

llttle brain If a voice had not cried ou’: “Wal, little girl, how do you like my new sign?” Don’t you call that first-clasa poetry?” “Yes, It’s very nice poetry,” I answered. And then I went on boldly: “Bat I see a word in it that isn’t spelled right.” “Not spelled right? How’s that? I shall have to hobble out and take a look at it. You’re a pretty noticin’ little critter, ain’t

yer?”

I hinted that this soit of “too” was usually spelled with two o’s; bat Mr. Rogers looked hard at the word over his spectacles, and did not seem to think favorably of the

change.

“1 tell ye wha^” tail he Cndly, -Tve got a way, and no spellin’ about It. What’s spellin’ as long "S folks catch yer Idee? The idte's what yer can’t get along with-

out.”

Saying which Mr. Rogers took his fist to the object!* nalle “to” and wrote triumphantly in Its place a huge figure 2. I felt bellied and helpless and went home with a vague sense that I had left Mr. Rogers’s sign much worse than I had found It. It (till pursued me, however, aud at dinner I

said suddenly:

“Mamma, don’t you want my shoe as^ood

as new, and better, too?”

“Bless me!” said my grandmother, “what ails the child? She isn’t beginning so early

to be a poet, to she?”

“Oh, no,” cried my father, “I guess she’s been reading old John Rogers’s sign. Wife, it to a cmioslty. You must goby tnere. We must send him down some old shoes. You know be broke his leg last winter, and he’s trying to work again. We must give him a So it was that n?xt morning I found myself again before the distracting sign, this time with a large bundle of old shoes in my arms. I lifted the latch and stepped Into

the little shop.

“I declare for’t If heie ain’t a rush of business,” said Mr. Rogers, as he opened my bundle. “One pair o’ copper-toes. Them your little brother’s? Congress, with the lastic give out. Guess that’s yer grandmotbet’s. And here’s o le o’ yer pa’s boots,

with & nice handsome hole it it.”

“And I’d like to buy some shoe-strings, too,” I put in, feeling myself a patron of

con siderable importance,

them copy ialf an hour,

and wait! I ain't such a great talker, but I like somebody to speak to once in a while. There’s the cat. I talk to her. She will look very knowing, but the mlnnte my back’s turned she’s fast asleep. That ain’tflattcriu’,

yer see, and I stop.”

I sat down, and while I listened used my eyes as well. The sunlight fought its way through the dusty window frames, aud diffused Itself Impartially over the floor, with its wide, dirt tilled cracks. The decoration of these walls was of an humble order; although by no means uninteresting. In the first place, there huge auction bills, in stage of yellowness and dirt. My gram mother kept an obituary scrap book; but, as I afterward found out, it was Mr. Rogers’ practice to cherish the auction bills of hit departed ftiends. Amos Beldon had peacefully slept with his fathers for thirteen years or more, but In J. Rogers’ shop it was still proclaimed, In giant type, tbat he wished to sell “ten tailch cows and six healthy year-

lings.”

Nor was this all. Ten years ago a misguided showman had come to our little town and had solemnly retreated the next day, with more experience than profits, but his advent still lived in the hand bills on Mr. Rogeis’s walls. Behind the old man, as he patiently bent over his work, an Interesting family of lions were sporting, while on the door were set forth in vivid pictures the accomplishments of “The Fairy of the U:ng,” a young woman in very scanty p’ettlcoats. The ceiling, too, had its share of decorations. Fiom it hung, among festoons of cobweb, a broken bird cage, a battered Chinese lantern, whose light had long since gone out; odd boots, which had parted with their mates; baskets with no bottoms, aud numberless straps, chains and bits of rope, that had long ago outlived their uselulness. But Mr. Rogers’s work-bench bailies all enumeration. It was covered with a de-

“Now, them copper-toes wouldn’t take more’n half an hour. Can’t you sit down

I all" *

every

loslt of from six to ten Inches in depth, from wliese lower stratum Mr. Rogers would, from time to time, bring n j an awl or a bit of wax. It was the old cobbler himself ou whom my eyes at last rested. In his moot upright days he could not have been a large man; but now the years bad settled upon him, and he had lost several inch- s of his youthful height. His face was framed with a thin white fringe of beard, while cheek and chlu were rough with a grauite-colored stubble. There were fine, netted wrinkles, but no deep furrows in the old man's face, aud on each cheek a wintry bloom still lingered. His voice had the roughness of a nutmeg-grater, but now and then glanced off from its usual key aud ended in a kind

of a chirp.

“You never come to see me before, did you? 1 am the J. Rogers out there on the sign. You’ve heard.of John Rogers, that was burnt at the stake? Well, I’m another John Rogers—not that one. i warn’t never quite so bad off as that. $o you like my shop, eh? I’ve got everything handy, yer see. 1 haven’t always beeu so well off as this,’’ he went on in a tremulous chirp. “When my wife was alive My wife was a fine woman, harnsnm and pretty higb-step-plng, when 1 married her, hut trouble brung her down. She never took kind ty to it. Her folks called me shiftless. I dunno; if shiftleas means working hard and getting little, s’pose 1 was. I warn’t one of the kind ter worry, and she was. Eight children there were, and every one that come she was sorry it come. And then, when one after another they died, all but one, that was what killed her at last. They was my children, too, and—well I—It’s given me something to look forward to, seeing ’em up there, yer see, but my wife, she warn’t right exactly in her mind, it’s my belief, after our troubles came. I dunno’s anybody’s to blame for ’em. There’s more trouble in this world than I’m able to account for, I’m free ter admit. My wife, she took to her bed two years before she died, and then I had to learn a new trade or two besides shoe making. I was hired gal and ’most everything else. I made a pretty bad mess of it. 1 don’t deny It. Poor Jim—he’s our boy—run off, Uecouldn’t stand It. She died after awhile. She was one of the Budaons. A harnsome set of gals they were. It waa a heavy day for me when I buried her In her grave. I’ve been alone since, but I’ve had a great many

mercies.”

“I thought you broke your leg last winter, Mr. Rogers.” “So 1 did; but on the whole I rather enjoyed It. I dunno when I ever lived so high, or had so many visits from my friends.” And so Mr. Rogers talked on, looking sharply up at me now and then, oa if to assure him seif that I was a better listener than the cat. Two days after I went for the rest of the shoes, and Mr. Rogers was so glad to see me that I was again flattered into staying. “Come, now, U you’ll ait down and stay awhile I'd tell you a story. Perhaps you’d like to know how I came by them lions? Wa'l, I’ll tell yer child, how ’twas.” With a child’s greed of stories 1 was only too glad to listen. “I told him his abow’d find it pretty poor plckln’s In this town,” said Mr. Rogers, In conclusion. “I’d done its cobbling for twenty yean and more. Bat he wasn’t for listening to me, and so they went off, he and his menagerie, all a growling together.” “He was a good boy, Jim was,” the old man would say. “I never thought hard of him for goin’ off. If he only comes back to bury me, that’s all I ask. He’ll be coming back one of these days, rich and handsome, I haln’t a doubt I shouldn’t wonder if he’d be looking round for a wife. Let’s see—how old are you? I shouldn’t wonder If you

his father seemed to think, the Idea of my marrying him would have lost none oC its uncomfortable grotdaqueness. “Don’t,Mr. Rogers” I said. "Bashful, are you?*’ he answered, trying to look roguiib. “Don’t you be for not getting married though, like the Miss Bucklands, and the Jewbury grit, and the Bassett girls, and all the rest There’s too many oa

’em; too many on ’em. I used to tell my wife that I was better’n nothin’ anyway. It’s kind of shabby in the men to go off aad leave the women to die off here up-country al alone. I ahi’t afraid but hm’ll fludaomebo tv easy enough.” “Oh, yes!” I said, for I was afraid I h ad hurt the old man’s feelings. “I’m sore he must be verv nice.” One accomplishment of Mr. Rogers I shall never forget. He not ouiy told me storiee as he worked, but be professed to be able to read them from his bands, which be held before him like the open pages of a book. “Seel You can look at ’em,” he would say. “There’s notUng bid in ’em. No cheating about It. Hard aud tough. Don’t look much like a book, do they? But just hear me read to you out of ’em.” I was compHt 1/ mystified, especially when the reader stopped to spell out a word and when be held his hard hands up to light and complained that It was rather fine print for such old eyee: but still the story went on witbont a break, and, In spite of myself, I was brought to the belief tbat Mr. Rogers possessed supernatural reading powers, pernaps akin to the mystery of my parting lessons, which told of “sermons in stones aad books in tunning brook*.” B( inehow, it appeared that, after all, M-. Rogers was the hero of h s story: and again it seemed that Mr. Rogers had' played a prominent part In the decline and fall of Amos Belden's fortunes; and again that Jonathan Wilder would have done much batter to listen to Mr. Rogers’ advice, and thus have averted ruin and consequent auction bills. It was a very artless egotism, not bard to account for. For years the old man had lived alone, his own chief counselor and friend. I do not ponder tbat he grew a little larger in his own eyes than in other men’s; that his imagination, having nothing else to do, built up the past till his memory b< Id fiction as dear as fact. I am quite readv to forgive him bij retrospc t ve castle,buildtbough I happened to te its credulous victim. Then there were marvelous tales of “my eon Jim’s adventures in that far-off wonderland,, out we*t.” I believe three scanty Itfers furnished these romances their founds tton of fact; but I asked ro questions, and belli ved with as honest a f ith in the gold paved si reels of San Francisco aa in those of the New Jerusalem. The eummer and fall went by, and the winter came, with frolics without number; bet alas! to the poor and old it brought only a chili that crept Into their bones and took up Its abode there. Poor old John Rogers! I lifted his latch one day, but the awl lay Idle on the bench. It was only the rheumatism that bad taken a mean advantage of the Infirm knee; but week after week he lay in bis bed, and the dust gathered thicker In his little shop. The neighbors were kind: but the best people find a sameness in the constant repetition of good deeds, and by degrees it grew plain that the old man’s friends would feel a sense of relief If he got well. It was about this time that my grandmother declared with a sigh that she had great respect for Mr. Rogers. “He’s borne up under affliction like a true Christian; but rather shiftless—rather shiftless. 1 don’t know how to reconcile his virtue* with the dirt and disorder he lived In. I don’t wonder his wife took to her bed.” “They say she was a pretty ebrew,” said my mother, placidly threading her needle. “Half crazy—eo I’ve heard. Mr. Appleton thinks there is no use in Mr. Rogers trying to stay by bimself thla winter. He’d much better go* to the poor-house and be taken good care of. Mrs. Simons, the woman over his shop, says he’s hardly a cent left, aud she can’t be expected to provide for him. I suppose the thought of It will be rather hard for him at first, but he’ll be much better off. Lucy, dear, won’t you hand me my scissors?” I gave my mother her scissors, but felt tb&t by the act 1 became a conspirator In this plot for the degradation of m poor old friend. 1 sat by his bed next day, when who should appear at the door but* my father. “I felt that the plot was thickening. “Well, how are you, Mr. Roge- -?” said my father In his hearty voice. ‘ Are you feeling pretty smart to-<lay?” “Yes, I’m pretty smart, thank ye. I baln’t got them boots of youra quite re tiy yet, though. I'll try and take hold at 'em tomorrow. I’m sorry you had the trouble of coming after ’em for nothing. I can send ’em by your little gal. I duuno’s you k iow what a good little gal she is to come aud see “I like to come,” I said. My father seemed lit no hurry, and aaid, at length: “Rather lonely here by yourself, isn’t it, Mr. Rogers ?’’ “Well, I dunno's I’ve much to complain of. Mrs. Simmons, up-stair*, looks after things, and I tell her to spemi the money In the black teapot. ’ There’s other folks worse off.” My father looked puzzled. *1 declare, Mr. Rogers, you’ve known what trouble wa?, haven’t you ? See ! How many years was your wife laid up ? And you’ve lost about all your children, aud now here you are yourselt.” “Yes, yes," said the old man. “But these ain’t the sort of things I try to let my mind dwell on while I’m a-laying here. I try to count up my mercies.” My father looked desperate. “Well, now. Mr. Rotrers, I think, and my wife thinks, that you ought to go somewhere else.” “I ain’t got nowtereels3togo, sir. I’m all alone iu the wor d. It’s t>ue wnat you say.” “But,” Mr. Rogers, to be plain, you know I'm one of the selectmen, and I’d see that the town took care of you—better care than Mrs. Simmons does.” “4 dunno’s I quite catch your meaning, sir. Does anybody find fault with Mrs. Simmons?” “No, no. I don’t mean that. I mean we think you’d better go down to Mr. Miles to spend the winter. He keeps the town-farm, you know.” “You mean to the poor-house, sir? I wara’t very blight ter see.” The old man turned his faded eyes Imploringly up to my father’s face. “Well*, ye*, that’s what they call It, though 1 must say 1 never quite liked the name.” The old cobbler’s face seemed to grow white and aged before our very eyes. The tears rolled slowly down his cheeks. With the instinct decently to hide his trouble, he drew up the old bea-qullt with a tremulous hand and turned bis face to the wall. “I dunno but I’ve asked too much,” he said, iu a broken voice, “I’ve sort o’ hung onto the idee that I should die before I come ter that. If the Lord ’ud only give me something l could die of!” ‘‘Lucy,” said my father, “didn’t I hear somebody In the shop? Go and see.” Two strangers had just entered the door— a tall joung man, dressed in a suit of plaid and accompanied by a pleasant-faced young woman in a white bonnet. • “Mr. Rogers to sick,” I said. “He can’t mend shoes now.” “Sick, did you say he was? Where is he?” “He’s in there. I don’t believe he wants anybody to come in.” A he young man gave me a queer look. “1 guess you don’t know who I am. I guess he’ll be willing to see me.” By this time he stood in the door between the two rooms. Mr. Rogers’ face was turned away, and my father was looking intently into the back yard. The stranger glanced uneasuy about, and said not a word. I am sure it must have been a relief to him, as well as to me, when at last my father turned suddenly rotmd, and said. ’ “Why, who’s this?” “It’s somebody come to see Mr. Rogers,” I answered, faintly. “Don’t you know me? Don’t you know me, father?” the stranger burst out. “It’s Jim come back. And out there’s my wife. Come home to enjoy Christmas with you.” I laugh now to think of the absurd sense of relief this last revelation caused me. “Jimmy 1 Come home!” tbe bad old man murmured, in a dazed, scared way.' *T ain’t out of my head. I’m awake. I know wbat you are going to do with n*; you are going to take me to the poor house.” “Take you to the poor house, father? What are you talking shout? You are going to live in style. No poor house about that. Ain’t yon glad to sea me? Say, Marne, come in here and see your poor old dad!” There waa a moment’s silence. Slowly, very slowly the old man understood; slowly he raised himself in bed, and holdllng up his trembling hand, said solemnly: “ ‘He bringeth glad tidings of great joy, good will to men.’”

Tha Danger ef Cesspools, Gasea from a hidden cesspool killed a whole family in Bristol, Conn.

“Speaking ef eoe*hin*,” any* Mrs- Partinr toe. “soma will cough till their faee gets blank aad blue, aad never think of buying a bottle of Dr. Bull’s Cough Syrup.

The Christmas Time. Tbe merry Christmas, with li* generous boards. Its firelit hearths and sift*, and blazing trees. Tie pleasant voters utt- ring gentle words. Its genial mirth attuned to sweet accords, IU holy memertes, Tbe fairest season of the passing year,— Tbe merry, merry Christmas time to here. Tbe snmacs by the brook bare lost their red; Ihe mill wheel In the ice stands dumb and still. The leave* have fallen and the birds have (led. Tbe flowers we loved in summer, all are dead; And wintry winds blow chill; Yet som thing mates this dreariness less drear,— The merry, merry Christmas time Is here. Since last the pane* were hoar with Christmas frost. Unto our dves 'ome changes have been given; Some of our barns hare labored, tempest tossed. Some of us too. have loved, and some have lost. Some found their re-t In heaven. So. humanly, we mingle mile and tear. When merry Christmas time Is drawing near. SCRAPS. A real Pullman car—A hand-car. Three things that rhyme—boys, notoe, toys. Santa C aus’s favorite ejaculation; “By chimney!” Even plum pudding sauce comes ready made in tin cans now. William Cullen Bryant Is to have a statue in Central park. New York. Mrs. Caroline C. Moore has given a* a Christmas present to Buffalo charities flO,000 in money. To give charity to the deserving poor is t© lend to the Lord; bnt to feed the lazy is to encourage vice. “That air brake didn’t work,” is getting to be the too common excuse of engineer.) for railroad accident*. Edward BacKfts who failed in[Chicago eight years ago, returned recently all the way from Brazil to pay his debts. Paul H. Haype, who was given a public

as tall, spare, gray and sickly looking. A colored woman of Cherry Lake, Fia., waa taken to the grave to be burled, wheu she came to. She to now a raving lunatic. The debt of the city of Elizabeth, N. J., is 16,500,000; the total valuation of real and personal estate in that dty in 1882 was $12,-

185,035.

The Rev. Dr. W. W. Scudder has resigned bis pastorate at Glastonbury, Conn., because he felt a pressing call to return to missionary work to India, where he labored twentyfive years. A couple in Springfield, Mass., made an economical bridal trip. They bade adieu to their friends on one side of the train and stepped off on the other side and into a Springfield hotel. Moses Taylor, of Unionvllle, N. Y., built a big barn, which his neighbors wanted him to paint. “Paint It yourselves,” was his replj, which they did one dark night, putting on all the colors in the cl ramatlc scale. “A popular writer laments the fact that American poets are declining.” It is different with the American poet) themselves. Thev lament the fact that the editor* of magazines and newspapers are declining.—[Norristown Herald. “Will you marry two durned foo’s ?” said an old man of eighty, as he led a blushing widow of twenty-eight before a Trenton, N. J., juatice of the peace last week. “Trot out your fools,” was the reply, and the marriage proceeded. Marshal Serrano, the Spanish Minister to France, is over seventy years of age, of medium height, slender, straight and very keen. He has a small white moustache, cut short, and wears the uniform of a captain general, with lar h e golden epaulets. There are unclaimed deposits to the amount of $52,840 In one bank, known as the society for savings, in Hartford, Conn. These accounts have been undisturbed for twenty years or more, and the whereabouts of the depositors is unknown to the bank

officers.

Mrs. Sarah Duer Smith, the daughter of Colonel William Duer, of the Revolutionary army, the granddaughter of General Stirliing, is still living in New Orleans, at the age of 101 years. Aaron Burr once wrote to his daughter Theodosia, referring to the marriage of “tbe elegant and accomplished Sarah Duer to John Witherspoon Smith, a young lawyer of great promise.” “Wbat are you doing with my boots on?” indignantly asked a high state official of a colored gentleman. “Is dese here yer boots, boss?” “Of course they are.” “Dat’s mighty cuis.” “Not curious at all, you scoundrel. You found them in my room wheu you cleaued up.” “Will, dat’s mighty cuis. Yer ken hab he boots, sah, ef da’s yersefs.” “I wouldn’t have them now.’! “Den what yer wanter make all dis great ’miration ’bout? White folks gittin’ wuss ebtry day. De blame boots too little fur me nohow.”—[Arkansaw Traveller. Some very curiously worded advertisements creep into the newspapers now aud then. Here, for instance, are three examples of composition which an English traveler says he read in an issue of a London paper: “Lost—A camera brooch, representing Venus and Adonis whilst walking all day in Sandy Mount, ou Sunday last.” “Wanted— A nurse for an infant between twenty-five and thirty, a member of the church of England and without followers.” “Mrs. and Miss May have left-off clothing of every disci iption. An Inspection is invited.” There was a time when Nathaniel P. Banks was one of the most prominent figures in American politic*, and his name was know far and wide In connection with big movements in history. He served as congressman, governor, speaker of the bouse, and general in the army; and then ail at once he dropped out of public notice almost as completely as if he had never been bean? of. A few days ago he was reappointed Marshal of Massachusetts, an office he has held for four years past; and they say of him that he Is now simply a broken-down old man, very poor, and dependent upon his salary for a living. Robert Humphreys of Bartbow county, Ky., jealous of his wife, peered through his bedroom, and saw what he fancied waa the head of a man In bed. He fired and fled. It was his own child he killed. He was sentenced to death; but before the day for the banging he escaped. This was twelve years ago. Three months ago several Bartbow county men, prospecting in Catoosa county, found him working on a farm under an assumed name, within a day’s walk of the scene of his crime. He was taken back to be rcsentenced. The commission of lunacy has just declared him hopelessly Insane and he has been sent to the state asylum. Judge Poland, representative in congress from Vermont, to said to bear a resemblance to portraits of George Washington, and the liktnessto Increased by his antiquated style of dress. One day, according to a Troy Times correspondent, he was In the east room of the White house with some friends from Vermont. The room was made dim by heavy curtains. A comfortable looking Quaker, with his wife and two children, entered the further end in their sight seeing rounds. In a comer near the judge stood a full-length picture frame leaning against the wall. “Get behind the frame,” sail one of his party, “and we’ll tell these people that it’s a picture of Washington.” Th# judge stepped briskly into place. Slowly the Quaker and his brood came down the great room, hepointing out the pictures on the walL “What’s that?” he demanded, pointing toward the judge. “That’s Washington,” he was answered. “Do not go near. Tbe painting to Just finished, and must not be touched.” The judge stood impassive In the shadow, gazing pensively out on the group halted a dozen feet away. At length the honest visitor found voice. Taming sorrowfully to hto wife, he said: “Wife, we always thought well of George Washington, bnt that to all over. We are temperance people; just look at that nose!” and he pointed toward the most marked feature of Poland’s face, gathered up hto family aud sorrowfully

marched a way.

Mr. Joel Chandler Harris is quoted as high authority on negro songs, customs and “folk lore.” There to goingthe rounds a statement

that he has never seen a * play a banjo. Hto opinion

like the so calle *

prt

what Mr. Hants’s Georgia ex-

whites. No

like the so-called negro son] strvls, Is tbe preduction o: matter what Mr. Hants’s

periercemay lave been, he can' make the a quaint*nee of Ke.tuddans and Virginians who, In their young day*, knew negro banjo p ayers, and negro banjo-nuxets, too. (haddock of the True Kentuckian, can teU him about “Old Steuben,” a blind negro, who was a familiar object at elections, court days and “big muster*," playing on a rode baa jo of his own make and singing songs of hto own make, long before a burut-oort minstrel was ever

"COCA PLUG” TOBACCO Not Injnmns. Nervous People and Working Men shonld chew COCA PLUG. The Doctors endorse COCA PLUG.

“I hsve exsmtned tbe Coca PIugTobacco and Cocarettes made by the Dnnamoud Tobacco Company, and find the same to be a comblnatioa of tobacco with fluid extract of coca, a South American shrub, a well-known nerve tonic. It Is my opinion that the addition of ooea to tobacco will modify the action of tobacco, when used for smoking or chewing, to the extent of greatly reducing, if (t doee not wholly overcome the depressing effects attributed to 1L”’—[JAMES F. BABCOCK, Analytical Chemist, State Assayer, and late Professor of Chemistry, Boston University and Massachusetts Co lege of Pharmacy. For sale by the wholesale and retail dealers in Indianapolis and Indiana.

Drummond Tobacco Co ST. LOUIS.

PURS!

I will offer my entire stock of Furs at Lowest Manufacturers

Prices.

The last Alaska Seal Sacqne, bust 88, worth $228, will sell at $175.

Seal Gloves $7 001 Sleigh ttobee. $10 00 Beaver Glovee 4 60 Beaver Perellne and Mnff. 28 00 Alask Seal Caps 10 001 Black Cony Mnff 178 Black Hare Set 4 001 Caps 2 00

Children’s Sets 2 00 Ladies’ Ato

11 Alaska Mir

<sska Seal Cap* 10 00

[B. H.] I. LRLBWRR. Bate* House. 2 2 and 24 N. Illlnolm St. gW - RAW FURS BOUGHT.

see* or heard of in that part of Kentucky. Steuban’s banjo was not the elegant brassmounted Instrument of the theater. As the handiwork of a blind man, It was a roughlooking concern, and its keys were mere wooden pegs, but it sounded as well as any of Ibem, aud invariably drew a crowd around him and brought him many a pile of small coins on public days. The fact to that the banjo is one of the simplest and most cheaply constructed of musical Instruments. A sheepskin, a wooden hoop, a wooden shank and the catgut string* are all the essential*, and but little mechanical skill U required to

the semi-barbarous peoples of Asia and Africa, just as some kind of drum has been found everywhere, even among the American Indians by the first Europeans that visited this continent. Of course, as violins became obtainable, they almost entire y superseded tbe banjo among the negroes, but there are still some old darkles living who remember the time when banjos were more common than violins in Virginia and Kent ucky. Mr. Hon i • has never heard plantation negroes in Georgia playing the banjo, the tamborine or the bones. There ate plenty of people who have in other states heard “heels a rocking” to the music of banjo, nlow clevis, jaw-bones and platters used with as good effect as the tambourine player ever produced.—[8t. Louis Post-Dispatch. Struck the Wrong Chord. [New Orleans Item ) A man who was selling polish or something of the sort entered the yard of a colored family In a suburban city and inquired of a boy, who sat on tho door-step: “Bub, is your mammy home!” “Yes." Theageut raised his band to knock on the door, but it w aa opened, and the woman atuck her .head out and exclaimed: “Go right away, sah— go right away! I heard you speakln’ to de boy, an’ I wants you to distlnctlv uuderstai.’ dat de agent who doan’ iuquar’ for de lady of de house doan’ make no sale!" Indiana Rich in Suckers. 11.aporte Argus.] A board of trade man recently told the writer that the state of Indiana is especially rich in gudgeons, and thousands of Chicago sharaers live and flonrizh on the speculative weaknesses of the Hooslers. It would be difflcnlt to find a man in the state who has ever made and saved any considerable amount of money in Chicago grain transaction*. but men can be found everywhere, who have lost largely. In time it will fetch tbe best of them. A Lively Day Jumping Claims. Many Colorado miners who are nominally idle are looking around for the best claims to b« struck on the 1st of January next. On that day the property of thousands of owners will be forfeited under the law, because they have not done the annual assessment labor, and whoever digs a ten-foot shaft or its equivalent will become possessor of the claim for a year thereafter. There will be more pickaxes swinging In the air on New Year’* day than ever before in one day in Colorado. Ihe Decay of Riv< r Towns. Railroads have been the bane of villages along the Ohio. A writer in the Cleveland Herald say*: “The river is no longer the great avenue of trade, and us the steamboat disappears before the railroad these onee thriving tow ns fall Into decay. They retain thetr status us towns aud villages; they are marked on the maps; the old settlers remain fn m force of Habit, hut no newcomers settle; they are good towns to move away from.”

Money Spent in ’Worthless Inventions. John L. McMillan, who i* making a typesetting machine in illon, N. Y., with which he expects to set 5.000 ems an hour, says that $500,000 was spent on the Al len typesetting sud distributing machine before it was given up as impracticable, and that $1,000,000 was wasted on the Page machine, whose patent right was subsequently sold for $10,000. Too Ezhllernting. Mr. W. E. Adams, a north of England man, who has been travelling In America says tbat Kingsley and Dickens, taking no account of the exhilarating Inflaence of the American atmosphere, exerted themselves so much while here that they considerably shortened their days. Sale of State Beads. The treasurer of Connecticut has just placed $1,000,000 of tbe 3 1-3 per cent, bonds of the state in one of the savings banks at a premium of 6.85 per cent. A Romance of Geology. Three large stones having deeply indented footprints of birds have been taken from the ausrrles In Portland, Conn., 300 feet below the surface. THU Is What Makes Trouble. AD but eighty of the 325 members of our present national house of representatives are lawyers We Make oar Own. With the exception of a small quantity last year, no 11mburger baa been Imported into this country since the war.

la General Use. Velvet to used for everything in Paris— dresses, cloaks, bonnets, and even the trimming of these bonnet*. Look Oat for Bearlet Fever.

A disease like, pinkey peered among the school

land, N. Y.

e in horses ha* *pchildren In Cort-

Rapid Growth ef Texas. Emigration to Texas to said to be 35 per cent, greater this year than last. A Mammoth Artificial Hen. A Waterbary, Conn., man has an incubator with a capacity of 13,000.

Ward Br< 40 East Washington street, have Paplilon F v m Core for sale; It cures all diseases of a scrotuloua nature. tu If yon ar«- nervouiCor dyspeptic * try Carter’s Little Sen e Pills. Dyspepsia makes you nervous, and nervousness makes you dyspeptic; either one renders yon miserable, and these little pills cure both. 28 Nervous or dyspeptic headaches cured by Dr. * C. W. Benson's Celery and Chamomile Pills.

PLEAFK REMEMBER we have many articles Idtng Presents. Splendid assortment Brass^ Fire Seta, Fender#,

suitable for Christmas and Weddh

And Irons, Fire Screens, Rogers's A1 Platedware, Coal Vases, Ivory, Pearl, Rubber and Celluloid Handled Cutlery and Carvers. Ladle#, Scissors in cases. Fancy Tea Trays, Plated Nut Picks In cases. Pocket Knive# and Razors.

best assortment and low prices. Call and t vestigate. Hildebrand A Fit rate, S* 8. Mar. at

Th©

and tn-

MutA Awtmpjand Cape Cod to being

NOW 1$ the time to call and see our magnificent stock of WATCHES, DIAMONDS, JEWELRY, SILVERWARE, CLOCKS, CANES, OPTICAL GOODS, AND NOVELTIES. We -offer special inducements until January 1st. Select your presents now, have them engraved and ready for the Holidays. CRAFT & CO. 24 East Washington St.

MUSICAL GIFTSI

Christmas, New Years

Gems of English Song.

Revited, enlarged and best collections of th#

kind.

Minstrel Songs, Old and New. 215 Sheet Music 8lzo pages. All tbe old-time, world-ftimous Minstrel and Plantation songs.

Musical Favorite.

A recent collection of beet Piano piece# Gems of Strauss. ™z**°£**°*»> Acknowledged to be the most brilliant music

In the world ”

Guitar at korae. OT S E t K£S, l S“’* 1 Price i f each of the above hooka, $2 in boards,

$2.60 in cloth, and $3 gilt.

Musical Literature.

Bitter * History of Music. 2 voto., each $1 50; Mendelsohn's beautiful Letters, 2 vois., each $1.75 Mizart's Letters. 2 volt., each $1.60.

2 voto., each $ Gottschalk, ($1 (2), Mendelsst

l-fft.

w>hn,

_ .*ber,S voto., each

$1.60), 8 -humanh, ($1.50). Polko'a Sketches, ($1.50). Urbino's Biographical Sketches, ($1.73).

OUTSB DITSOIA CO.. Bostoi.

C. H. DITSON A CO., 867 Broadway, New York.

wJ.m

LYOIA HBALI, Chicago, DL

STOYE REPAIRS.

You will movo money by hovfnc your COOK STOVB repaired with Newby'e Adjustable Stove Repairs. Neourly ell stove dealers keep theca. Made by Indiana Foundry Go., MANUFACTURBRS OP Gray Iron Oastingo, INDIANAPOLIS.

The Mercantile K.L8CABLM. IB.CU No. 8 Uackfonl Block.

one more thaai 4Ne<

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