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The Indianapolis world. [volume] (Indianapolis, Ind.) 188?-19??, January 27, 1900, Image 6

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When a
Man’s Single.
By J. M. Barrie.
CHAPTER XV—Continued.
An uneasy feeling possessed Dick
that Mary knew of the misunderstand
ing which kept Hob away, and possi
bly even of her brother’s share in fos
tering it. If so, she was too proud to
<?nd it. He found that if he mentioned
Hob to her she did not answer a word.
Nell’s verbal experiments in the same
'direction met with a similar fate, and
every one was glad when the colonel
reappeared to take command.
Colonel Abinger was only in London
for a few days, being on his way to
Glen Quharity, the tenant of which
was already telegraphing him glorious
figures about the grouse. Mary was
going, too, and the Merediths were
shortly to return to Silchester.
“There is a Thrums man on this
stair,” Dick said to his father one af
ternoon in Frobisher’s Inn, “a partic
ular friend of mine, though 1 have
treated him villianously.”
“Ah,” said the colonel, who had just
-come up from the house-boat, “then
.you might have him in and make your
difference up. Perhaps he could give
me some information about the shoot
“Possibly,” Dick said: “but we have
no difference to make uY>, because he
thinks me as honest as himself. You
have met him, I believe.”
'“What did you say his name was?”
“His name is Angus.”
■*T can’t recall any Angus.”
’‘Ah, you never knew him so well as
Mary and I do.”
“Mary?” asked the colonel, looking
up quickly.
“Yes,” said Dick. “Do you remem
ber a man from a Silchester paper who
was at the castle last Christmas?”
“What!” cried the colonel, “an un
derbred, poaching fellow who—”
‘“Not at all,” said Dick, “an excellent
'gentleman who is to make his mark
here, and, as I have said, my very par
ticular friend.”
“That fellow turned up again,”
groaned the colonel.
“I have something more to toll you
□f him,” continued Dick, remorselessly.
“I have reason to believe, as we say
on the press when hard up for copy,
tliat he is in love with Mary.”
The colonel sprang from his seat.
'“Be calm,” said Dick.
■“J am calm,” cried the colonel, not
saying another word, so fearful was
be of what Dick might tell him next.
“That would not perhaps so much
matter,” Dick said, coming to rest at
the back of a chair, “if it were not
that Mary seems to have an equal re
gard for him.”
Colonel Abinger clutched the edge
of the table, and it was not a look of
. love he cast at Dick.
•Yf this be true,” he exclaimed, his
voice breaking in agitation. “I shall
■never forgive you, Richard, never. But
.1 don’t believe it.”
Dick felt sorry for his father.
-“It is a fact that has to be faced,”
be said, more gently.
“Why, why, why, the man is a pau
“Not a bit of it,” said Dick. “He
may be on the regular staff of the
-Wire’ any day now.”
'“You dare to look me in the face and
'Mell me you have encouraged this,
•thl» — cried the colonel, choking in a
rush of words.
“Quite the contrary.” Dick said: *‘l
’have done more than I had any right
to do to put an end to it.”
“Then it is ended?”
“I can’t say.”
“It shall be ended,” shouted the col
onel, making the table groan under his
•Tn a manner,” Dick said, “you are
responsible for the whole affair. Do
you remember when you were at Glen
-Quharity two or three years ago ask
ing a parson called Rorrison, father of
•Borrlson, the war correspondent, to
«se his son’s press influence on behalf
of a Thrums man? Well. Angus is
that man. Is it not strange how this
lias come about?”
“It is enough to make me hate my
self.” replied the irate colonel, though
It had not quite such an effect as that.
When his father had subsided a lit
tle, Dick told him of what had been
ba pi>ening in England during the last
month or two. There had been a
change of government, but the chief
event was the audacity of a plebian in
casting his eyes on a patrician’s
laughter. What are politics when the
pipes in the bath room burst?
“So you see.” Dick said, in conclu
sion. “i have acted the part of the un
relenting parent fairly well, and I
don’t like it."
“Had I l>een in your place.” replied
the colonel. “I would have acted it a
good deal better.”
“You would have told Angus that
you considered him. upon the whole,
the meanest thing that crawls, and
that if he came within a radius of five
miles of your daughter you would
have the law of him? Yes: but that
sort of trespassing is not actionable
nowadays; and. besides. I don’t know
what Mary might have said.”-
“Tresspassing!” echoed the’. colonel,
*1 could have had the law of him for
trespassing nearly a year ago.”
“Yon mean the time you caught him
fishing in the Dome? I only heard of
that at second hand, but I have at
least no doubt that he fished to some
effect.” i
“Be can fish.” admitted the colonel;
“I should like to know what flies ho
Dick laughed. A
“Angus.” he said, “is a a
natural aptitude for does
not. I suspect, even a
He paused.
“Yes,” said Dick. “Mary is the diffi
culty. At present I can not even tell
you what she is thinking of it all.
Mary Is the one person I could never
look in the face when I meditated an
underhand action —I remember how
that sense of honor of hers used to an
noy me when I was a boy—-and so I
have not studied her
much of late.”
“She shall marry Dowton.” said the
colonel decisively.
“It is probably a pity, but I don’t
think she will,” replied Dick “Of
course you will prevent her ma»wmg
Angus by simply refusing your con
“Yes: and I shall refuse it.”
“Though it should break her heart,
she will never complain.” said Dick:
“but it does seem a little hard on
Mary that we should mar her life
rather than endure a disappointment
“You don’t look at it in the proper
light,” said the colonel, who. like
persons, made the proper light him
self: “in saving her from this man, we
do her the greatest kindness in our
“Um.” said Dick, “of course. That
was how I put it to myself; but just
consider Angus calmly, and see what
case we have against him.”
“He is not a gentleman,” said the
“He ought not to be, according to
the proper light, but he is.”
“Pshaw!” the colonel exclaimed, pet
tishly. “He may have worked himself
up into some sort of position, like oth
er discontented mon of his class, but
he never had a father.”
“He says he had a very good one.
Weigh him, if you like, against Dow
ton, who is a good fellow in his way,
but never, so far as I know, did an
honest day’s work in his life. Dow
ton’s whole existence has been devoted
to pleasure seeking, while Angus has
been climbing up ever since he was
born, and with a heavy load on his
back, too, most of the time. If he goes
on as he is doing he will have both a
good income and a good position
“Dowton’s position is made,” said
the colonel.
“Exactly.” said Dick, “and Angus
is making his for himself. Whatever
other distinction we draw between
them is a selfish one. and I question
if it does us much credit.”
“I have no doubt,” said the colonel,
“that Mary’s pride will make her see
this matter as I do.”
“It will at least make her sacrifice
herself for our pride, if you insist on
Mary’s father loved her as he had
lovc-d her mother, though he liked to
have his own way with both of them.
His voice broke a little as he an
swered Dick.
“You have a poor opinion of your
father, my boy.” he said. “I think I
would endure a good deal if Mary
wore to be the happier for it.”
Dick felt a little ashamed of him
“Whatever I may say,” he an
swered, “I have at least acted as
much as you would have done your
self. Forgive me. father.”
The colonel looked up with a wan
“Let its talk of your affairs, rather,
Richard.” he said. “I have at least
nothing to say against Miss Meredith.”
Dick moved uncomfortably in his
chair, and then stood up. thinkning he
heard a knock at the door.
“Are you there. Abinger?” some one
called out. “I have something very
extraordinary to tell you.”
Dick looked at his father, and hes
itated. “It is Angus.” he said.
“Let him in,” said the colonel.
Tho Barber of Rotten Row.
Rob started when he saw Mary’s
“We have met before. Mr. Angus,”
said the colonel, courteously.
“Yes,” answered Rob, without a
tremor: “at Dome Castle, was it not?”
This was the Angus who had once
been unable to salute anybody with
out wondering what on earth he ought
to say next. This was the colonel
whose hand had erasppd five minutes
before for Rob’s throat. Tho frown on
the face of Mary’s father was only a
protest against her lover’s improved ap
test against her lover’s improved nn
pearanep. Rob was no longer the hob
bledehoy of last Christmas. He was
rather particular about tho cut of his
coat. He had forgotten that he was
not a colonel’s social equal. In short,
when he entered a room now he knew
what to do with his hat. Their host
saw the two men measuring each oth
er. Dick never smiled, but sometimes
his mouth twitched, as now.
“You had something special to tell
me. had you not?” he asked Rob.
“Well,” Rob replied, with hesitation,
“I have something for you in my (
“Suppose my father —” began Dick,
meaning to invite the colonel up
stairs, but pausing as he saw Rob’s
brows contract. The colonel saw, too,
and resented it. No man likes to be
left on the outskirts of a secret.
“Run up yourself. Abinger.” Rob
said, seating himself near Mary’s
father: “and. stop, here are my keys.
I locked it in.”
“Why,” asked Dick, while his father
also looked up. “have you some savage
animal up there?”
“No.” said Rob, “it is very tame.”
Dick climbed the stair, after casting
a quizzical look behind him. which
meant that he wondered how long the
colonel and Rob would last in a small
room together. He unlocked the door
of Rob’s chandlers more quickly than
he opened it. for he had no notion of
what might bo caged up inside, and as
soon as ho had entered ho shopped,
amazed. All men of course are amazed
once in their lives —wf'en they can get
a girl to look at them. This was
Dick’s second time.
It was the hour of the evening
when another ten minutes can be
stolen from the day by a readjustment
of one’s window curtains. Rob’s blind,
however, had given way in the cords
and instead of being pulled up was
twisted into triangles. Just sufficient
light straggled through the window
kto let Dick see the man who was
Standing on the hearth-rug looking
■hllenly at his boots. There was a
HhU of ell in the room.
“Dowton!” Dick exclaimed; “what
masquerade is this?”
The other fellow put up his elbow,
as if to ward off a blow, and then
Dick opened the eyes of anger.
“Oh,” he said, “it is you. is it?”
They stood looking at each other in j
“Just stand there, my fine fellow,” 1
Dick said, “until I light the gas. I I
must have a better look at you.”
The stranger turned longing eyes cn
the door as the light struck him.
“Not a single step in that direction,”
said Dick, “unless you want to go over ;
the balusters.”
Abinger came closer to the man who .
was Sir Clement Dowton’s double. !
and looked him over. He wore a white
linen jacket, and an apron to match. I
and it would have been less easy to
mistake him for a baronet aping the
barber than it had been for the barber
to ape the baronet.
“Your name?” asked Dick.
“Josephs,” the other mumbled.
“You are a barber. I presume?”
“I follow the profession of hair
dressing.” replied Josephs, with his
first show of spirit.
Had Dick not possessed an Inscrut
able face. Josephs would have known
that his inquisitor was suffering from
a sense of the ludicrous. Dick had just
remembered his father was down
“Well, Josephs. I shall have to hand
you over to the police.”
“I think not.” said Josephs, in his
gentlemanly voice.
“Why not?” asked Dick.
“Because then it would all come
“What would all come out?”
“The way your father was deceived.
The society papers would make a
great deal of it, and he would not like
Dick groaned, though the other did
not hear him.
“You read the society journals, Jo
“Rather!” said Josephs.
“Perhaps you write for them?”
Josephs did not say.
“Well, how were you brought here?”
Dick asked.
“Your friend.” said Josephs, sulkily,
“came into onr place of business in
Southampton Row half an hour ago,
and saw me. He insisted on bringing
me here at once in a cab. I wanted
to put on a black coat, but he would
not hoar of it.”
“Ah, then, I suppose you gave Mr.
Angus the full confession of your
roguery as you came along?”
“He would not let me speak.” said
Josephs. “He said it was no affair of
“No? Then you will be so good as
to favor me with the pretty story.”
Dick lit a cigar and seated himself.
The sham baronet looked undecidedly
at a chair.
“Certainly not” said Dick, “you can
Josephs told his tale demurely, oc
casionally with a gleam of humor,
and sometimes with a sigh. His am
bition to be a gentleman, but with no
desire to know the way. had come to
him one day in his youth when an
other gentleman flung a sixnence at
him. In a moment Josephs saw what
it was to belong to the upper circles.
He hurried to a street corner to got
his boots blackened, tossed the menial
the six-pence, telling him to keep the
change, and returned home in an ec
stacy, penniless, but with an object in
life. That object was to do it again.
At the age of eighteen Josephs
slaved merrily during the week, but
had never any money by Monday
morning. He was a gentleman every
Saturday evening. Then lie lived: for
the remainder of the week he was a
barber. One of his delights at this pe
riod was to have his hair cut at Triio
fitt’s and complain that it was badly
done. Having reproved his atendant
in a gentlemanly way. he tipped him
handsomely and retired in a glory. It
was about this time that he joined a
Conservative association.
Soon afterwards Josephs was to be
seen in Rotten Row. in elegant ap
parel. hanging over the railing. He
bowed and raised his hat to the ladies
who took his fancy, and. though they
did not respond, glowed with the sen
sation of being practically a man of
fashion. Then he returned to the
The years glided by, and Josephs
discovered that he was perfectly con
tent to remain a hair-dresser if he
could be a gentleman now and again.
Having supped once in a fashionable
restaurant, he was satisfied for a fort
night or so with a sausage and onions
at home. Then the craving came back.
He saved up for two months on one
occasion and then took Saturday to
Monday at Cookham. when he passed
as Henry K. Talbot Devereux. He
was known to the waiters and boat
men there as the gentleman who had
quite a pleasure in tossing them half
crowns. and for a month afterwards
he had sausage without onions. So i
far this holiday had been the memory
of his life. lie studied the manners
and language of the gentlemen who
came to the shop in which he was em
ployed, and began to dream of a big
thing annually. He had learned long
ago that he was remarkably good
For a whole year Josephs abstained
from being a gentleman except in the
smallest way, for ho was burning to
have a handle to his name, and feared
that it could not be done at less than
twenty pounds. His week’s holiday
came, and found Josephs not. ready for
it. HP had only twelve pounds. With
a self-denial that was magnificent he
crushed his aspirations, took only two
days of delight at Brighton and contin
ued to save vp for the title. Next
summer saw him at Angler’s Retreat,
i near Dome Castle. “Sir Clement
Dowton.” was the name on his Glad
i stone bag. A dozen times a day he
looked at it till it frightened him, and
then be tore the label off. Having
done so. he put <n a fresh one.
Josephs had selected his baronetcy
with due care. Years previously he
had been told that he looked like the
twin-brother of Sir Clement Dowton.
and cn inquiry he had learned that the
■ baronet was not’ in England. As for
j the Angler’s Retreat, he went there
• because he had heard that it was fre
quented by persons in the rank of life
I to which it was his Intention to be
long for the next week. He had never
i heard of Colonel Abinger until they
met. The rest is known. Josephs
dwelt on his residence at Dome Castle
with his eyes shut, like a street Arab,
lingering lovingly over the grating of
a bakery.
“Well, you are a very admirable
rogue.” said Dick, when Josephs had
brought his story to an end. “and
though I shall never be proud again,
your fluency excuses our blindness.
Where did you pick it up?” The bar
ber glowed with gratification.
“It came naturally to rap.” he an
swered. “I was intended for a gentle
man. I dare say, now. I am about
the only case on record of a man uho
took to* pickles and French sauces the
first time he tried them. Mushrooms
were not an acquired taste with me,
nor black coffee, nor caviare, nor li
quors. and I enjoy celery with my
cheese. What I liked best of all was
the little round glasses you dip your
fingers into when the dinner is fin
ished. I dream of them still.”
“You are burst up for the present,
Josephs, I presume?”
(To be continued.)
Boers’ Methods of Doing Business
Are Entertaining To the Anglo-
In a small curve off the main road
stands a long, low, galvanized iron
building, with a broad stoop and an
overhanging veranda. Behind it is a
narrow stretch of cultivated land,
hemmed in by a sod wall, and back of
all a small cluster of young eucalyptus
trees. The blazing sun beats down on
the iron roof with a fierceness to
which the galvanized sheets lend still
greater intensity, and the blankets,
clothing and other goods in the store
still further aid’ The atmosphere in
the shop can best be described by the
remark made in the writer's hearing
by an intelligent, but Irreligious, trav
eler. that “ a man who could live in
a Transvaal store would freeze to
death in hell.”
But the trader does not mind this;
or if he does, he doesn’t say so.
Dressed in trousers, light shoes and a
flannel shirt, he reclines on a conve
nient part of the counter, and with
the aid of his pipe passes the time un
til a customer arrives. Should the cus
tomer be a white man, the storekeeper
and he as a rule retire into the little
side room for a few minutes, and a
bottle and a couple of glasses will be
produced. Should he. on the other
hand, be a nigger, the trader glances at
him casually, and, without moving,
asks him what he wants. He does
this because Kaffirs often want some
thing which they know the storekeep
er has not got. The Kaffir is gregar
ious, and likes to have a chat, especial
ly with a white man. When such is
the case the trader can tell the nigger
to be off, without disturbing himself
in any way. This saves trouble. The
shelves in the back <>f the shop are
piled up with gaudy blankets, clothing
of all descriptions, tinned goods, clocks
and vases, cheap “jewelry” and vari
ous other commodities. Below these
shelves are the bins where the sugar,
flour, meal, coffee, etc., are kept.
On one side are the small shelves
where the patent medicines stand.
This is the most important branch in
the Transvaal up-country trade, and
the trader as a rule, acts as medical
adviser to the whole neighborhood.
The average Boer takes more medi
cine than the worst hypochondriac in
any other part of the world. This is
owing to indigestion. The Boer is pa
tient and long-suffering in some re
spects. but when it comes to a case of
sickness he is In a hurry. He wants
to get right at once, and so he goes
to the store, and, acting on the advice
of the trader, buys a remedy. When
he finds in a couple of days that the
medicine has not cured him he Imme
diately jumps to the conclusion that it
is no good. He then, relying on his
own judgment, buys some other medi
cine, and starts in on that At the
same time, if he gets a chance, he will
jump a sample of something else to
have a go at when he has got tired
of the other: How on earth ho keeps
alive is a mystery. It must be that
the climate saves him. T can’t account
for it in any other way.
Outside the store, on the stoop, are
the agricultural implements, plows,
harrows, now American inventions of
all sizes and descriptions that are too
big or too heavy to bo carried away
easily, and at all hours of the day.
from enrlv morn until sunset, a nig
ger attired in a soldier's old red coat,
Is seated on one of those articles.
Where this darky comes from is a
puzzle. During a long acquaintance
with the Transvaal I have never ar
rived at a stem without encountering
one of these objects on the stoop. In
fact. I used to look for him. and one
occasion won a substantial stake by
betting with a companion that wo
would find a Kaffir In a soldier’s coat
at the first three stores wo arrived at.
llp. of course, lost the bot, and be’ng
a newcomer seemed sit first to think
that I had some hand in having thoso
people there, but he has long sine*-
grown wiser, and knows bv this time
that the “Soldier Kaffir” Is as much
an adjunct of the Transvaal trading
-tore as a ghost is of a r e spoetab’e
English castle, the only difference be
ing that the former Is much more m
evidence. As the sun goes down and
the evening closes in the storekeeper
comes outside and watches the
change, after which ho retires to his
small bedroom, and his boy brings
him his supner. Ho «ats this and then
lights his nine and turns Into bed: an
other half hour sees the light die out
In his window, and the house given
over tn sleep. At the first break of
dawn he is awakened by the boy
bringing him his coffee, and he then
gets on. unlocks the doors, and pre
pares for another day. It is not a chor
fnl life, but to the mon who lead it
has a strange fascination, and “once
a Boer trader al wavs a Boer trader” is
a stock saying In the Transvaal.—New
i York Press.
Lost Eyesight Restored—-The Loogootee Boom--An Old
C1aim—5353,145.90 Deficit in School Fnnds-s ta u
Notes. ‘ e
Serious Smallpox Epidemic.
The western part of Indiana is facing
the worst smallpox situation that any lo
cality in the State has had to deal with !
since ISC3, reports Dr. Hurty, of the State
Board of Health. Clay county is covered I
with hundreds of cases of the disease,
cases are reported from Sullivan andi
Greene counties, and the prospects of its
spreading are good. Last week a report
was published in an Indianapolis paper •
that several hundred cases of chicken-pox
had broken out in Clay City. From the
description given of the disease, Dr.
Hurty concluded that the epidemic was
smallpox, and he went Sunday to inves
tigate. He had received no reports from
the health officer of Clay City, and on his
arrival was met by Dr. Modisitt, the
health officer, who assured him that the
epidemic was nothing but chicken-pox.
Together they went to see Dr. Wolfe,
who had charge of some of the cases.
From the doctor’s description of the dis
ease, Hurty was convinced that he was
face to face with an epidemic of small
pox, and started out to diagnose some of |
the cases. He found that the epidemic
had been raging since early in October,
anA that hundreds of people in the town
and surrounling country had been af
flicted. There have been no deaths as
yet, but many of the victims of the dis
ease have been at death’s door, and as it
has now reached the confluent form, fa
talities may be looked for. Dr. Hurty
found smallpox patients walking about
the streets, people with the disease were
attending a protracted meeting in one of
the churches, and afflicted children were
In school. Dr. Hurty reports that Dr.
Wolfe himself had been afflicted with the
disease in a mild form, but had never |
given up his practice. By order of Dr. i
Hurty, the schools were closed and the
revival meetings at the church discontin
ued. A theatrical performance was
stopped Monday night, and man after
man was sent home from the streets, suf- i
fering from the disease. Every smallpox
patient In the town will be rigidly quar
antined. It is probable that people with!
the disease had already left Clay City, :
but none got out after Dr. Hurty’s ar-.
rival. There was a stampede to leave
town when it became known on his au- '
thorlty that smallpox really existed, but:
care was taken that no patient got away. ,
Hn this column will appear from time to time portraits of * Th* Indians Man” typical—Hr
of pastor present prominence in potitrcal, official and commercial life of our great ex:unon«
Cougresiiuau Jeune Overstreet, of th« Seventh District.
Lost Eyesight Restored,
Scipio special: Wesley Mourey, aged
aixty-seven, lives three miles north of
this place. When a young man, in driv
ing an ox team, he accidentally struck
the lash of his whip in his right eye,
causing a film to grow over the corner,
which entirely obscured the sight. About
five years ago, while raising his ax in
driving a stake in the ground, a splinter
ftew off the stake and struck him in the
left eye, blinding it. The doctors could
not restore his sight, and he had not the
means to visit and secure the servic*. of
an oculist. Finally, the people of Scxpio
got up an entertainment for hts benefit,
and succeeded in raising money enough
to send him to Indianapolis. Dr. C. W.
Phillips voluntarily accompanied h-m.
They went to Dr. Thompson, who told
him that the sight of his left eye was to
tally destroyed, and that the cataract
over the right eye adhered so closely that
it would be a dangerous operation to un
dertake to remove it. Mr. Mourey came
home convinced that blindness would be
his fate for life. Three months ago he
was sitting on his chair with his feet on
a low bench, his head resting on his cane.
One foot slipped off the bench, and he
started to fall. In tiying to balance hlm
telf he jerked the cane in such a way
that it scraped the ball of his right ey«x
When he looked up he could see, but only
?or a few moments, the light being t»x>
strong for the eye. He consulted a physi
cian, who told him there was no film or
covering over it—that the ball was clear |
and all right. Since then his eye has
gradually strengthened, so that now he
ean see to go where he pleases and do
some work.
The I.nnCOOtoP Room
Loogootee special: Activity in the Loo
gootee oil field has taken on new life
since the holidays. Persons who have
been saying that the boom has played
out, and that prospectors have abandoned
the territory will have to take a rest. The
Neeley OU Company, of Lima, O„ is hard
at work drilling a test we]], -n,
tee Prospecting Company hasV
ing on well No. 6, with new a !?'
machinery. A new firm began"
on the O’Brien farm, one
town. They have two car had* ?
ing machinery and two drill:-.
to supervise the work. This
that sold for $1,500 bonus and
royalty. It is owned jointly by
Argue Company, of Buffalo, y
the Aiken and Ridgeway Oil Com
Lima, O. Lessees are still scour’/*
mediate vicinity for available -
Sixteen new leases were placed o/
last Thursday. Tho supply of sai 3
ficient to afford the comforts of «J
lights to the citizens of the to/
has not diminished in pressure.
pecting Company's oil well 1 S a J
producer, without the assistant/
pump. Two car loads of very
of crude oil were shipped within
An Old Settler’* Claim
Jeffersonville special: The claim,
by James Hillis, age elghty-fo/
live* near Kokomo, that he Is th* j
native Hoosier, is not well founded
Mary C. Pile, of this city, whose hfl
was at one time mayor of Jeftenn
was born March 18, 1812, which 1
make her 88 years old on her
anniversary. In Jeffersonville
was bom, reared, married and brow
a large family. She has several,
great-grandchildren, and there is u
a legion of grandchildren. Once a?
family reunion is held. Mrs. Pile is,
preserved woman, a great reader,
keeps up her interest in the topics(
day. Mrs. Pile's father, whose nan
Cunningham, was one of George R
Clark’s soldiers. On her rr.aternsl
Mrs. Pile is a great-great-niece of r
Morris; of Revolutionary fame. Mx
is one of the claimants to a vast si
money stfll said to be due the hsj
Robert Morris from the United States
Mysterious Poisoning.
Dillsboro special: Mrs. Sarah Col
Mrs. Cora Jones and Jesse Jones, rfc
of mysterious poisoning last week,
out of danger, but Jones is in a dai
ous condition. The physician says
the symptoms are identical with thoi
ptomaine poisoning, and that the pt
was contained either In canned n*
ries or in hogshead cheese.
9353>L45 OODeflc it In School f: ‘*
According to the report of tb*
Superintendent of Public Instruc’
January 1. there has been a
$353,145.90 in school funds during .
Governor and Attorney
made an investigation and find
has not been receiving the J- ' \
for liquor license fees. The
government issued 7,170 retail
censes in Indiana during
and from these figures it I s
the State should have received
$lOO for each license. Only s3*
ceived, leaving $340,000 una (
This sum, together with the -
liquor licenses, which also
age, is sufficient to make g"'’- j
in the school fund. It 13 sa- „ ;j |
prosecution of all violator-
The next Legislature will
amend the liquor laws of, ■•• J
repetition of present con *
roggan occur.
Murder in Pik*
Petersburg special: Th*re
at Winslow, nine miles
eity, last Saturday niffkt ‘ o f|K
tended by William Riss a.
ot Arthur. While B.
were going homewa- * 0 cjd
they met Frank Force!.
ions, and there was an
resulted in PurceU using -
stantly killing Kiss by a 8 ; t y»
eyes. The friends of j
killing was unprovoked.
lowed a query J J"
know if the party was .
bullet was fired when » frier-d*
affirmative. PurceU and h jj
placed under arrest, a. «<•
against them was Inte^ f
moved to acather coun-J

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