PART II.
CHAPTER IV.—(CoktiHUMl >
“Now, Richard, think very carefully.
You speak of the missing finger joint.
We doctors know how many people
persuade themselves into all sorts of
things. Tell me, did you notice the
-likeness before you saw the mutilated
:flnger, or did the fact of the finger’s
being mutilated bring the likeness to
Tour mind.”
“Bless the man,” I said. “One would
think I had no eyes. I tell you there
is no doubt about this man being the
original of the photo.”
“Never mind—answer my question.”
“Well, then, I am ashamed to con
fess it, but I put the photo in my
pocket, and forgot all about it until I
had recognised the man, and pulled out
the likeness to make sure. I didn’t
•even know there was a printed descrip
tion at the foot, nor that any member
~ was wanting. Contound it. Brand!
I’m not such a duffer as you think.”
Brand did not retaliate. He turned
to his friend and said gravely, “To me
the matter is inexplicable. Take your
own course, as I promised you should.”
Then he sat down, looking deliciously
crestfallen, and wearing the discon
tented expression always natural to
him when worsted in argument.
It was now Carriston’s turn. He
plied me with many questions. In
fact, I gave him the whole history of
my adventure. “What kind of house is
it?” he asked.
"Better than a cottage—scarcely a
farm-house. A place, I should think,
with a few miserable acres of bad land
belonging to it. One of those wretched
little holdings which are simply curses
to the country.”
He made lots of other inquiries, the
purport of which I could not then di
vine. He seemed greatly impressed
when I told him that the man had
never for a moment left me alone.
He shot a second glance of triumph at
Brand, who still kept silent, and
looked as if all the wind had been
taken out of his sails.
"How far is the place?” asked Car
rleton. "Could yon drive me there
after dark?”
At this question the doctor returned
to life. "What do you mean to do?”
he asked his friend. "Let us have no
nonsense. Even now I feel sure that
Fenton is misled by some chance re
semblance
"Deuce a bit, old chap,” I said.
“Well, whether or not, we needn’t
do foolish things. We must go and
swear information and get a search
warrant,-and the assistance of the po
lice. The truth is, Richard,” he con
tinued, turning to me, "we have rea
son to believe, or I should say Carris
ton persists in fancying that a friend
of his has for some time been kept in
durance by the man whom you say you
recognised.”
"Likely enough,” I said. “He looked
villain enough for anything up to mur
der.”
“Anyway,” said Brand, “we must do
everything according to law.”
“Law! I want no law,” answered
Carriston. “I have found her as I
knew I should find her. I shall simply
fetch her, and at once. You can come
with me or stay- here, as you like, doc
tor, but I am afraid I must trouble your
friend to drive me somewhere near the
place he speaks of.”
Foreseeing an adventure and great
fun—moreover, not unmoved by
thoughts of revenge—I placed myself
entirely at Carriston’s disposal. He
expressed his gratitude and suggested
that we should start at once. In a few
minutes we were ready and mounted
the dog cart. Brand, after grumbling
loudly at the whole proceeding, finished
up by following us, and installing him
self in the back seat. Carriston placed
a parcel he carried inside the cart, and
away we went.
It was now nearly dark, and raining
very heavily. I had my lamps light
ed, so we got along without much dif
ficulty. The roads were deep with
mud; but by this time the snow had
been pretty nearly washed away from
everywhere. I don’t make a mistake in
a road twice, so in due course we
reached the scene of my upset. Here
I drew up.
‘•The house lies about five hundred
yards'up the lane,” I told Carriston;
“we had better get out here.”
“What about the horse?" asked
Brand.
“No chance of any one passing this
way on such a night as this, so let us
put out the lamps and tie him up
somewhere.*’
We did so, then struggled on afoot
•’t itil we saw the gleam of light which
.-.ad been so welcome to me two nights
before.
It was about as dark as pitch; but,
guided by the light, we went on until
we stood in front of the house, where
a turf bank and a dry hedge hid us
from sight, although on such a night
we had little fear of our presence being
■ discovered.
“What do you mean to do now?”
asked Brand, in a discontented whis
per. “You can’t break into the house.”
Carriston said nothing for a minute,
then I felt him place his hand on my
• shoulder.
“Are there any horses, any cows
about the place?” he asked.
I told him I thought that my surly
friend rejoiced in the possession of a
horse and cow.
“Very well. Then we must wait.
'He'll come out to see them before he
:gocs to bed,” said Carriston, as de
cidedly as a general giving orders just
before a battle.
.1 could not set how Brand expressed
hie feelings upon hearing this order
from our commander—I know I
shrugged my shoulders, and, if I said
nothing, I thought a deal. The present
situation was all very well for a strong
ly interested party like Carriston, but
he could scarcely expect others to rel
ish the prospect of waiting, it might be
for hours, under that comfortless
hedge. We were all wet to the skin,
and, although I was extremely anxious
to see the end of the expedition, and
find poetical Justice meted out to my
late host, Carriston’s Fabian tactics
lacked the excitement I longed for.
Brand, in spite of his disapproval of
the -whole course of action, was better
oft than I was. As a dootor, he must
have felt sure that, provided he could
survive the exposure, he would secure
two fresh patients. However, we made
no protest, but waited for events to de
velop themselves.
v. •
ORE than half an
hour went by. I
was growing
numbed and tired,
and beginning to
think that we were
making asses of
ourselves, when I
heard the rattle of
a chain, and felt
Carriston give my
arm a warning
touch. No doubt my late host had
made sure that his new door fastenings
were equal to a stronger test than that
to which I had subjected the former
ones, so we were wise In not attempt
ing to carry his castle by force.
The door opened and closed again. I
saw the feeble glimmer of a lantern
moving toward the outhouse In which
my horse had been stabled. I heard a
slight rustling in the hedge, and,
stretching out my arm, found that Car
riston had left my side. In the ab
sence of any command from him I did
not follow, but resumed the old occu
pation—waiting.
In a few minutes the light of the lan
tern reappeared; the bearer stood on
the threshold ofkthe house, while I won
dered what Carriston was doing. Just
as the door was opened for the boor’s
readmittance, a dark figure sprang
upon him. I heard a fierce oath and
cry of surprise; then the lantern flew
ont of the man’s hand, and he and his
assailant tumbled struggling through
the narrow doorway.
“Hurrah! the door is won, anyway!”
I shouted as, followed closely by the
doctor, I jumped over the hedge and
rushed to the scene of the fray.
Although Carriston’s well conceived
attack was so vigorous and unexpected
that the man went down under it; al
though our leader utilized the advan
tage he had gained in a proper and
laudable manner, by bumping that
thick bullet head as violently as he
'could against the flags on which it lay,
I doubt if, after all, he could have done
his work alone. The countryman was
a muscular brute and Carriston but a
stripling. However, our arrival speed
ily settled the question.
“Bind him!” panted Carriston; “there
is cord in my pocket.” He appeared
to have come quite prepared for con
tingencies. While Carriston still em
braced his prostrate foe, and Brand, to
facilitate matters, knelt on his shoul
der, sat on his head, or did something
else useful, I drew out from the first
pocket I tried a nice length of half inch
line, and had the immense satisfaction
of trussing up my scowling friend in
a most workmanlike manner. He must
have felt those turns on his wrist for
days afterward. Yet when we were
at last at liberty to rise and leave him
lying helpless on his kitchen floor, I
considered I exercised great self-de
nial in not bestowing a few kicks upon
him, as he swore at us in his broadest
vernacular in a way which under the
circumstances, was no doubt a comfort j
to him. . -
We scarcely noticed the man's wife
while we rendered her husband help
less. As we entered she attempted to
fly out, but Brand, with the prompti
tude which, I am glad to record, Inter
cepted hex-, closed the door, turned and
pocketed the key. After that the
woman sat on the floor and rocked her
self to and fro.
For some moments, while recovering
his breath, Carrlston stood and posi
tively glared at his prostrate foe. At
last he found word3.
“Where is ohe? Where is the key,
you hound?” ho thundered out, stoop
ing over the fellow and shaking him
with a violence which did my heart
good. As he received no answer save
the unrecordable expressions above
mentioned, we unbuttoned the wretch’s
pockets and searched those greasy re
ceptacles. Among the usual litter we
did certainly find a key. Carrlston
snatched at it, and shouting “Made
line! Madeline! I come,” rushed out
of the room like a maniac, leaving
Brand and me to keep guard over our
prisoners.
I filled a pipe, lit it, and then came
back to my fallen foe.
“I say, old chap,” I said, stirring
him gently with the toe of my boot,
“this will bo a lesson to you. Remem
ber, I told you that civility costs noth
ing. If you had given me Christian
bed accommodation instead of making
me wear out my poor bones on that
infernal chair, you could have jogged
; yr
■-? i...
along in your rascality comfortably,
■o tar as I am concerned."
He was very ungrateful—so much
bo that my desire to kick him was In
tensified. I should not like to swear
I did not to a slight degree yield to
the temptation.
"Push a handkerchief in his mouth,”
cried Brand suddenly. “A lady is com
ing.”
With right good will I did as the
doctor suggested.
Just then Carrlston returned. I don’t
want- to raise home tempests, yet I
must say he was accompanied by the
most beautiful creature my eyes have
ever lighted upon. True, she was pale
as a lily—looked thin and delicate,
and her face bore traces of anxiety and
suffering—>but for all that she was
beautiful—too beautiful for this world,
I thought, as I looked at her. 8he was
clinging in a half-frightened, half-con
fldlng way to Carrlston, and he—happy
fellow!—regardless of our presence,
was showering down kisses on her
sweet pale face. Confound it! I grow
quite romantic as I recall the sight of
those lovers.
A most curious young man, that Car
riston. He came to us, the lovely girl
on hie arm, without showing a trace
of his recent excitement.
"Let us go now,” he said, as calmly
as1f he had been taking a quiet even-'
lng drive. Then he turned to me.
“Do you think, Mr. Fenton, you
could without much trouble gtt the
dog cart up to the house?”
I said I would try to do so.
“But what about these people?”
asked Brand.
Carrlston gave them a contemptu
ous glance.
“Leave them alone,” he said; "they
are but the tools of another—him I
cannot touch. Let us go.”
“Yes, yes. But why not verify our
suspicions while we can?”
.Just like Brand! He’s always want
ing to verify everything.
In searching for the key we had
found some papers on our prisoner.
Brand examined them, and handed
to Carrlston an envelope which con
tained what appeared like banknotes.
Carrlston glanced at it. “The hand
writing is, of course, disguised," he
said carelessly, “but the postmark
shows whence It came. It 1b as I al
ways told you. You.agree with me
now?”
“I am afraid I must,’* said Brand,
humbly. “But we must do something
about this man,” he continued.
Hereupon Carriston turned to our
prisoner. “Listen, you villain,” he
said. “I will let you go scot-free if
you breathe no word of this to your
employer for the next fortnight. If
he learns from you what has happened
before that time, I swear you shgU
go to penal servitude. Which do you
choose ?”
I pulled out the gag, and it is need
less to say which the fellow chose.
Then I went oil and recovered the
horse and cart. I relighted the lamps,
and with some difficulty got the dog
cart up to the house. Carriston must
have exactly anticipated the events of
the night. The parcel he had brought
with him contained a bonnet and a
thick warm cloak. His beautiful
friend was equipped with these; then,
leaving the woman of the house to un
tie her husband at her leisure and
pleasure, away we started, the doctor
sitting by me, Carriston and the lady
behind.
We just managed to catch the
last train from C-—. Not feeling
sure as to what form inquiries might
take tomorrow, I thought it better to go
up to town with my friends, so, as we
passed through Mldcombe, I stopped,
paid my bill, and gave instructions for
my luggage to be forwarded to me.
By six o'clock the next morning we
were all in London.
(TORS COXTIXOSD.I
Turning Diamonds Into Graphite.
Elementary chemistry teaches us
that, as far as the nature of the sub
stance composing them is concerned,
there is almost no difference between a
brilliant white diamond and the black
graphite forming the core of a lead
pencil. Both are simply forms of car
bon, and if we could readily turn one
into the other, the diamond would cease
to rank as the king of gems. In fact,
very minute diamonds have recently
been made in this way by Monsieur
Moissan, the French chemist. Graphite
can be dissolved in molten iron, and
when the iron cools the graphite
crystallizes. By performing this
operation in a particular man-1
ner, which has heretofore been I
described in this column, Monsieur j
Moissan gets microscopic crystals, not
of graphite, but of diamond. Curiously
enough, now that we know how
graphite can be turned into diamond,
it has also been discovered that dia
mond can be changed into graphite.
This is effected by placing a diamond
in an exhausted Crookes tube. In such
a tube it is believed that invisiblo
molecules of matter are continually
darting about, and these molecules pro
duce a ceaseless bombardment on the
surface of the diamond. ‘ After a time 1
the effect becomes visible in a black
stain, or crust, covering the diamond.
On examination this is found to be
composed of graphite.
Staying Power*.
Gentleman—"Has your horse good
staying powers, cabby?” Cabby on
rank (with grim humor)—"Stayin’ pow
ers? Well, I should say so, guv’nor.
'E ain’t moved from this blessed spot
for five hours.”—Fun.
“Wilkes is a most absurd somnambu
list.” “What’s he done now?” “He’s
Just come back from a yachting holldty,
and last night he sat down in a bath
and baled it out until it flooded tbs
Whole floor.”—Tit-Bits.
DAISY AND POULTRY.
INTERESTING CHAPTERS FOR
OUR RURAL READERS.
Raw Successful Farmer* Operate This
Department of the Farm—A. Few
Hint* as to the Car* of Lira 8took
. Hi Poultry.
BARD’S Dairyman
says: There is more
dairy literature
floating around in
She news papers
than ever before in
the history of this
country. Some of it
is good and much
of it worse than
nothing, for it is
based on exploded
Ideas. The following twenty-three
points we find in a daily paper, evi
dently culled from some other source,
w we' do not know to whom to give
credit. In the main they are good sug
gestions:
SELECTION AND BREEDING.
1. Select the best cors in your herd,
or that you can buy, to keep, and dis
pose of the others.
2. The best cow for the dairy ts the
one that produces the greatest amount
of butter fat in a year (for food con
sumed) when being rightly fed.
3. Test your cows by weighing the
milk of each cow for a year and test
ing it occasionally with the Babcock
milk tester, and know how much but
ter fat each one does produce.
4. To renew or Increase your herd
raise the heifer calves from your best
cows.
5. Use the best dairy-bred sire you
can get; one, If possible, that has a
long line of ancestors and have been
Qrst-class dairy animals.
6. In this way you can make each
generation better than the' .preceding
one, if they have at all times proper
care and feed.
7. It is neither profitable nor neces
sary for a cow to go dry more than
four to six weeks.
8. Especially should your young
cows be watched and not allowed to
acquire the habit of drying up too
soon.
9. Darken the stable in which the
cows are milked through fly time. It
will not only economise the patience ot
the milker, but the cost of milk pro*
Auction as well.
10. Keep a" record of the time when
cows are bred, and have no guess
work about the time of calving.
11. Provide a roomy box stall, and
allow the cow to become accustomed
to it n week prior to calving.
12. Rich foods should be withheld
for a short time prior and subsequent
to calving.
IS. The udder should receive prompt
attention. An obstacle may be re
moved from the teat the first hour
.that might baffle science later.
14. A pail of scalded bran should be
given to the cow as soon as possible
after calving.
15. The calf should be permitted to
nurse its mother for two or three
days.
16. After separating the calf from
its mother, feed the natural milk as
soon as drawn, for a week or ten days.
17. Then begin gradually to substi
tute skim milk with oil meal jelly
stirred into it.
18. Scald the calf’s feed pail dally.
19. Feed three times a day and not
more than three quarts at a time until
the calf is well started.
20. Warm the milk by placing the
vessel that contains the milk in hot
water.
21. Warm the milk In 90 degrees
Fahrenheit.
22. Don’t trust your linger, but' a
thermometer. It will save many a
calf's life.
23. The man whose ideal of a cow
is high, coupled with good care, feed
and gentleness, is sure to receive the
highest profit in milk and pleasure
that can be made in dairying.
We will add a couple ot other
points:
24. Always clean out the box stall
after a cow has calved therein, and
thoroughly disinfect It with a solution
made of one part of sulphuric acid to
nine of water. This is to prevent
aeptlc poisoning ot the next cow,
which may easily occur.
25. Do not milk the udder out clean ■
until the four day after calving.
This will often prevent a chill, which
often produces milk fever.
Chicken Roost*.
A great many of our farmers seem to
think that a hen will do as well with a
poor roost as a good one. If I may
Judge from my own observation, says i
a writer in an exchange. The style of
roost that seems so scientific and eco
nomical to the general class of farmers
is that of the step or stair style—one
roost back and above the other. The
lower pole Is very close to the floor,
while the upper one Is, generally, as
near or nearer the roof or ceiling.' It
saves space, of course, but you are al
ways surer to find the lower pole near
ly empty, while the upper one is
crowded full. Often the fowls crowd
one another off with fatal effects. Some
argue that fowl wish to. roost high,
therefore the roosts should all be high
to satisfy their desires. It is true that
fowls wish to roost high, but it is an
inherited habit handed down from the
fowl in its natural state. They wish to
roost high to keep from danger. If
your house is kept well closed there is
no need of high and dangerous roosts.
I place my roost poles on a level and
about eighteen inches above the floor.
This is in the part of the room where
the air is the purest. The Impure air
rlBes to the celling and some gases
fall close to the floor; this style of
roost avoids both, as well as prevents
injury to fowls jumping down from the
roosts. For roosting poles I use a
2x3-inch scantling, rounded on one
edge to aa to fit the feet of the fowls.
I place them on trestles with suitable
notches la them, with the rounded
edge up. Keep the roosts clean, and
by placing oil or tar on the bottoms
of them you will be without lice. A
good coat of whitewash is also good
to keep away the pests. The diseases
caused by high roosts are mainly bum
ble-foot and lameness, but other dis
eases hare their origin from them.
IlNti of OoMIng Wet.
Mr. W. p. Alkln, Oraham, Texas, was
unfortunate In having some four
months old chicks get wet, the result
being that they have been sick ever
since. He states to the Poultry Keep*
er the details in a letter below:
”1 hgve a (lock of fourteen Black. Ml"
norcas about four months old. We had
a rain about one month ago and they,
all got wet and stayed wet all night.
In a few days I noticed a viscid mu
cousy blubber on their nostrils. They
do not have any canker in their mouths
or throat, but the roof of the mouth
seems inflamed. I have been using
coal oil, turpentine and csrbollo add,
with a medicine dropper, In the nose
and throat, but they do not Improve
very fast. Can you recommend any
thing to put in the feed? Will they be
lit tor breeders if they get well? They
look perfectly well and hearty. It you
did not look close and see the trash
sticking on their beaks you would not
suspldon anything being the matter
with them. I hare tour roosters la
tbe flock and they seem worse than the
pullets. I used peroxide of hydrogen
on them yesterday. Do you think that
good for them?"
The journal mentioned comments as
follows: We do not know of anything
more injurious to lour months' old
chicks than to become soaking and
remain so. If they had gotten wet dur
ing the day and had the warmth of the
sun, it might have been different, but
to remain wet all night means that
they were chilled through. It Is a sur
prise that they did not die in a few
days. The treatment Is correct but
laborious, and as the climate of Texas
is mild they may recover. If they
make a complete recovery they can be
used for breeding. The best remedy
is to add a teaspoonful of chlorate of
potash to each quart of drinking wa
ter, abd repeat the peroxide of hydro*
gen occasionally.
Look at That BuU.
Prof. Sheldon, the eminent English
authority on dairying, epeaks his mind
on the vicious practice of using scrub*
by, low grade bulls, as follows:
“Look, for instance, at the weedy,
miserable bulls that many farmers are
content to use in their herds—wretched
quadrupeds that should never be al
lowed to live beyond the age of veal.
Some men say, by way of excuse, ‘My
poverty, not my will, consents’; yet,
on the other band, it may be remarked
that no man can really afford to use
Inferior, low valued bulls In his herd.
That any man should continue to do so
year after year can only be regarded as
a kind of heedless infatuation which
precludes all hope of improvement.
‘The bull Is half the herd,’ is an axiom
which should be drilled into the mind
of every farmer’s son who Is himself
to be a dairy farmer—drilled in until
he fully realises what it means. That
there are many of the present genera
tion of farmers who do not half com
prehend the vast Importance of this is
greatly to be feared, for it is plainly
enough to be seen in the inferior sires
that are kept for stock purposes. It
would be interesting to hear the an
swers such men would give to the fol
lowing questions: What sort of stock
do you expect such a bull will get? or,
Dc you really expect to pay your Way
as a farmer by using a bull like that?
or. What would you say if you saw an
other man burdened with a similar
load of crass stupidity? Unfortunate
ly, it never occurs to them to put such
questions to themselves, and it is too
commonly nobody’s business to do so
In their default. There is no excuse
nowadays for a man who uses scrubby
bulls among his cowa Plenty of well
descended bulls are to be had at prices
within the reach of any man who can
afford to keep cattle at all.”
Essential* of a Dairy Farm.
A United States Agricultural Depart'
ment bulletin makes the following sum*
mary of what la essential In the suc
cessful, operation of a dairy farm:
A roomy, clean, dry, light and well
ventilated stable or cow house. To pro
duce good milk, cows must he comfort
able, and these conditions not only add
to their comfort, but are absolutely
necessary to keep them In the best of
health.
Healthy and clean cows, which ap
pear well fed and contented.
An abundance of pure water to which
cows sto given access at least twice a
day.
Feed of good quality, the grain and
coarse fodder should be free from dirt,
decay or a musty condition.
A spirit of kindness towards the
stock, exhibited by every one employed
about them, and gentleness of the ani
mals themselves.
Provision for washing and sterilizing
or scalding of utensils which come in
contact with milk.
Provision for straining, aerating and
cooling the milk in a clean atmosphere,
free from all stable and other odors.
This treatment should take place im
mediately after i.he milk is drawn from
each cow.
Facilities for storing milk and keep
ing it cold.
Especially great cleanliness In re
gard to everything connected with the
dairy. The atmosphere of the stable
should be pure and free from dust
when milking is being done. Employes
should carefully wipe the udders and
wash their hands before milking, and
should be in clean clothes. Whitewash
is a good disinfectant, and should be
seen in many more stables, and land
plaster should be sprinkled about to
absorb moisture and odors. < .
—fSSSB ;
TARIFF AND TRUSTS*
SUBJECTS THAT WERE DIS*
' CUSSED BY THE HOUSE.
Dockery of lllisoarl WnM the Oily
Suspended on AU Articles that At*
Control'- d by Combinations?- *
Wbot tbo Sonata Proposes to, :•>,
Do With tbo Tariff Bill.
—
Tariff Dtaeassloa mill O*. '
Washixotoic, March 37.—Thia morn*
inff the tariff leaders on both aldm |
were in their places, but there were
hardly seventy members on the floor, v
Mr. Lanham of Texas, as soon as the
enacting clause of the bill was read,
moved to strike it out Mr. Sherman
of New York, who was in the chair,
ruled that the motion wac ont of order.
Mr. Doekery of Missouri offered the
first amendment. It was to the eu>'
acting clause and was in the nature <of
* proviso that whenever It should be
shown to the satisfaction of the Presi
dent that there was a trustor com*
bination to control the prioe of any :
article on the dutiable list the duty on ■ v
such article should be suspended. Mr.
Dlngley made the point of order that
the amendment in effect was to the
free list and as the house was not con* :
sidering the dutiable list.it was not fas
order.
“I have great respect for the purlin* ■:
mentary knowledge of the gentleman
from Maine,” said Mr. Dockery, “but ;
as it is probable that the free list will
never be reached, I hope it will b« J
held in order now.”
Mr. Cooper offered a substitute for <,
the Dockery amendment, in substance :
| to accomplish the same purpose but
I containing a definition of a trust and
provision for the determination, of its '
existence by a court.
“If you are so anxious to ineorpor*
ate such1 a provision as this in the bill
why did you not insert it in this
present law?” asked Mr. Tawuey of •
Minnesota.
“Trusts had not gone quite so far
then," replied Mr. Richardson of Ten* '}'
nessee, amid laughter. He challenged ’
the other side, who ostensibly opposed
trusts, to aid in the adoption of the .
amendment. .“I have never before,”
said he, “heard suoh insincere objeo.
tions to a just amendment”
Mr. Bailey made an extended argn
ment, appealing to the majority to aid
in putting down these combmatiods.'
which “preyed upon the energies of thu
people." . e
Mr. Hepburn of Iowa raised ft laugh .
on (he Democratic side by saying that
this amendment if adopted would da- )
feat the purpose of the. bill. “Don’t ' -
laugh," he shouted, waving his hand.
He explained how easy it would be for '
a few men who really desired free 1
wool and free sugar to effect a combi- V
nation to raise the prices of sugar and
wool and thus under the amendment'
force those articles to the free list
Mr. Bailey thanked Mr. Hepburn fop
his frank admission that the. deatruo-'
tion of trusts would Interfere with the
purpose of the bill.
“Oh, no,” said Mr. Hepburn, “I was
trying to show that under the pretense -
of creating a trust this legislation" §
could be destroyed.” r ■
“But could not the courts decide be
tween a sham trust and a real trust?” ’
asked Mr. Terry.
j “I suppose the courts could,” replied
Mr. Hepourn “but shall the revenue
of the country be destroyed because of f
the existence in violation of the law of :
a real trust? Trusts, are illegal. Their
creators are criminals. Shall we plaon . :
the treasury's revenue at the mercy of </;
criminals?” ■■'y&i
Mr. Simpson said he thought the
majority were very much more eon
cerned about the falling off of the
revenues of trusts than the falling off K:»
of the revenue of the treasury.
Mr. Grosvenor declared that them I
never was a time when the trusts had <A
the government and the people by the
throat.as they bad in the last foar
years and now, when the Democrats
were again in the minority, they came
here and raised a great fog about 2
trusts The ways and means commit
tee had already been assailed because 's
they had refused to accede to the de
mand of the sugar trust for an ad vab
orem duty on sugar. if
* Usd Yesr for Millers. '
Topeka, Kan.,March??.—Theforth- %
coming' report of the State Labor if
bureau will show that the past twe%fi
years have been particularly severe
upon the milling industry, due to the
scarcity of good wheat and the high i
price of that product. Only 115 of the '
450 mills in the state compiled with the
request of the labor commissioner for
statistics For the mills reported the
capital invested in the industry aggre
gates 93,010,540. As only 88 answered
this question, the labor commissioner
estimates that the total aggregation -2
for the state would be double the sum
named. *_'__ . -
Opposes Mm right ritlitn
A (.RANT, N. Y., March 27.— Senator
Koehler has introduced a hill making
it unlawful to exhibit in any place in
the state, by mefms of any picture*,
pictorial prints, i scenes or perform*
ances, or by any illustrated publics*
tlons. any representations of any
pugilistic or boxing contests, or of any
fistic encounters or any similar kind or
character whatever.
m
May Appoint Blttlnger.
Washington, March 27.—President
McKinley is seriously, considering
naming Major John L. Bittinger as
postmaster at St Joseph. This new
turn in the St Joseph deadlock came
yesterday when the President himself
suggested that a good way to end the
controversy was to appoint Major Bit*
tinger.
Colonel t C, Baker Dead,
St. Louis. Mo., March 27.—After an
illness of three weeks. Colonel L. C.
Baker, superintendent of the second
division of the Western Union Tele
graph company, died here at 7 o’clock
last night of heart trouble. Funeral
services will be held here and the in
terment will beat Little Bock, Ark.
lie left a widow and eight children.
■v-S
%
Sullivan'* Money Is (Fp.
Boston, Mass., March 27.—Frank W
Dunn, manager for John L. Sullivan,
posted 91,000 with a temporary stake
holder to bind a match with Bob Fitm
simmon*
■MfM
.Jj
