INTERNATIONAL PRESS ASSOCIATION..
CHAPTER XIII.—(Continued.)
They passed from room to room, find
ing each one gloomier than its preie
oessor. The old man pointed out *C*ie
pictures and various relics which he
thought might be interesting, Knd
Caussidiere glanced about him nlth
■eyes like a hawk. As they passed on
ward his face became less radiant; a
frown of weariness and disappoint
ment began to cloud his brow. At
length the whole of the castle had been
■examined, and the two men began to
-descend the quaint oaken stairs. Caus
sidiere, lingering as if in no haste to
go, still talked pleasantly and glanced
Impatiently about him.
Presently they passed the half open
■door of a kind of boudoir. Caussidiere,
who had looked keenly in, paused sud
denly.
"Surely,” he said, "I know that face!”
The old man went forward and
pushed open the door, and the French
man, following closely behind him, en
tered the room and stood thoughtfully
regarding the object which had arrest
ed his attention. It was a picture, a
good sized painting, which hung above
■the mantelpiece.
“ ’Tie Marjorie Annan,” explained the
old man, “foster daughter to the minis
ter. ’Twas painted by Johnnie Suther
land. The mistress bought it because
she likes the lassie, and because it has
a favor o’ hersel’.”
The Frenchman stared.
••Like Miss Hetherington?”
"Ay, like hersel’,” returned the old
maj. "You’d be no denying Itself if
you saw the picture in that press. ’Tls
Miss Hetherington at seventeen or
■eighteen years of age.”
“I should like to see the picture.”
“Aweel, aweel, you should see it; but
the press is locked and Mysie has the
Irotr **
“You could not get It, I suppose?”
“Ay, I could get it,” returned Sandle,
•still under the influence ot the French
man’s gold. “Bide awhile and you
shall see.”
He shuffled off, leaving the French
man alone.
The moment he was gone Caussi
diere’s lace and manner underwent a
complete change. He sprang from the
\ room, as It were, with cat-like fury,
j2| turned over papers, opened drawers,
Jpransacking everything completely. At
last he came upon a drawer which
would not open; it was in a writing
•cabinet, the counterpart of one he had
at home; he pressed a hidden spring;
In a moment the drawer flew open, and
•Caussidiere was rapidly going over the
papers which it contained.
Suddenly he started, drew forth a
paper, opened, and read it. A gleam of
light passed over his face. He folded
the paper, thrust it into the inner
pocket of his coat and closed the draw
er. When the old man returned with
his key he found Caussidiere, with his
hands behind him, regarding the pic
ture of Marjorie Annan.
CHAPTER XIV.
HILE the persever
ing Caussidiere was
inspecting the in
terior of Annandale
Castle, Miss Heth
erington was busily
making inquiries
about him at Dum
fries.
To her own dis
appointment she
learned nothing to
the Frenchman’s discredit, but, deter
mined to break up all relations between
him and Marjorie, she visited the
manse the next day and secured Mr.
Lorraine’s consent that Marjorie should
discontinue her French lessons for the
present.
This done, she ordered the coach
man to drive to Dumfries.
When they reached the town they
drove straight to Caussidiere’s lodg
ing, and with a very determined faqje
the lady of the Castle descended and
walked up the doorsteps.
She knocked sharply at the dooa,
which was immediately opened by a
servant girl.
“I’m seeking the gentleman that
lodges here—the French teacher,” she
said, stepping without ceremony Into
the lobby.
Caussidiere, who was within, pit his
head out of the door of his room, and
recognized his visitor at once with a
beaming smile.
“Pray step this way, Miss Hethering
ton,” he cried. “I am delighted to see
vou!"
She followed him Into his little sit
tin groom, and stood leaning upon her
staff and looking at him with her black
eyes, while he drew forward a chair
and begged her to be seated. She nodd
ed grimly and glanced round the apart •
meat at the table littered with corn -
spohdence, at the books scattered her a
and there, at the roses and creepers
which peeped in at the open window.
Then she walked to the chair he had
prepared for her, and sitting down,
looked at him fixedly again. Not in the
least daunted, he stood smiling at her,
and waiting for her to explain her
business.
At last she spoke in her native
tongue.
"First and foremost, how muckie is
Marjorie Annan owing to ye for her
French lessons?"
As she asked the question, Miss Heth
•rington drew out on old fashioned silk
| purse and began examining Its con
tents. Finding that the Frenchman
did not reply, she looked up and repeat
ed it. i
[ “How muckle Is Marjorie Annan ow
ing ye? Tell me that, If you please.”
"Nothing, Miss Hetherington,” he re
plied.
“Naethlng? Then Marjorie has paid
ye already, maybe.”
"Yes, she has paid toe,” returned
Caussidiere, quietly.
Naturally enough his manner had
changed, and his courteous smile had
given way to a cold expression of
hauteur, tempered with gentle indig
nation.
“How muckle has she paid ye?” de
manded the lady of the castle.
"She has paid me,” answered the
Frenchman, “with her sympathy, with
her sweet society. I have not taken
money from her. I shall never take it.
My labor, Miss Hetherington, has been
a labor of love.”
The lady’s eyes flashed, and putting
up her purse, she Uttered an impatient
exclamation.
“Nae doubt,” she cried. “But from
this day forward your labor’s done. I
have come here to pay you your hire,
and to tell you with my ain mouth that
Marjorie Annan’s French lessons are
ended, and that if she needs mair she'll
get them from another teacher.”
Caussidiere flushed angrily, but still
preserved his composure.
“May I ask a question, Miss Hethsr
inieton?”
“If you please.”
“I should like to know what authority
you have to act on behalf of my dear
pupil? I don’t ask out of mere curi
osity; hut you would oblige me by in
forming me if the young lady herself
has requested you to come here on so
peculiar an errand?”
“The young lady?—a bairn who tens
naethlng of the world.”
“But, pardon me, had you her au
thority to dismiss me, or that of her
guardian?”
“The bairn’s a bairn, and the minis
ter's old and foolish. I’ve ta’en the
business into my own hands.”
“Indeed!” exclaimed Caussidiere, still
sarcastically smiling.
“Ay, indeed!” repeated the lady, with
growing irritation. "And I warn you,
once for a’, to cease meddling with the
lassie. Ay, ye may smile! But you’ll
smile, maybe, on the wrong side of
your face, my friend, if ye dinna tak’
the warning I bring ye, and cease mo
lesting Marjorie Annan.”
It was clear that Caussidiere was
amused. Instead of smiling now, he
laughed outright, still most politely, but
with a self satisfaction wnich was very
irritating to his opponent. Subduing his
amusement with an efflort, he quietly
took a chair, and sat down opposite
Miss Hetberington.
“Weel,” she cried, striking with her
stall ilpon the floor, “what’s your an
swer to my message?”
“You must give me a little time, you
have so taken me by surprise. In the
first place, why do you object to my
friendship for the young lady? My in
terest in her is great; I respect and
admire her beyond measure. Why can
we not be friends? Why can I not con
tinue to be her teacher?”
“A bonny teacher! A braw friend!
Do you think I’m blind?”
“I think,” said Caussidiere, with a
mocking bow, “that your eyes are very
wide open, Miss Hetherington. You
perceive quite clearly that I love Miss
Annan.”
The lady started angrily.
“What?” she cried.
“I love her, and hope some day, with
your permission, to make her my
wife.”
Trembling from head to foot, Miss
Hetherington started to her feet.
“Your wife!” she echoed, as if thun
derstruck.
“Why not?” asked Caussidiere, calm
ly. “I am not rich, but I am a gentle
man, and my connections are honor
able, I assure you. Why, then, should
you distrust me so? If you will per
mit me, I think I can give you very
good reasons for approving of my union
with Miss Annan.”
"How daur ye think of it?” cried Miss
Hetherington. "Marry that bairn! I
forbid ye even to come near her, to
speak wl’ her again."
Caussidiere shrugged his shoulders.
"Let us return,if you please, to where
we began. You have not yet Informed
me by what right you attempt to inter
fere with the happiness of my dear pu
“By what right?"
“Precisely. What may be the na
ture ol your relationship with the
young lady?”
As he spoke he fixed his eyes keenly
upon her, to her obvious embarrass
ment. Her pale face grew paler than
ever. '
“I am Marjorie Annan’s friend,” she
answered, after a pause.
“Of that 1 am aware, Miss Hethering
ton. I am aware also that you have
been very kind to her; that you have
assisted her from childhood with large
sums out of your own pocket May I
ask, without offense, have you done :iR
this out of pure philanthropy, because
you have such a charitable heart?"
He 8till watched her with the same
half sarcastic, penetrating look. Her
embarrassment increased, and she did
not reply; but her lips became dry, and
■he moistened them nervously with the
Up of her tongue.
Suddenly his manner changed and he
rose smiling from his seat
"You are fatigued,” he said, politely.
“Let me offer you a glass of wine."
She declined his offer with an angry
gesture, and moved toward the door.
"I hae warned you,” she said in a low
voice. "1 hae warned you and forbid*
den you. If ye‘ didn’t heed my warn
ing, I’ll maybe find some other means
to bring you to your senses.”
She would have left the house, but
quietly approaching the door, he set his
back against it and blocked the way.
“Pray do not go yet,” he said. “Par
don me, hut you must not. You have
given me your message, my dear Miss
Hetheringtou; now let me ask you to
hear mine.”
“What’s your will with me?” she
cried, Impatiently.
“Will you sit and listen a little
while?”
“I’ll stand where I am. Weol?”
“First let me thank you far the kind
ness of your servant in showing me
over the beautiful castle where you live.
I am Interested in all old houses, and
yours is charming.”
She stared at him in blank amaze
ment.
"The Castle? when were you there?”
“Just before I returned to Dumfries.
I regretted that you were not at home,
in order that I might ask your kind
permission; but in your absence I took
the liberty of making a reconnaissance.
I came away delighted with the place.
The home of your ancestors, I pre
sume?”
The words were innocent enough, but
the speaker's manner was far from as
suring, and his eyes, keenly fixed on
hers, still preserved that penetrating
light—almost a threat.
“Dell tak’ the man. Why do you
glower at me like that? You entered
my house like a thief, then, when I wa3
awa’?”
“Ah, do not say that; It is ungener
ous. I went merely as an amateur to
see the ruins, and I found—what shall
I say?—so much more than I expect
ed.”
He paused,while she stood trembling;
then he continued:
“The Castle is so picturesque,the ruin
so interesting, and the pictures—the
pictures are so romantic and so strange.
Ah, it is a privilege, indeed, to have
such a heritage and such an ancestry;
to belong to a family so great, so full
of honor; to have a ’scutcheon without
one blot since the day when the first
founder wore it on his shield.”
It was clear that he was playing with
her, laughing at her. As he proceeded,
his manner became almost aggressive
in its studied insolence, its polite sar
casm. Unable any longer to restrain
her anger, Miss Hetherington, with
outstretched hand, moved toward the
door.
“Stand airs’, and let me* pass.”
He obeyed her in a moment, and with
a profound bow drew aside; but as she
passed him, and put her trembling hand
upon the door handle, he said in a low
voice close to her ear:
“It would be a pity, perhaps, alter
all, to quarrel with one who knows so
much.”
She turned furiously, and fixed her
eyes upon him.
“What’s that?” she cried.
"Who knows so much, let us say,
about the morals of your bonny Scot
land as compared with those of la belle
France."
“What do you mean? Speak out!
What do ye mean?”
He smiled, and bending again cloae
to her ear, he whispered something
which drove the last tint of blood from
her cheek, and made her stagger and
gasp as if about to fall. Then, before
she could recover herself, or utter a
single word, he said aloud, with the
utmost politeness:
“And now, my dear lady, will you
stay a little while longer, and talk with
me about Marjorie Annan?”
' (TO BE CONTINUED.)
ABOUT SUMMER DISHES.
Mrs. Borer's Way of Reducing the Cook
ing to the Minimum.
“Much summer cooking may be done
on the installment plan,” writes Mrs. S.
T. Rorer on ‘ISummer Dishes With Lit
tle Fire,” in the Ladies’ Home Journal.
“If asparagus is ordered for today’s din
ner, cook double quantity, and serve
that remaining for tomorrow’s salad.
From a fricassee of chicken for dinner
the giblets may be served for giblet
stew for the next day’s luncheon. You
will thereby gain a dish without extra
cost. Potted fish, with cucumber sauce,
may be served as a first course in place
of soup, but if the latter is preferred, a
quick soup may be made by stirring
beef extract Into boiling water, and sea
soning it with celery seed and bay leaf.
Where light meats are to be served
some of the cream soups are not out of
place, as they contain nourishment eas
ily digested. Cream of potato, cream
of pea, tomato, celery, asparagus, rice,
squash, cucumber and lima bean soups
are all very acceptable in hot weather.
During- the heated term the roast Joint
might be served cold, nicely garnished
with edible greens. With it hot vege
tables might be served. The hot meat
dishes should be light and quickly
cooked. Do away with the large Joints
the pot roasts and the heavy bolls, and’
substitute chops, smothered beef, rolled
steak, broiled steak, Hamburg steak or
Turkish meat balls. Stuffed vegetables
may be served occasionally In the place
of meat—egg plant stuffed with meat
and bread crumbs, and tomatoes and
sqush prepared in the same way.
Slow cooking makes these vegetables
palatable and wholesome.”
Religion without love la fanaticism.
Religion with love is a tongue of fire.
—Ref. Dr. Magruder, Methodist. Cift*
clnnati, O.
_ . . . • "■ •’ •"
DAIRY AND POULTRY.
INTERESTING! CHAPTERS FOR
OUR RURAL READERS.
Row Soceeufol Forman Operate Thle
Department of the Farm—A Few
Hint* at to the Care of Lire Stock
and Poultry.
Care of Poultry.
F you want your
chicks to have
bright yellow legs,
never allow them
to run or wallow
where unleached
wood ashes have
been thrown, they
will bleach them
v white. Use sulphur
sparingly or It will
kill more chicks
than it cures, yet it can be used Ju
dicially on old fowls. If lice have ac
cumulated during incubation they will
easily be seen on the heads of the
chicks. When you take the mother hen
off with her brood rub her well under
her wings and body with grease. When
she broods her chicks their heads come
in contact with the grease, which the
lice can not long endure. Give her a
Rood place to dust herself in and she
will soon rid herself and chicks of the
pests. Keep the chicks from huddling
in heaps at night after the hen leaves
them, lest some get too warm, after
wards taking cold, which ends in roup,
the dreaded disease. I fear it more
than cholera, although I never had the
latter in my flock, and by keeping
everything strictly clean you need
nOVHl> foam I*
I often read In the poultry Journals
that It la not much work to take care
of poultry. 1 have always found It
Just the reverse. Still, I like It for the
out-door exercise and natural love I
have for pets. I also found It very re
munerative, but 1 find there Is as great
a demand for that article called com
mon sense In poultry raising as In
everything else. The third year I gave
poultry my attention I kept a strict
account with the biddies. I had thir
ty-two Light Brahma hens and forty
half-bloods for sitters. In the early
spring I sold ninety-two sittings of
eggs, twenty-two half-bloods for sit
ters, and raised near 700 chicks. I sold
some for broilers and some for breed
ing purposes, and packed over 150
dozen eggs during the Bummer. I sold
all the culls Thanksgiving, and at the
end of the year the books showed a
balance In my favor of (791.34. Since
that time I have kept no accurate ac
count, but am satisfied to continue un
til I find something better. Most of
the farmers have their poultry yards
overstocked; hence it costs more to
feed them, and they are not so remun
erative. Cull your flocks in early fall,
and the remainder will do better and
be more profitable. The cost of feeding
varies with the price of grain. Farm
ers do not teel this as we who have it
to buy. It the fowls have their lib
erty, the cost of feeding is a mere trifle.
It is estimated that one and a half
bushels of corn will keep a hen one
year. Our estimate of the cost of one
hen one year, In confinement, was
eighty-seven cents, but she had a vari
ety of food. Where they are comfort
ably housed It costs less to feed them,
and they will lay more eggs.
A few timely hints in regard to treat
ment as the weather grows warmer,
and I have done. During the heated
term, all kinds of vermin propagate
rapidly, and, if allowed, will prove to
be the pest “whose name is legion."
Examine your fowls frequently to make
sure they have no lice upon them, and
watch with a Jealous eye for the ap
pearance of the tiny, but abominable
pests—the poultry parasite. The
“ounce of prevention" should be
brought into requisition now, if ever.
If hens are kept sitting for late chicks!
have special care to provide a cool!
quiet place on the ground for them. A
little hollow made in the earth, with a
lining of clean, fresh grass, ’is suffi
cient. If the eggs get foul, wash them
clean in tepid water, line the nest with
fresh grass and replace the eggs. Care
fully study the habits of your hens with
chicks. They will be found to vary as
much as other folks in disposition and
habits. Such as prove quiet sitters,
careful and successful mothers, and
tractable when their keepers approach,
should be spared for another year’s ser
vice. I have one (Old Brownie) seven
years old, and 6he now has seventeen
hearty chicks. The great value of milk
as a food for poultry seems to be over
looked by farmers and those who have
plenty. It is good for them in all
shapes. It is eagerly eaten by them,
and they will thrive on it as they will
on nothing else. The above is largely
my own experience, and hence I know
whereof I speah. and I ffhd that by
proper devotion to the demands of the
nature of our fowls, one will have but
little use for the study of diseases. But
there is work about it, and there is
about anything we undertake if we do
it successfully. Constant vigilance is
the price of success in almost every
undertaking, and in none other is it
more applicable than in the breeding
and management of poultry, whether
pure bred or not, if profit is the desir
ed result
Outlook for the Cow.
We do not know of a greater business
than the production of milk. Not that
the production of milk is the greatest
Industry In the world at present, but It
Is very likely to become so in the fu
ture. There Is almost no limit to the
possibilities in this regard. Milk
drinking and milk using is largely a
thing that has been adopted by certain
communities, but where once adopted
It stays. There are still in the world
vast areas where the people do not
think of using cows* milk as a food,
and the reason Is that milk has not
been placed before them in a form that
I appeals to them as buyers. Especially
to thto true in tropical countries where
a few cow* here and there supply the
wants of large communities. They
supply the wants of the large com
munities because but few of the people
in those communities use milk in any
form. We heard some time ago of an
American who tried to get some butter
In a town of Venezuela. He tried to
find a grocer that had it for sale, but
was finally told that In all probability
he could get some at the drug store.
He went there and found that they had
a very small supply that was kept as a
permanent stock to be used for medical
purposes. Whether It was used for
outward or inward application deos not
appear. When the American asked for
a couple of pounds the native druggist
nearly fell over In astonishment, and
wondered what on earth the American
could do with two pounds of butter,
which, by the way, was about his whole
stock in trade. The butter, however,
was found to be rancid and decidedly
unfit for the Internal use intended by
the American. This but illustrates
that there are vast populations that
have got yet to be educated into the
milk and butter using habit.
In our large American cities the use
of milk is every year increasing. More
and more it is becoming an article of
universal diet. Even buttermilk is
coming into great demand In all of the
city restaurants and even multitudes
of saloons keep a supply of good, cold,
fresh buttermilk constantly on hand.
These are signs that the cow is to be
a strong factor in the economics of the
future. Two great considerations
come up in the spreading of this milk
drinking habit. First the quality of the
milk and second its cheapness. Both
sweet milk and buttermilk win their
way on their quality and if the farmer
wants his trade to increase he must
give the best milk that can be had.
We know of course that feed does not
cut a very great figure in the solid
contents of milk, but we cannot but
uuaua mat iccu uues nave very mucii to
do with the flavor and palat ability of
milk. Perhaps this point will be dis
puted, but we doubt if one that hag
been an habitual drinker of milk will
be satisfied to take It from any cow ana
from any food. We know that with
domestic animals used for food, the
food on which they hare been grown
and fattened transmits its flavor to the
flesh. Thus the water-fowl that feeds
on fleh Is so fishy that it Is very dis
tasteful to many. The beeveB, mut
tons and swine are notably affected to
such an extent that It makes a great
difference on the market Can it be
doubted, therefore, that the feed does
have a very great effect on the quality
of the milk? The cows that are fed on
pasture grass alone will not produce a
milk that the city people will relish
as they will milk produced from grass
and mlllfeeds. Especially is this true
In the early part of the summer when
after heavy rains there la a decided
grass flavor to the milk.
So far as cost is concerned the only
way It can be'put on the market at a
lower rate than present Is to elmlnate
the waste and the selling of milk to
people that never pay. So far as the
restaurants are concerned this Is not
of much consequence, provided that
milk does not go up as It has in Wash
ington, Baltimore and some other cit
ies, where It sells at ten cents per
quart. In Chicago It still sells for five
and six cents per quart and should be
kept at this point If possible. It
should be kept at this point to keep up
a steady demand that will prevent the
supply ^Increasing faster than the de
mand and thus In the not distant fu
ture causing a collapse. Restaurants
sell their milk by the glass at about 20
cents per qqart. Recently on the
streets of Chicago we noticed a man
that had a stand for the sale of Ice-cold
buttermilk. He sold it at two cents
per glass, which would be about eight
cents per quart or more. His glasses
were of a size that would require about
five for a quart, so we may say that be
got ten cents a quart for his milk. He
seemed to have a brisk trade. But one
day he disappeared from his corner,
and the people that had begun to drink
buttermilk there and had begun to
form the habit felt his loss. Probably
he had moved to some place in the city
where trade was brisker than at his
first stand. His being missed, how
ever, shews what a vast amount of but
tertnllk might be disposed of In this
way.
Beef-Producing Cattle.—There Is at
present a tendency to Increase the num
ber and improve the quality of the beef
producing cattle on our farms. Owing
to the long period of depression In the
cattle Industry the farm herds of beef
bred cattle were seriously reduced or
so crossed with dairy blood as to Im
pair or destroy their usefulness for
beef production. Many of the splendid
pure-bred herds in the Ohio valley and
eastward were dispersed. The well
bred steers formerly raised in such
great numbers in this section became
bard to get, and feeders have been more
and more dependent on the West for
:he stock to consume their grain. This
resulted In good prices for feeding cat
tle, which has again stimulated the
breeding of good beef cattle on the
farms. More beef-bred hulls are now
going to these farms than for a long
time. This is the forerunner of a great
advance in farm beef production, but it
Is doubtful if the industry again
reaches its old-time importance in the
Ohio valley and eastward.—Ex.
Water in Milk.—The less frequently
the milk is taken from the udder the
greater is its proportion of water, the
last portions removed being generally
the richest in butter. Evening milk U
much richer in butter and casein
than the morning milk, the salts
remaining about the same. When
the animal is given abundance of
food it Increases both the amount
of casein and fat, while a les
sened diet diminishes the total solids.
Rest seems to encourage the formation
of butter, exercise impoverishing the
milk in butter, but increasing its rich
ness In csuseln.
It
THE BANK SWINDLES.’
EXAMINED AND BOUND OVER
FOR TRIAL.
He Will n«T* to Answer for Forgery, for
llttwlDi Forced fspsr and for At*
tempting to Obtain Money Under False
Fretensee—A Clever Swindler and a
Man With an Interesting History.
■v-k'
Henry Under Arrest.
Henry, the bank swindler, had hla
preliminary hearing this morning be*
fore the county court, Bays a York dts*
patch to the Omaha Bee. He waived
examination and was bound over to
the next term of district court. His
bond was fixed at 91,000. In the
chargee filed against him there are
three counts, alleging him to be guilty
of forgery, uttering forged paper and
attempting to obtain money under
false pretenses. , ,
Henry has an Interesting hlBtory.
Hie clever swindle at York, where he
obtained $460 on d forged draft from
the First National bank, Was but one
of many operations of the same char
acter which he hea carried on in dif
ferent parts of the country. His cap
ture rids the bankers of the United
States of the last of the systematic
swindlers and forgers that have been
operating In the past decade upon
banking institutions. The ; National
Bankers’ association, under whose di
rection the matter was put into the
hands of the Pinkerton's, feels elated
over his capture. The officials of the
York bank have been very aggressive
in pushing the matter. They, in con
nection with the bankers’ association
and the detectives, have spared no
On last Saturday Assistant Superin
tendent Erel of the Pinkerton agency,
■who had' been detailed for tbls case,
wired the York bank that the man
had been traced to Hampton, 111., ■
smal town ten miles north of Rock
Island, where he was living with a
family. President Post, who was at
the time on a fishing trip to the Loup
river, hurried to Rock Island to meet
the detective. Henry was away from
home, and It was not until Thursday
that he was aprehended at Rock Island
on his way back to Hampton. He at
first denied all connection with the
York affair, but upon being shown the
evidence against him he confessed his
identity and guilt and agreed to ac
company the officer to York without a
requisition. He exonerates F. R.
Clark, the man who Introduced him
to the cashier of the bank, from com
plicity In the scheme.
It has been learned that Henry ha*
operated in the last two years under
assumed names upon banks in Den
ver, San Antonio, Tex., Atlantic, Ia„
Aberdeen. S. D.. and also In Burling
ton, la. His game In general was the
same as he worked here, the deposit
ing of a forged draft and the with
drawal in a day or two of part of the
deposit. Henry Is a good talker and
of meek, Inoffensive demeanor. He was
dark hair and eyes, end when in York
last March was smooth shaven. He
now wears a moustache. The forger
has apepared under the names of P.
A. Sullivan, E. A. Collins, Charles A.
Adams and W. S. Sweeney and others.
In 1880 Henry was arrested for for
gery In his home county and received
a sentence of three years In the peni
tentiary. He ate soap to look ema
ciated and got a pardon In the course
of six months on the grounds that ha
was dying of consumption. Blight years
ago he was again arrested and taken
to Ohio on the same charge. He suc
ceeded in making a settlement In this
case, but while In custody at Colum
bus his photograph was secured, which
has aided materially in the last cap
ture.
Henry is a man of high social rank
in Hampton. He has lived there all his
life, Is active In the affairs of the town
and county, occupying offices of
Justice of the peace, town clerk and,
having recently received and declined
the appointment of postmaster. He it
also a prominent candidate for a posi
tion in the state insane asylum neat
Hampton.
Stealing Everything In Sight.
Harness thieves are again getting
in their work In this community, says
an Elmwood dispatch. ..bout two
weeks ago R. T. Pope, who resides
three miles south and two miles east
of Elmwood, purchased a fine $40 set
of heavy work harness. He kept it
hanging In the house and it was but
three or four days until some one en
tered the house and> stole the lines
from the harness. He came to town,
bought some new lines, and sometime
last night some person or persons stole
the whole harness, taking with it a
couple of old collars This morning
when Mr. Pope discovered his loss he
Immediately set about to find the
thieves, who drove a single horse and
buggy, which he traced a couple of
miles and then lost sight of. Thieving
about the country is getting a little
too numerous, hardly a night passing
but what some farmer is minus some
poultry or other articles.
State Exposition rand.
Messrs. Poynter, Whttford and Duf
ton, the special committee of the Ne
braska state exposition commission to
report on a division of the fund among
the various interests of the state, made
a report at the session of the commis
sion recently. The report has not yel
been acted on, but it is believed It will
not be very materially changed. It if
as follows:
Building. $17,000; agriculture, $10,•
000; horticulture, $9,000; dairy and
poultry, $2,500 each; floral and forestry
$4,000; live stock, $5,000; education,
$4,000; apiary, $1,500; directors’ sal
aries, $4,500; office expenses, $600; of
fice force, $3,500; miscellaneous spacet
$1,000; building space, $3,500; making
a total of $68,600.
An Iowa man who travels over mucl
of Nebraska says that from a carefoi
estimate he figures that In the past sis
months there have been bought and
shipped into Nebraska 900,000 head oi
sheep, and that a large number mor*
have been contracted for. He said the
people did not realize that sheep rais
ing had suddenly become one of tht
leading industries of the state and that
It will result in a large increase of
wealth In a single year. The average
value of sheep In this state is $3.50 t
head, and, according to his figures, the
flocks brought into the state in the
last three or four months are worth '
1 over 18 000.000.