Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, June 30, 1900, Page 6

ee¢0¢ Or Under a Spell. e$e0o0 CHAPTER XXXII. (Continued.) “4s the drug working now,” whis- pered the listening woman to herself. “It can loosen even his proud, still tongue.” In a dreamy tone, her master con- ued: “{ was watching at his bedside—I, his nephew, his heir. Aye, had not Basil Clive aly taught me to be- Neve myself his heir? Had he not tac- ftly accepted me as such, again and egain? Grasping and greedy to all the fest of the world, he had been gener- ous and lavish to me alone—to me elone. “And, with the sunshine of fortune gilding my future, I asked Agnes Dean to be my wif Her proud family ‘would have scorned the penniless law yer, but they smiled on the rich man's heir. We were betrothed, and my first and only dream of happiness begun. “T was thinking of her as I watched by the dying man’s pillow—thinking of her grace, her eetness, her bright, gladsome beauty. I was planning, even then, our future—the future col- ered with every gorgeous hue of hap- piness and hope. i “and even while the dream still floated before my enchanted eyes, the éying man’s hoarse whisper called me elose to his bedside, and I heard from his trembling lips that he was await- éng his son—the son whom he had ney- er recognized or cared for—the son of a clandestine and unhappy marriage— thi? unknow rs) who was te sup- plant me, hi cknowledged heir. L must right his wrong, I must do him justice I must ruin all my life, blight ell my happiness, darken all my fu- ture, for the sake of a rude, uncultured stranger. ‘The old man raved, aye, he only raved! With the thought of Ag- nes in my heart, I could face the p: Sionate madman, who forced himselt into the dying man’s chamber; with that thought in my heart I could hear my uncle breathe his last blessing to the son he d never known, and then, ; with his last breath, bid me ‘do justice.’ Y could listen calmly to the wild up- ; braiding of the imposter who called Qimself Basil Clive. “He defied me over his father’s corpse; he demanded the justice that ‘was his father’s dying legacy to him. With his hand on the dead man’s breast. he swore a fearful oath of hate and revenge to me, to mine ,forever, if j that justice were denied. i “Justice—ha, ha!—justice! justice! The word has been echcing in my ears ever since. Justice! that would have robbed me of my fortune, of my bride. Justice! fo an unknown, beggarly out- cast, who could not even get a lawyer to take up his claim. Justice! justice! when"—the speaker's eyes flashed with wnnatural fire, and he rose, gasping, from his chair—‘when the proof, the only proof of my uncle’s marriage— when the certificate he gave me on his dying bed, the paper that, armed with | @ scorpion’s sting, has been hidden in my breast for five-and-twenty years. when old Basii Clive’s marriage certif- | fcate was here!” his hand on his breast, | And, striki 1 as if he would have crushed some monster clinging there, the master of Cl ye Towers, with a moan of pain, fell forward, senseless, on his own dearthstore. And Mrs. Wyllis, stilling the cry of terror that rose to her lips, stooped down and, slipping her slender hand {nto the bosom of Robert Clive, drew forth the thin oil-skin packét concealed there, and thrust. it into her own dress. Then, ringing, wih a deadly-pale | countenance, trembling limbs and gicaming eyes, she shrieked loudly for elp. : CHAPTER XXXIII. ‘The Blood-Red Star. “Herbert must come home,” solilo- quized the doctor ,as be rode home- ward through the gray winter twi- light, after a few moments’ encourag- ing talk with Fannie as to her father's health. “It would be cruel to tell that poor little girl the truth; but Robert Clive is killing himself by inches. 1 eaw it in his eyes, I smelled it in his ®%reath, [ heard it in his voice. Anda no friend dare approach him, for that she-cat mounts guard over him from morning till night. She is bent on mis- chief, and always has been, though she hhas hidden her Ws skilfully for over twenty years. I suspect she knows as much about Robert Clive’s affairs to- day as he does himsclf—aye, and as much about Basil Clive’s, too! She had her eye on my poor little Sybii. The child shrank from her with in- etinctive dread. Hello! who have we here?” exclaimed the doctor, as his rey- erie was brought to an abrupt close by a start of his pony, that nearly flung the rider over his head—“who have we here?" “Have ye forgotten so soon, Harry Bond?" said a sepulchral voice; and the tall, thin form of Rizpah loomed up amid the gathering shadows. Mave ye so soon forgotten the bond- woman of Sybil Lee?” “Good heavens!” exclaimed the doc- tor, “you here again, Rizpah—exposed ‘to wether like this? Come home with eme at once; you are well-nigh perish- ing with cold” “Neither the cold of winter nor the heats of summer—neither the frost nor the fire, the tempest nor the blast, can kill the purpose that lives in Rizpah’s heart, and will live there until she ees the end! The end is near—the tars warned me of its coming—and I fhave turned my back on the sunny Southern land where my boy left me, end am here once more. Have you fheard what they say of Robert Clive?” At the question, her eyes flamed up ¥kes coals of fire. “T have just left him,” answered the @octor, gravely. “He is changed now, Rizpeh, sadly changed—weak, and old end broken.” “Weak, and old, and broken!” she exclaimed, triumphantly. “It is well— \ Her Heart’s Secret By Jean WARNER. Leareamaaaaaal it is well! The curse of the dying is beginning to work. Weary and old, and broken; but ’tis not enough. He must be skamed, dishonored, crushed! The end is near—the end is near! The end is nea “Come home with me, Rizpah,” said the doctor, soothingly. “You are ill yourself. This weather is too frosty for such old blood as yours.” “Cold, cold!’ she repeated. know me—the old blood is boiling fever heat in my veins. Imust out amid the snows, beneath the stars, See, there is ready gleaming, blood- red, in the heavens, that same star that brought me its message of evil five-and-twenty years ago. The red : of ill-omen to the Clives. Hark, “You ith hark! “Doctor, doctor! . cried an excited voice behind them, and one of the ser- yants from the Towers ran up, breath- lessly. “Come—quick, doctor, quick— the master’s struck!” “Struck! How? When?” asked the doctor, excitedly. “I left him not half an hour ago!” “Aye, aye, sir! But the stroke came on him just afterwards. They told me to come quic and I might catch you. For God’s sake, hurry, sir, for he’s ly- ing like one dead in the study, and Miss Fannie is going on like one mad. Lord knows ‘twill be the dark night at Clive Towers unless you bring him to!” Ave, a dark night!’ cried the shrill voice of old Rizpah, as the doctor hur- ried away with the man—“a dark night, indeed! But no darker than another night five-and-twenty years ago, when the blood-red star was tell- ing of death ard dishonor to the Clives. , tremble, tremble, tremble, Robert for tremble now, you may. y has been long and sunny, Your day but the night has come at last—a dark, dark night blood-red star! It was, indeed, a dark night at Clive Towers. Mute and helpless its master lay on the cushioned lounge in his | study, while Dr. Bond and two of his confreres, ily summcned from the y ly and earnestly to the life-tide to its accus- | that is lit only by the 1 ag tomed flow. But the channels seemed clogged; the | breath came in heavy, stertorous gasps; the swollen veins, the sluggish ‘e—all seemed to make the dociors’ efforts vain. Shut in her own room, whither Dr. Bond’s friendly firmness had banished her, Fannie passed the dragging hours of that wretched night! Alone, alone | —se utterly alone! Oh, for Herbert's strong and loving arm to lean on in this hour of trial— for Fenton's. cheering whisper—for Sybil's terder sympathy! All had left her, aid the hot-house flower, that had been sheltered from every blast, must bow its beatiful head to the storm of winter, and breast the keen wind of adversity alone—all alone! The wing that had guarded her so | tenderly was broken, the strength that had shielded her so faithfully laid low, and, sobbing in her darkened chamber through the weary hours of that aw- ful night, Fannie felt that she was, indeed, an orphan. It was nearly day when Dr. Bond tapped at her door and summoned her to her father’s bedside. “He is conscious, we think, my dear,” said the old doctor, kindly; but there seems something on his mind taht he cannot speak, Perhaps you may understand what he wishes to irembling in evi limb, Fannie was led into ler father’s chamber, whither he had been conveyed an hour before. The white curtains of his bed were looped aside, and, supported in an al- most upright p ion, amid the pil- lows, his features rigid and unnatural, his lips livid and tremulous, his eyes blocdshot and glassy, wandering from side to side in a despairing unrest— was the stately master of Clive Tow- ers—the stern, haughty, indomitable Robert Clive. His right hand kept straying ever and anon to his breast, as if he would make an effort to reach something there that pained him, and, when the effort failed, he would gaze around agnin with such pleading agony that even the physicians, accustomed to painful scenes of every description. felt indescribably moved. “There is something tbat troubles him, my dear,’ said Dr. Bond, in a low voice, to Fannie. “Try and un- derstard, my child, something your father wishes to say.” “Papa, papa!” the poor girl burst forth, piteously—“oh, papa, can you not speak, and tell me what you wish me to do?” Oh, the dumb appeal of those quiver- ing lips, those wandering eyes—the de- spairing energy with which the trem- bling hand tore at the uncovered breast—the agony of remorse that forced at length the husky whisper: “Herbert, in God’s name do justice— justice!” Even as the words passed his livid lips Robert Clive fell back on his pil- lows, and, with a last despairing ges- ture, as if he would tear a veil from his heart, the master of Clive Towers lay a corpse. CHAPTER XXXIV. It was late one winter evening, that 2 sun-browned traveler stopped at a little inn that lay in one of those lovely valleys sheltered by the mighty fast- nesses of the Alps. So sheltered, indeed, that, even at this advanced season, this little oasis, deep-sunken in the heart of the hills and gemmed by a miniature lake, smiled with something of the fresh- ness and beauty of perennial spring. It was a secluded place, far removea from the ordinary line of tourists, and as the traveler reined in his horse at the little hostelry that looked, with its quaint style and appointments, like | by. some German toy, and gazed around him at the placid lake, the modest hamlet, the church and a few villas dotting the slopes beyond, and then afar to the white, shining circle of the everlasting hills, clad in their spotless mantles of eternal snow, he felt that he had entered into one of those quiet neoks where Nature bids her weary children come and rest. The invitation, in this case, fell on a responsive heart. Weary and way- worn, footsore and heartsick, Herbert Clive had just returned from aimless wanderings in the East. He had fol- lowed no route, being guided by no purpose. His only idea was to escape from curious eyes and busy tongues, to bear the bitterness of his sorrow alone —to forget, if possible, amid strange scenes and distant climes, the folly of his love, the madness of his pursuit and the agony of his loss. But the spell was upon him still. Spite of every effort to put this beanti- ful, mysterious from his mind, Sybil reigned still in his heart its sovereign mistress, its crowned queen. He had sworn to himself never again to seek her. He had resolved to pluck from his breast the mad hope that, like some sweet yet poisoned flower, was Dlight- ing all the energy of his life. He had determined, once for all, to turn his back upon the dead past and leave it, buried in oblivion forever—to face the future bravely and manfually, and live out his life as nobly as he could, dreary and loveless though it should be. And it was in pursuance of this res- olution that had come to him that he was going home, after months of pur- poseless wandering, that seemed, as he looked back upon them, like the phases of a feverish dream. He was going home—the home he had almost learned to think of as an unreal vision of the past—the home where all his du- ty and his life-work lay. But he knew nothing of the dark cloud that lowered on Clive Towers. It had been months since tidings from America had reached him, and he felt as if there were no need of haste. He could yield to the whim of the moment that prompted him to enter into this quiet valley and rest—rest, before he had turned his back upon the dream- land of hope forever—rest, before he climbed the cold, dreary heights of a future that seemed typified by the snow-clad peaks that lifted their bar- ren summits in his path. ‘The little inn was a very model of tidiness and comfort; the hostess was brisk and loquacious; and as Herbert trifled over the bountiful repast she set before him, he was soon made ac- quainted with all the points of inter- est in the neighborhoed of St. Goth- | ard, for the little hamlet took its name from the celebrated pass that was near “Monsieur was American? Ah, many —very many Americans had stopped there the past year! One, two—ah, as many as three! Perhaps monsieur was a friend of dis Col. Laponte, who had taken the Ville du Lac, which mon- sieur could see from his windows. Ah, such a beautiful place! "Iwas a pity to have it left vacant so long.” Herbert listened with vague interest. And then good Dame Marguerite, de- lighted to have so attentive a listener, went into a long dissertation on the beauty of the villa, the loveliness of mademoiselle, and the generosity ot the brave monsie 1, her father. Laponte? Laponte? The name was fairiliar to hin. Where had he seen it before? It seemed to belong to that dreamy, half-remembered past—the past he had put behind him forever. And partly from this dim memory lingering in his mind—party because it was the only spot of interest near— Herbert strolled out that evening, when the moonlight was silvering the brows of the distant mountains, and bent his stens toward the Ville du Lac. It was a lovely spot, the deep moun- tain Jake mirroring in its pellucid waves the cloud, the sky and shore; the tiny island, that seemed almost to float upon the dark-blue waters, bear- ing the beautiful little villa, that, with its points and turrets, and cupolas, glistening in the moonlight, looked like some quaint Germgn toy, and the great white peaks beyond, framing the whole, formed a picture fair to look upen, even ina dream, He sat down on the fir-clad shore, and was taking in the beautiful scene as one of those ! “To hang on memory’s walls,” when a little boat. shot out from the villa, and floated out on the bosom of the lake, impelled by a young girl—a girl whose slender form was draped in a white cashmere mantle, and veiled in a glory of golden bair. Herbert’s sight suddenly grew dim, and he put his hand to his head, as if to clear the inists from his brain. His pulse seemed to throb simultaneously; his breath came quick and short. Was he mad, dreaming. or bound, in- deed by some fearful spell?—a spell from which he could not escape? For the golden-haired chatelaine of Ville du Lac—the Mademoiselle La- ponte of Dame Marguerite—had the eyes and the hair, and the form and the voice, of his lost love, Sybil Wraye! She was singing softly to herself— singing as Sybil was ever wont to sing, the thoughts that were denied prosaic speech. Herbert held his breath and listened, as the song came borne over the moon- lit waters, to the musical accompani- ment of her oars: “Hast thou left me, love, forever? No, ah, no, love! no, no, no! Life indeed would be too dreary, Could I believe that thou wouldst go. By me still thy spirit lingers, Ne’er to part, love—ne’er to part. Rairbows link e’en earth to heaven; So may Hope link heart to heart.” Hope! hope! When had the word found echo before in Sybil’s song? Hope! What siren was it thus delud- ing him with her false, cruel strains? Had he not sworn to pluck hope from his breast? ‘ . And yet Herbert lingered, spell- hound, watching the fairy skiff with a strained and fascinated gaze. It crossed the placid bosom of the lake, and, urged by a few light strokes of the oars, then drifted on, past the very spot where he stood. Herbert was unseen, but at the sight of that exquisite profile, shaded by the snowy folds of the Capuchian hood, the stern resolve of months melted away like mists before the sun. “Sybil”—the word seemed almost forced from his quivering lips—“Sybil! again—again!” She turned, with a nervous stsrt, and let the oars drop from her trembling hands. “Herbert!” Even in the pale moonlight he could see the crimson life-tide flushing brow and cheek, as she spoke the name. “Is it Sybil, indeed? or only some mocking vision?’ he asked—‘“‘some cru- el spirit, luring me on to destruction and despair? In God’s name, if beings such as you have a God, speak to me! Tell me who and what you are! Free me from the spell that holds me, de- spite myself and all my efforts! Tell me why you haunt me—by what mys- terious power you control my fate!" “Is it Herbert Clive who speaks?” she asked, with a touch of scorn— “Herbert Clive? or some weak crea- ture whom any juggler could delude? Spell and charm! Alas, it is only wo- man who bends a willing victim to her power—it is only woman who ac- knowledges the one mighty spell that enthralls heart, and soul, and mind, and strength—the spell of Love! It is only woman who can suffer and die, smiling in her fetters, yet never ask to be set free!” il! do you speak to me in of reproach?’ was his bitter exclamation—“you, whom I have loved with such folly, such madness, that reason, judgment and wisdom have weighed as nothing against the power that drew me to your side? You have denied my suit, refused my pray- ers, perplexed me with doubts, tor- tured me by mysteries, well-nigh maa- dened me with masks and disguises. I loved you as purely and devotedly as man can love, and yet that love, based though it was, on honor, faith and truth, has been well-nigh my ruin. My life is still before me, sere and blight- ed, ‘tis true, but I cannot cast it utter- ly away. Sweet and lovely though the flower may be, when its perfume poisons and bewilders us, that flower must be plucked from our breasts. Sybil, I have loved you—I must love you to the bitter end—but I must fly from you. I dream, I hope, I suffer all the agonies of doubt and suspense at your side. My firmest resolutions fail me. Iam again a madman!” The little beat rocked like a lily leaf on the moonlit waves. The fai roccu- pant was trembling now—trembling with the weight of emotions pride could not control. “Alas, alas!” she faltered, “it has been a cruel, cruel fate that has brought our lives together. I hive flung a dark and poisoned shadow in your path. I have blighted where 1 would have blessed, embittered where I would have enly sweetened and cheered. It is right that you should forget me, and yet—yet—” She paused and buried her face in her hands. “You would not be forgotten?’ he interposed. “Speak jto me, darling, and tell me it is so?) Oh, my love—my only love—it is only from a deluding dream that I would escape; it is only from a glittering mirage that I would turn away. I cannot wreck my life in foliowing an illusive phantom. The echees of your voice. glimpses of your presence, snatches ef your songs, have lured me on from land to land, from clime to clime. Ikave been too long an idle wanderer, a worthless dream- er. Sybil, you yourself would scorn the man who could waste his manhood in the vain pursuit of a shadow, a vision, a beautiful but evanescent dream!” “I know.” she whispered—‘ know you are right. The web of my life has been woven so strangely,so darkly, that you may well look upon me with doubt and fear. And yet—vet I am no being of different mould from those around me. Sorrow and injustice, mortal’s hate and mortal vengeance, have warped my life and made me what I am. —a2 woman, with all a woman’s loves and hopes denied. Forgive me the unwilling wrong I have done you. Alas! I suffer enough without the thought that we have parted in anger or fear. Let us part in sorrow, Her- bert, as those part whom the death angel severs for time alone, not eterni- ty. I would have died, indeed, rathe: than have lived to cause you a mo ment’s anguish, a moment’s fear. Let ws part here, beneath the moonlit skies —in sorrow and in peace.” “And in love!’ he added, eagerly. “Say in love and in hope, Sybil, and the future, however cold, will gleam as brightly as those snow-capped heights above us. I will wait and trust through the mocnlit night for the eow.ing day. The clouds and darkness have been heavy and bewildering, dar- ling. Lighten them with one pale beam of hope?” “Hope!” she whispered, rising in the boat and holding out her hand to him. “Alas! the word is one I dare not ut- ter. But love—even the sorrowing, the hepeless, may speak of loye—love that can reach even unto heaven! Ah, yes, we may part in love!” He lifted the little hand to his lips. “Love, love! Henceforth that word shall be my talisman,” he murmured, “We part in love. Aye, darling and in love—I know, I feel it—we shall meet again!” (TO be Continued.) Lueck at Cards. Several men were discussing the sub- ject of big luck, when one remarked: “All this talk about thirteen being an unlucky number is sheer nonsense. What, for instance, is luckier than holding thirteen trumps at whist?” “Humph!" replied another gentle- man. “I held a thirteen-trump hand once, and didn’t make more than one trick with it.” “How could that be?” “Well ,you see, my partner was somewhat hot-tempered, and when I trumped his ace he jumped up andi kicked me out of the room.”—Waverly Magazine. The Meeting of the Ends. We found him in his wretched gar- ret. He had eaten his last candle and was writing furiously by the light of the stars. “You seem scarcely able to make both ends meet,” we said. “I am a poet, not a contortionist,” he replied, without the slightest trace of impatience. And we felt ourselves rebuked, and slunk away.—Detroit Journal. Not.the Regular Thing. “And do you call that a patriotic song?” said the publisher, handing back the manuscript. — “Certainly. Why not?’ asked the other, in surprise. “Why, you don't rhyme ‘soldier boy’ with ‘mother’s joy’ any where.”—Phila- delphia Press. Sivve Dews of the Dorthwest TOWNE EXPECTS NOMINATION. Says He Has More Support Than Any Other Candidate. Duluth, Minn., June 26.—Charles A. Towne takes exceptions to the infer- tnce drawn ina recent Associated Press dispatch from Austin, Tex., that he will withdraw from the vice-presi- dential race if not nominated at Kan- sas City. He says, however, that he fully expects to rece:ve the namination. The dispateh referred to quoted an ex- tract from a letter written by Mr. Towne to Maj. Walton of Austin, in which he said: “My friends know that no personal consideration would influence me to stand in the way of success of the the party for which we are contending.” Mr. Towne said last night that there was nothing in the letter upon which and intimation of his course as to the vice presidency could be based. “You may , however,” continued Mr. Towne, “that I expect to be nom- inated for vice president at the Kansas City convention, and I have more sup- port at present for the nomination than any other man, although in some secticns of the East there seems to be objection to a Western man for the place. Some of the people down there ot get rid of the old idea that the ed States does not extend beyond the Allegheny mountains. If, however, I am not nominated by the Democratic convention I am not prepared to say w action I shall take and will not decide until that time comes.” TERRORIZED BY A WILD MAN. Residents Near Grantsburg, Wis., Have an Unpleasant Visitor. Grantsburg, Wis., June 26.—An un- known wild man is terrorizing the peo- ple north of here. He appears to be about thirty-five years of age, has long black whiskers, is barefooted, has scarcely no clothing and carries a hatchet. He has appeared at several farm houses and asked for something to eat. He eats rayenously, and when asked where he came from, points to the east. He secrets himself in the woods during the day. His blood- curdling yells have been heard in the neighborhood during the past three nights. The sheriff and a posse have been out after him but were unable to eapture him. He runs like a deer through the woods and it is impossible to follow him with horses. WORK OF A MANIAC, Kills One Man and Fatally Injures Several Others, Cedar Rapids, Iowa, June 26. — Charles Mefford, a maniac, ai 5 o'clock yesterday morning, killed James Fitz- simmons, fatally injured Joseph Drake and seriously and possibly fatally in- jured Miss Kate Fitzsimmons and then ended his own life. Mefford was twenty-seven years old and had been insane for a number of years. Two rs ago he was in the Independence lum for a short time, but escaped and was never returned. He was not generally considered dangerous. HAD NO FIRE PROTECTION, Town of Huntley Wiped Off the Map by Flames. Huntley, Minn., June 26—The busi. ness portion of this village was wiped out by fire, causing a loss that will reach $25,000. The postoffice and general store owned by A. D. Mairers was burned to the ground. The town has no fire protection, and the flames spread rapidly to the general store of J. A. Hill, then communieated with the farm implement establishment owned by A. A. Williams. SAILOR BURNED TO DEATH. Fire in a Saloon Sends a Sleeper Into Eternity, Ashland, Wis., June 26. — Smith & Dehnke’s saloon caught fire Friday and Paul Harry was burned to death in a back room. Harry was a mate on the steamer Alcona and lived in Cleveland. He was in a drunken stu- por and an exploding lamp fell near him. Too Much Christian Science. Lisbon, N. D., June 26.—Hamlin S. Hianson, a single young man who came up from Iowa in April and has since been living with his brother, a farmer in Coburn township, this coun- ty, became suddenly ingane through too much “Christian jence.” He claimed to be the greatest divine heal- er in the world, and that there was no other that could approach him in abil- ity. He was committed to the insane asylum at Jamestown. Substantial Economy. Fargo, N. D., June 26.—The annual financial statement of Cass county for the year ending June 30, will show a reduction of $10,000 in the expenses for the year. Last year’s statement showed a reduction of $11,000 over the year previous. Most of the reduction comes from the expense account of the district court. . Sentence Suspended. Lead, S. D., June 26.—The father of William Mashen, one of the boys found guilty of stealing copper from the Homestake, and sentenced to the reform school, presented a petition in court, asking the sentence on his son to be suspended. The petition was granted, the suspension to continue during the boy’s good behavior. Defective Flue Causes Fire. Prairie du Chien, Wis., June 26, — A fire originating from a defective flue destroyed a blacksmith shop and wag- on manufacturing establishment of W. Tesar & Sons. The loss is quite heavy. Found Dead in His Store. Ashland, Wis., June 26.—Louis Kell- man, a prominent and wealthy merch- ant of this city, was found dead in his store, death being caused by asphyx- jation. Doctors say it is a case of sui- cide. Brakeman Killed. Prairie du Chien, Wis., June 26, — Owen Donahue of this city was acci- dentally killed while breaking on a west-bound freigh on the Chicago, Mil- waukee & St. Paul railway CROP CONDITIONS. Dry Weather Continues, With a Few Scattered Local Showers. Sauk Center, Minn., June 24.—The drouth, which is the most disastrous this country has experienced for many years, continues unbroken. The wheat and oat crops on sandy soil are almost wholly destroyed. Many fields are be- ing plowed and the struggle for hay is a hard one. No highland grass at all, and the river bottoms will have to supply the entire country. This short- age of feed will cripple the stock in- dustry. - Stewartville, Minn.—A light rain fell here yesterday. The ground is very dry and more rain is needed badly. With plenty of rain from now on we will get more t half a crop of small grain. Corn is y behind: The hay crop will be n a total failure. pastures are very short. Grafton, N. D. — It still continues very hot and dry. Yesterday the ther- mometer registered 95 in the shade, with a hot, rching south wind, which was ver disastrous to the growing crop. Ha s $10 per ton, and hard to find at that. Some of our old farmers say straw will be worth $6 per toa for feed. Unless favorable change in weather is soon made we shall be unable to secure feed for the stock here. Marshfield, Wis.—This section was ed by rain, the first that has fail- en for two weeks. “iverg*ing was in erying need of moisture, hence the value of this fine drenching rain can hardly be overestimated. Crops will progress henceforth at a rapid pace. SIX PERSONS KILLED. Serious Railroad Collision Near Green Bay, eWis. Green Bay, Wis., June 26.—A_nor‘h- bound passenger train on the Chicago & Northwestern road, loaded with ex- cursionists bound for the Saengerfest in this city, collided at 10:15 o'clock yesterday morning with a freight train at Denere, five miles south of here. Six persons were killed, one is miss- ing and thirty-four were injured. The accident happened just as the sen- ger train was pulling into the station. A double-header fr ight was backing into a side track te let the passenger by, but had not cleared the main track. Those injured were nearly all in t second coach. When the two trains came together the first coach, which was a combination smoker and bag- gage car, was driyea through the see- ond coach, where te loss of life oc- curred. The dead sivere taken out of the wreck and to en undertaking es- tablishment at Depere. The injured were first taken te the Depere high school, which v converted into a temporary hospita, and later were brought to St. Vineent’s hospital in this city. None of the train men were injured, the engine crews jumping in time to save themscives. Both engines were badly damaged and two coaches were broken into kindling wood. ALMOST A TRAGEDY. Electric Light Controversy at De- troit, Minn., Grows Bitter. Detroit, Minn., June 24—The elec- tric light agitation°ocame near euimi- nating in a tragedy yesterday after- noon. Mike McCarthg attempted to climb into the Gitriage of E. G. Holmes, presiden’'*of the Detriot Light and Land coi. sany, and after a warning by Mr. Moimes to keep out, was shot. The. ball made a slight scalp wound and McCarthy is report- ed out of danger. Holmes makes the staterrerit, which is corroborated by several witnesses, that MeCarthy hailed him to stop his team while 2 ing down the street, and upon Me- Carthy advancing ind attempting to climb into the carriage, intent upon making an assault, Holmes repeatedly warned him to kecp off, and as a last resort fired his reyolver, with the re- sult as stated aboye. McCarthy has had scme reputatica as a pugilist and is a very powerrul fellow. It is hoped that no furt ier trouble will en- sue. Stabbed by a Woman. Milwaukee, June ‘26.—Frank Bonn, a white man of Sioux City, who had been living with !\ina Brown, a col- ored woman, for the past six weeks, was stabbed to desth last night by the woman. She reskited the efforts of three police office.s to arrest her for fifteen minutes a’’er the murder by brandishing a kni‘ + and a package of red pepper, but w4s finally overpow- ered. She claims shat Bonn attacked her first. . Roberts Mu, Pay a Fine. Salt Lake, Utah; June 26. — In the case of B. H. Roberts, found guilty of unlawful cohabitytion, the judgment of the court was that he pay a fine in the ‘sum of $150, or in lieu thereof that he be imprisoned in the county jail for a period of 150 days. A thirty days’ stay was granted in order that the defendant might file a bill of ex- ception. Two Child. en Drowned. Winona, Minn.,, June 26. — Herbert Wigdale, aged twelve, and Floryan Losinski, aged six, were drowned here yesterday evening Both boys were bathing. Losinsk’ stepped into a deep hole and Wigdale in attempting a res- cue was also drowned. Both bodies were recovered. Fell Ono a Fork. Fort Dodge, Iowa, June 26. — Roy Petersmeir, a boy living near Fonda, was killed by fall ng on the tines of a fork. He was piaying with another child, sliding off a haystack against which a _ pitchfo'&k was leaning, the tines upward. . +t Died 01 Lockjaw. Aroka, Minn., June 24.—Walter Mec- Crea, the lad acqidentally shot by his brother with the:.gun found in Round lake and supposedly the one used in murdering the Wise family, died of lockjaw yesterday. Old Man Gored by a Cow. St. Paul, June; 24.—John Hagman, 1009 Beech street. was badly gored by a cow yesterday :morning. Dr. H. O. Earl thinks the>injuries may prove fatal on account of the advanced age of the man, £ : ot oad gone. arte eet mepenee