X • i7t%lr> W:1 ^ > i4r* __ : f* -V $ t, * * * jv* y /* 1 4,? • 4 '/ < '* i • ' • . * "*t'-:<%*%'-t'••{P'i. «v: ,-i$;f5 r •« f TME^« HONS oF LORD A TALC OF THE OLD WEST c Shabby lcon ViL50NTnE»K5pEM ^ cojoy/9/cMr tstca artorv0apPuai.*aw(G oaw-mst' . *XII#-^ontlnued» It broke the spell of awe that had lain upon him, so that he felt for the moment only a pious horror of her speech. He called Christina to take charge of her, and Martha, the second wife, to put away her little bundle of clothing. He himself went to be alone where he could think what must be done for her. From an entry in the little Bible, written in letters that seemed to shout to him the accusation of his crime, he had fount) that she must now be five years old. It was plainly time that he should begin to supply her very apparent*need of re ligious instruction. When she had become a little used to her surroundings later in the day, he sought to beguile her to this end, beginning diplomatically with other matters. "Come, tell me your name, dear." She allowed her attention to be di verted from her largest doll. "My name is Prudence---" She hesi tated. "Prudence--what?" . ' "I--I lost my mind of it" She looked at him hopefully to be prompted. "Prudence Rae." She repeated the name, doubtingly, "Prudence Rae?" "Yes -- remember now -- Prudence Rae. You are my little girl--Prudence Rae." "But you're not my really papa-- he's went far off--oh, ten ninety miles far!" "No, Prudence--God is your Father In heaven, and I am your father on earth--" "But? not my papa!" "Listen, Prudence---do you know what you are?" The puzzled look she had worn fled instantly from her face. "I'm a generation of vipers." ' She made the announcement with a palpable ring of elation in her tones, looking at him proudly, and as if wait ing to hear expressions of astonish ment and delight. "Child, child, who has told you such things? You are not that!" She retorted, indignantly now, the lines drawing about her eyes in signal of near-by tears: "I am a generation of vipers--the Bishop said I was--he told that other mamma, and I am it!" "Well, well, don't cry--all right-- you shall be it--but I can tell you something much nicer." He assumed a knowing air, as one who withheld knowledge of overwhelmim." 'fascina tions. "Tell me--what?" And so, little by little, hardly know ing where to begin, but feeling that any light whatsoever must profit a soul so benighted, he began to teach her. In the days that followed he wooed her patiently, seeking constantly to find some favor with her, and grateful beyond words when he succeeded ever so little. At first, he could win but Blight notice of any sort from her, and that only at rare and uncertain intervals. But gradually his unobtru sive efforts told, and, little by little, she began to take him into her confi dence. The first day she invited him to play with her in one of her games was a day of rejoicing for him. And that night, before her bedtime, when he sat in front of the fire, she came with a most matter-of-fact un consciousness to climb into his lap. He held her4 a long time, trying to breathe gently and not daring to move lest he make her uncomfortable. Her head pillowed on his arm, she was soon asleep, and he refused to give her up when Martha came to put her to bed. Though their Intimacy grew during the winter, so that she called him her father and came confidingly to him at all times, in tears or in laughter, yet he never ceased to feel in aloofness from her, an awkwardnes in her pres ence, a fear that the mother who looked from her eyes might at any moment call to him. CHAPTER XXIII. Hew the Red Came Back to the* Blood to Be a Snare. The red was coming back to the blood of Martha, the fair flesh to her meager frame, the spring of youth to her step and living fire to her voice and the glance of her eyes. Her hus band was pleased. He had made a new creature of the poor, worn wreck found by the wayside, weak, emaci ated, reeling under her burden. He rejoiced to know he had done a true service. He was glad, moreover, to know that she made an admirable mother to the little woman-child. Prudence, indeed, had brought them closer to each other, slowly, subtly, in little ways to disarm the most timid caution. And this mothering and fathering of little Prudence was a work by no means colorless or uneventful. The child had displayed a grievous capac ity for remaining unimpressed by even the jbest-weighed opinions of her pro^ tector. She was also appallingly fluent In and partial to the idioms and meta phors of revealed religion,--a circum stance that would not infrequently cause the sensitive to shudder. Yet her dajss were by no means all of reproof nfir was her reproof ever harsher than the more or less pointed selections from the moral verses could inflict. Under the watchful care of Martha she flourished and was happy, her mother in little, a laughing whirl wind of tender flesh, tireless feet, dancing eyes, hair of sunlight that was darkening as she grew older, and a mind that seeded to him she called father a miracle of unfoldment. It | dind ftBt so duickly. rp*ypttT(i 11» lU as he could have wished to the learn ing he tried patiently to impart; he wondered, indeed, if she were not un duly frivolous even for a child of six; for she would refuse to study unless she could have the doll she called Bishop Wright with her and pretend that she taught the lesson to him, find ing him always Btupid and loth to learn. He hoped for better things from her mind as she aged, watching anxiously for the buddings of reason and religion, praying daily that she should be increased in wisdom as in stature. He had become so used to the look of her mother in her face that it now and then gave him an instant of unspeakable joy. But the sound of his own voice calling her "Prudence" would shock him from this as with an icy blast of truth. As he observed her day by day in her joyous growth, it was inevitable that he came more and more '%o ob serve the woman who was caring for her, and it was thus on one night in late summer that he awoke to an awful truth,--a truth that brought back the words of the woman's former husband with a new meaning. He had heard Prudence cay to her, on to the bare bench of the mountain --his old refuge in temptation--where he could be safe from submitting to what his soul had forbidden. He had meant to take up a cross, but before his very eyes it had changed" to be a snare set for him by the Devil. He stayed late on the ground In the darkness, winning the battle for him self over and over, decisive^. he thought, at the last. But wh»« he went home she was there in the door way to meet him, still silent, but with eyes that told more than he dared to hear. He thought she had in some way divined his struggle, and was waiting to strengthen the odds against him, with her face in the light of a candle she held above her head. He went by her without epeaking, afraid of his weakness, and rushed to his little cell-like roorn to fight the battle over. As a last source of strength he took from its hiding place the little Bible. And as it fell, open naturally at the blood-washed ' page a new thing came, a new torture. No sooner bad his eyes fallen on the stain that it seemed to him to cry out of itself, so that he started back from it. He shut the book and the cries were stilled; he opened it and again he heard them--far, loud cries and low groans close to his ear; then long piercing scream stifled suddenly to low, horrible gurglings. And before him came the inscrutable face with the deep gray eyes and the shining lips, lifting, with love in the eyes, above a gashed throat. He closed the book and fell weakly to his knees to pray brokenly, and al most despairingly: "Help me to keep down this self within me; let it ask for nothing; fan the fires tin til they consume it! Bow me, bend me, break me, burn me out--burn me out!" In the morning, when he said, "Mar tha, the harvest is over now, and I want you to go north with me," she prepared to obey without question. He talked freely to her on the way, She Was Waiting. Silent, lot With Dared to "You are a pretty mamma," and sud denly there came rushing upon him the sum of all the impressions his eyes had taken of her since that day when the Bishop had spoken. He trembled and became weak under the assault, feeling that in some insidious way his strength had been under mined. He went out into the early evening to be alone, but she, present ly, having put the child to bed, came and stood near, silently in the door way^ He looked and saw She was indeed made new, restored to the luster and fullness of her young womanhood. He remembered then that she had long been silent when he came near her, plainly conscious of his presence but with an apparent constraint, with something almost tentative in her manner. With her return to health and comeliness there had come back to her a thousand little graces of dress and manner and speech. She drew him, with his starved love of beauty ihd his need of companionship; drew him with a mighty power, and he knew it at last. He remembered how he had felt and faintly thrilled under a certain soft suppression in her .tones when she had spoken to him of late; this had drawn him, and the new light in her eyes and her whole freshened womanhood, even before he knew it. Now that he did know it he felt him self shakei&and all but lost; clutching weakly at some support that threat ened every moment to give way. And she was his wife, his who had starved year after year for the light touch of a woman's hand and the tones of her voice that should be for him alone. He knew now that he had ached and sickened in his yearning for this, and she stood there for him in the soft night. He knew she was waiting, and he knew he desired above all things else to go td her; that the comfort of her, his to take, would give him new life, new desires, new powers; that with her he would revive as she had done. He waited long, Indulging freely in hesitation, bathing his wearied soul in her near ness--yielding in fancj^ Then he walked off Into Hie night, down through the village, past the light of open doors, and through the yoipa? that sounded from tbem, out Eyes That Told More Than He Hear. though it is probable that he left in her mind attle more than dark con fusion, beyond the one clear fact of his wish. As to this, she knew she must have no desire but to comply. Reaching Salt Lake City, they went at once to Brigham's office. When they came out they came possessed of a document in duplicate, reciting that they both did "covenant, promise, and agree to dissolve all the relations which have hitherto existed between us as husband and wife, and to keep ourselves separate and apart from each other from this time forth." This was the simple divorce which Brlgham was good enough to grant to such of the Saints as found them selves unhappily married, and wished it. As Joel Rae handed the Prophet the fee of ten dollars, which it was his custom to charge for the service, Brig- ham made some timely remarks. He said he feared that Martha had been perverse and rebellious; that her first husband had found her so; and that it was doubtless for the good of all that her second had taken the resolu tion to divorce her. He was afraid that Brother Joel was an inferior judge of women; but he had surely shown himself to be generous in the provision he was making for the sup port of this contumacious wife. They parted outside the door of the little office, and he kiBsed her for the first time since they had been married --on the forehead. Christina would now be left alqne with the cares of the house, and he knew he ought to have some one to help her. The fever of sacrifice was also upon him. And so he found an other derelict, to whom he was sealed forever. At a time of more calmness he might have balked at this one. She was a cross, to be sure, and it was now his part in life to bear crosses. But there were plenty of these, and even one vowed to a life of sacrifice, he suspected, need not grossly abuse the powers of discrimination with which Heaven had seen fit to endow him. But he had lately been on the verge of a seething maelstrom, balanc ing there with unholy desire and wickedly looking far down, and the need to atone for this Bin excited him to indiscretions. It was not that this star in his crown was in her late thirties and less than lovely. He had learned, indeed, that in the game which, for the chas tening of his soul, he now played with the Devil, it were best to choose stars whose charms could excite to little but conduct of a saintlike seemliness. The fat, dumpy figure of this woman, therefore, and her round, flat, moon like face, her mouse-colored wisps of hair cut squarely off at the back of her neck, were points of a merit that was in its wltole effect nothing less than distingtftsfced. But she talk«*r. Her tones played with the constatsy of an ever-living fountain. Artlessly she lost herself in the sound of their mudc, until she also lost her sense of proportion, of light and shade, of simple, Christian charity. Her name was Lorena Sears, and she had com"» in with one of the late trains of converts, without friends, relatives, or mean*, with nothing but her natural gifts itftd an abiding faith in the saving powers of the new dis pensation. And though she was so alive in her faith, rarely informed in the Scriptures, bubbling with enthu siasm for the new covenant, the new Zion, and the second coiiii ng of the Messiah, there had seemeo to be no place for her. She had not b£«n asked in marriage, nor had she feund it easy to secure work to support her self. "She's strong," said Brigham, t i his inquiring Elder, "and a good worker, but even Brother Heber Kimball wouldn't marry her; and between you and me. Brother Joel, I never knew Heber to shy before at anything that would work. You can see that, your self, by looking over his household." But, after the needful preliminaries, and a very little coy hesitation on the part of the lady, Lorena Sears, ppinr ster, native of Elyria, Ohio, was duly sealed to, for time and eternity, and became a star forever in the crown of Joel Rae, Elder after the Order of Melchisedek in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and Presi dent of the Amalon Stake of Zion. In the bustle of the start south there were, of necessity, moments in which the crown's new star could not talk; but these blessed respites were at an end when at last they came to the open road. At first, as her speech flowed on, he looked sidelong at her, in a trouble of fear and wonder; then, at length, ab sently, trying to put his mind else where and to leave her voice as the muted murmur of a distant torrent. He succeeded fairly well in this, for Lorena combined admirably in herself the parts of speaker and listener, and was not, he thankfully noted, watch ful of his attention. He was called back by the stopping of her voice, but she had to repeat her question before he understood it. The Devil tempted him' in that moment. He was on the point of answering, "Because she talked too much," but Instead he climbed out of the wagon to walk. He walked moBt of the 300 miles in the next ten days. But he had taken up a new cross and he had his reward. The first night after they reached home he took thr little Bible from its hiding place and opened it with trembling hands. The stain was there, red in the can dle-light. But the cries no longer rang in his ears as on that other night when he had been sinful before the page. And he was glad, knowing that the self within him had again been put down. CHAPTER XXIV. Tho Wild Ram of the Mountain* Offers to Become a Savior On Mount Zion. In the valley of which Amalon was the center, they made ready for the end of the world. It is true that in the north, as the appointed year drew nigh, an opinion had begun to prevail that the Son of Man might defer his coming; and presently it became know that Brigham himself was doubt ful about the year 1870, and was in spiring others to doubt. But in Amn ion they were untainted by this heresy, choosing to rely upon what Brigham had said in moments mora inspired. He bad taught that Joseph was to be the first person resurrected; that after his frame had been knit together and clothed with immortal flesh he would resurrect those w;ho had died in the faith, according to their rank In the priesthood; then aJl his wives and children. Resurrected Elders, having had the keys of the resurrec tion conferred upon them by Joseph, their own households; and when the last of the faithful had come forth, another great work would be per formed; the Gentiles would then bo resurrected to act as servants and slaves to the Saints. In his lighter -moments Brigham had been wont to name a couple of Presidents of the United States who would then act as his vaiets. (TO BE CONTINUED.) tOOOOOttOQOtwffWffy**'1 wwwwwaaflaaannnnnnoooooOQOOQQQQOQQQ Pointing the Way to Sinners The medley fell into an unusual swinging rhythm; the humming rose loud and louder, gathering and adding to itself accidental suggestions; one impromptu phrase of music, which fitted the passing words, was caught up instantly; the congregation was swept away by a hysterical, rhythmi cal, emotional tide; utterly strange and new, never before heard, an air sprang into being--refrain first, then both refrain and line, one swift, bold, strong voice leading on. Their wild emotions strangely j^irred, the pri mitive congregation swept, full tide. into such an air as one carries home with him, rolling for days afterward, in his ears. "My dyin' brederin, way yo*. gwlne stan'?" shouted the preacher. "Way yo' gwlne stan' w'en dey tek de cub- bah off'n hell, an' no wawteh noway T Yu" all gwlne come er-runnin' and er» cry In' "Way is muh crown of glory? Wuh Is muh long w'ite robe? Wub Is muh place? But fuh dem wu{ ain't bin convuhted dey ain't gwlne ter be no place! Oh, brederin, way will yo stan' een day day?"---Joba Bennett in the Atlantic. Wm.A.Badf.obi> EDITOR Mr. William A. Radford will answer paper. On account of his wide expe rience as Editor, Author and Manufac turer, he Is, without doubt, the highest authority on all these subjects. Address all Inquiries to William A. ftadford, No. 194 Fifth Ave., Chicago, III., and only enclose two-cent stamp for reply. A squarely built house having four rooms downstairs and four bedrooms upstairs is ^hown in this plan. Gen erally speaking, there is economy in building a square house or a house that is nearly square on the ground. It is a sort of a square deal for the owner, because the same amount of wall encloses more square feet of floor surface and more cubic feet of solid comfort than any other style of house building This house is 36 feet wide and 8® feet long, which is somewhat after the plan .of the Dutchman's stone wall, which he made four feet high and five feet wide so when the wind blew it over he would gain a foot. Nothing short of a cyclone ever works up en ergy enough to blow a house like this over, in fact the strongest gales hard ly produce a tremor; this is another advantage over a long, narrow house. It is not common for even narrow houses to blow down, but It is not pleasant to lie In bed of a windy night and feel the house tremble. A good many of us have had just such experi ences. Early western pioneers who were obliged to live in sod houses may have had occasional interviews with intrusive rain water in the middle of the night, but they never had the-wind shake the bed clothes off on the floor while they were sleeping. In a square house every partition helps to brace It from at least two directions. Every v way to heat a house of this size com fortably and economically in regard to labor, and that is with a hot-air fur nace. When you have a furnace you must carry the ashes out at least three times a week. Some folks are shift less enough to pile them up on the cellar floor and let them stay there until spring, but this is a reprehensive habit which should be energetically discouraged. It is on the same princi pal of sweeping the dirt into a pile be- 5«c«nd ri»#f Hal* hind the door. Self-respecting people doift do that way, but in order to en courage deanilness and decency this easy back cellar stair has been ar ranged. V There is a good front porch to this house and there is a good back porch. I often think women take more com fort with a back porch in summer than any other part of-T^ie house. They can nail that passes through a strip of lath into the studding helps to make the house solid. There is a combination front and back stair in this house that meets with approval where a person don't want to spare room enough for two separate stairways. Some folks are everlastingly dead set against combi nations of all kinds, hut they are all right in the proper place, and the cen ter of this house seems to be the right place for this kind of a stairway. You take your choice when you go upstairs from the front hall or from the back vestibule, and your choice will prob ably depend on whether you have com pany In the front parlor and , are garbed suitably according to your no tions of propriety; but the back stair First Fl.or Plan is handy anyway. A woman finds lots of use for such a convenience when she is doing the housework or on wash days. The grown-up boys also appre ciate it when they come in quietly at unreasonable hours and don't care to wake up the old man. They appreci ate father's opinion, all "right enough, but they would rather not have it forcefully expressed between twelve and two o'clock in the morning. There is an exceptionally good fea ture about this house that will bear mentioning in season and out of sea son, and that is the cellar. The in-sea- son for a cellar lasts about 12 months during the year. I have never been able to discover when the out-of-sea- son comes, unless it is when the boys have to clean the cellar in the spring time. A cellar would not be a desira ble place to live in, but a first-class storeroom under the house that is properly kept, clean, well-aired and in good order is a source of satisfaction to the older members of the family, and the youngsters will grow to ap preciate it in time. There is another combination stair way in this house, and that is the one that leads to the cellar. The entrance- way from the kitchen and from out doors meet on a common landing about the level of the ground. It is a good convenience in the summer, and in the fall when using the cellar for storage for garden truck, and it is just as handy In the winter time when clean ing out the furnace and you are carry ing the ashes out of doors. The chimneys ln«this house are so art-anged that it may he heated fairly stoves, but thftftUttOl? one slip out there between working peri ods and enjoy a little fresh air without being obliged to change their work ing clothes. The value of a back porch is very much increased by hav ing it screened In with vines. A good deal depends on which way the sun Bhines in, but one vine or more may be used to advantage with almost any exposure. s In some localities wire mosquito net ting Is necessary to make the back porch habitable after sundown. The wire netting 1b a great help in keeping flies out of the kitchen all summer long. It don't pay to screen a porch in this way unless the porch is rightly planned. With this arrangement it is not necessary to go down to the ground through the porch. The cel- larway comes in handy as an exit from the back part of the house whep the porch is enclosed with wire net ting. Of course, a person would b&ve a screen door to go out from the porch onto the ground when they wanted to, but if this door is kept con stantly swinging the flies will find their way in. There is a great deal in arrangement, and this Is one of the places- to use a little skill in this direc tion. The cost of a house like this depends so much on local prices of lumber and skilled labor that it is difficult to give an off-hand estimate. It is a good- sized house and one that gets away with quite a bit of material. Probably under favorable circumstances it should be built for about $2,500. NEWS OF ILLINOIS, f l . HAPPENINGS OF INTEREST FROM - f; ALL OVER THE STATE. mvi PAID" DEBT IS NEARLY Macoupin County Will Soon Be Fret ~f From lncumbus Incurred by . s / Erection of Its Costly Court- , , v ,fc? „ «• ty Court House. \"t- £ PINE TREE BIROS' 8HELTER. Where Feathered Wanderers 8leap In Winter Partly Explained. In zero weather, when the night is pitch dark and there is a piercing wind driving a biting show, perhaps you have wondered, as I have, to think how the little wild birds could man age to sleep and not freeze nor be covered up with the snow. One stormy, winter night while walking through Central park, New York city, I partly answered the ques tion. A branch of a large,pine tree swung close to and a little above a street lamp. The branch and its twigs were quite free from snow, the dense leaves or "needles" forming a roof above them and catching the snow which had quickly filled up the spaces between the slender leaves. Here and there under the most coasy- looking of the leaf clusters was a lit tle group of English sparrows, looking as comfortable as could be. They were somewhat disturbed by my pausing to watch them and a few left to find a perch on some higher branch. Probably there were scores of these sparrows in this tree, for I was able to examine only the branch near the light. Who knows but that every pine in the park and many a one in the woods as well Is a veritable tenement for the birds?--St. * ft , ' Meeting a Deficit. ^ "I hear Scorcher has put a heavy mortgage on his city residence. la he in such trouble as that? "Yes; he told me he had to have an immediate cash supply for his auto mobile fines."--Baltimore American. " * * • >1' Bloomington.--After struggling #0® • r nearly 40 years under the load of a gi-' ,4: gantic debt Macoupin county is com- *.-*>/V mencing to see the end of its journey* *, i• By 1912 the last dollar will have been ' <4 paid of a bond issue, with interest ex-' . ceeding 12,000,000, all representing .'.vs the cost of a court house, by far the ^ 3 most expensive of any rural county court bouse in the world. The first agitation for a court house commenced in 1867. Fifty thousand dollars was-, . appropriated, but that amount was \-\1 swallowed up in some mysterious „ '(/ manner before the foundations were fairly under way. There was greatt "> 1 indignation over what was regarded ,1 as a wholesale graft, but when th<| court permitted a bond Issue of $600,* ^ 000 more the climax of public dig* pleasure came. The controversy final# ly reached the legislature, where * . special act was passed permitting thq» . county commissioners to issue an ; V additional sum to complete the great / " structure. . • : 4 .. BALDWIN IN COURT Accused Slayer of Four Will B« Tried rI>:^ During April Term. . Bloomington. -- Thomas Baldwin* , the man who shot and killed Charley S, Kennedy and. his wife, Mrs. Simeoif Eiseman and Cora Eiseman, waj|^>if| brought into court while a formal mo tion for a continuance of his case wag made. The motion had been ' agree|ft"'>'• upon some time ago and the proceeds- ings were simply formal ones. Thil. case was continued until the Apr® term, which begins April 23. Exceptions were also taken by thfitf ? attorneys for Baldwin on the rullnjf* which denied the petition for a chang# of venue for the trial of his easel . Baldwin came in and out of the coui?t . house without creating any commertt and with no more apparent curiosity* from the people than is shown anf. criminal who comes into court. r.> 74 Held for Strange Murder. Freeport.--Fred Wenger, of ~ low, while asleep in a bed in a hot# here several nights since, was kickeift on the head and beaten by William Stelnke, aged 62 years, who came from Fall Creek, Wis., seeking ei# ployment. The next day Steinke left and was located in Chicago and brought back here. A coroner's jury held him responsible for the death at Wenger and he will not be released! until the grand jury acts in Juml ;if Mayoralty Fight Is On.' Galesbarg.--At a meeting of repre- ' «•- j sentative members of the people* , ' party it was practically decided t0> contest the election of George Shunts, way, liberal candidate for mayor, wh|i: • was elected by six majority. In fivj^f minutes $1,000 Was raised with whica * to push proceedings. It is believe® the first demands will be for a rar count. It is alleged that some judge# _ of election were guilty of irregularis Sue for Quake Insurance, Freeport.--Three suits to recover "*;% policies amounting to several thoift- . ' sand dollars for losses in the Sai^ 0 Francisco earthquake were beguft, V here against the German Insuranc# ' " company, one in the federal court bjr 4 j Nicholas Smith, of San Francisco, and '.jfe two others in the circuit court by 4<* Jacob H. Heicher and Carrie Parmer, 2 also of the California city. ^ „ ^ J Requisition for Alleged Forger. .' u Springfield.--A requisition was sued from the governor's office on thft \ , governor of Florida for the return to " j Louisville, Knox county, 111., of W. Doyle, alias Clarence Sheftall, want at the latter place on a charge of forv" gery. The forgery is alleged to have- taken place on April 2, 1906, an# ' Boyle was recently arrested at Jack sonville, Fla. Chicago Train Is Wreekod. '7:^ $ Duquoin.--A disastrous rear-end cof ' lision occurred in the yards of the II- *• j linois Central. Owing to a misundei* ; > ^ standing of signals the Chicago pai» .>• senger No. 8 crashed into a coal trait* {i: which was switching on the maift track. Fireman Walter Kempe of the " r passenger was instantly killed. Se#AW eral passengers were badly shaken qj*. * Busse Takes HI* Seat. Chicago.--Fred A. Busse is BOV * ^ mayor of Chicago. Edward F. Dunn* »V;-5 is legally a private citizen. The cero*- . mony which brought about this situa^ tion occurred unexpectedly April C, when Mayor Busse presented his ce£ \ tificate of election to City Clerk An- . t'\ J son. filed his bond, and took the oat*; ^ ̂ of office. • s R. H. Tlppett la Appolnt«| * Springfield.--R. H. Tippett has been appointed a member of the legislative committee of the Illinois District at the Mine workers, in the. place of Adolph Germer, who has resigned from that committee to take up hi* duties in the office of the subdistrksl to which he was recently elected. x; Divorcees Remarried. Havana.---After being divorced eight years James F. Boone, aged 6(1,, ' and Mrs. Juliette Boone, aged 4J» » ^ both of Decatur, were remarried Chicago Men <&t Oil Landk Mount Vernon.--Chicago and east ern capitalists have closed negotiah tions with Franklin county land own ers for the transfer of 21,000 acres at coal and oil leases. More than a mil* lion dollars is involved. The coat fields in this locality will be workei on a very extensive plan. Judge Wilkin's Funeral. ^ Danville---The funeral of Ja#*' ̂ Wilkin was held Saturday morning at ten o'clock. The body was U^ken t* ifontoU, tot , S *!:&> *. 1'