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When a certain train out of Chicago paused in Crown Point, Ind. last week, a tall, robust male of 47 who looked like a white-headed Indian chief descended to the station platform. With a moment-of-destiny air he announced to the reporters present: "I want to put my foot on Indiana soil."
Last week Indiana's soil, as distinct from its station platforms, was dotted with shocks of new-cut wheat. Young green corn was two to three feet high, and high-legged hogs stood up to their chocolate-colored rumps in lush, weedy meadows. Wild...
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