Newspaper Page Text
THE ROCK ISLAND ARGUS, SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 13, 1900.
By Margaret Johnson
" JVVee Kitty was eating her cake one day.
And the sugary crumbs were falling,
.When a shy little mouse crept out of a crack,
With-his tail so long and his eyes so black.
For he heard those crumbs a-calling!
Then Kitty looked down and the mouse
s , looked up,
And oh, but they stood a-staring!
For this is the way, as big as a house.
That Kittykins looked to the shy little mouse,
; With her terrible eyes a-slaring !
And if we could see as we 're seen, my
It would save U3 a world of pity !
For this is the way, with his eyes so black
And his tail so long, alas and alack!
That the little mouse looked to Kitty I
P 3 t V
SS cV S S
EVERY boy and girl Teader of St. Nicholas has
read in Grimm's fairy book the old, talc of "The
Sleeping Beauty"; but I doubt if -one of them
knows that nowadays- there are sleeping beauties,
too, and that they often wait years before they
rake up, and that sometimes they are adeep all their
Frances Copeland was a fortunate girl. She had love,
tare, wealth, beauty; yet she went about every day just
is much asleep as that girl of long ago. She did not
know she was asleep; she would have been wry angry
If any one had told her that she had never waked op
really in all her thirteen years !"
Her parents overwhelmed the child with every -luxury
Rnd-care. They could not bear-to punish or correct her;
they gave her everything she wished for as far as they
were able. All their thoughts centered on her. And then
came a pause in this worship-: Mrs. Copeland wa very
IL and the doctor ordered her at once to Germany.
"How lovely!" said Frances toiler -father. "I've al
ways -yanted to go abroad. Inez Fairchild Is always
crfel'-i over being three months in Paris, but when I've
beetUi ar in Germany she can't say a word ! "
MSi vieland looked very uneasy and troubled. "Mjr
'dear, we" must ahem die doctor says that-we must
leave you behind. He says that your mother musrhave
"But I shan't be left behind," declared Frances.
Where could I stay ? "
"Your mother has a dear old friend who has con
sented to take you into her family " her father paused.
But we pass over all the objections, remonstrances, and
pleading that followed on the part of Frances.
Inthe course of a few days the little girl, tinder the
care of a friend, was set down at the station of Fairfax,
a little town in Ohio.
"Dear me!" thought Frances, looking about; "I
.'didn't know it was this bad. Such a small town when
I've been used to a city ! I don't believe there ever was
a cirl so cruellv treated! And no one to meet me!"
but here her thoughts were interrupted by a girl near her
- mirti nerf- wMrincr a ffnv Roman silk tnhoirffan tono.
She came straight toward Frances: "We are a little'
late," she said, putting out her hand and clasping the
girl's reluctant one warmly; "but Jack lost his rubbers,
and glove and cap, and we did have such a time ! I am
F.lsii McKenzie. and I know vou're Frances Coocland,"
f 6he went on ; " and Jack is somewhere. Here he comes.
He- will see to your trunk. Jack, why don't you
- Frances saw a large, overgrown boy with a srmhng,
"Where's vour check?" he asked. "And do you want
... to wain or naer
"T might as well walk in such a small place as this,"
Frances replied, ungraciously. And as they turned down
the f.rst large street she thought: "I don't know what
mamma was thinking of to send me here. She said that
she wouldn't trust me to any one on earth but Adelaide
'TV.frTOriTirf hut- cti Imcn'f cn Tirr for vMr. and I
know it's going to be too dreary for words."
After' walking four or five blocks they entered the
,.gate cf t':e little McKenzie home. The sight of the
LAYING RAILS ON THE R. I. S.
lterial Ileing Hauled Over the Line
. us Fur uh Pope Creek.- '
- Despite rain rapid progress Is, being
naintained iu the construction of the
Sock Island Southern. The rail are
THE SLEEPING BEAU
all down as far as Pope creek and ma
terial Is being hauled over the line
that far. Tha coming- week will see
steel put In place In Warren county.
Several bridges at the southern end
of the road are under construction.
Tha bridge ovex North Henderson
Threa rery different pictures
from the mow set
of data. .
small and not very attractive cottage back in the yard
was a surprise to Frances. " I never dreamed they were
so poor," she thought; "why, mamma's maid lives in as
nice a place as this. Thhak of a year here! I shall
write to papa at ence." The front door opened, and a
tall and very handsome woman came out on the porch
to meet her. Her warm greeting and motherly face
thawe-d the i;e forming about Frances' whole being, and
she managed to smile.
She drew her within, where in the living-room a bright
opea fire burned. A tall girl not unlike-the mother came
forward: "This Is Faith, and, a head peeping out from
his sister's gown, she added," thi3 is Dick. '
" Elsie, take Frances to her room, and Jack can carry
the suit case. A9 I wrote your mother, my dear, I can
not take any one as a formal guest. You must be one of
uftr and take us as we are. I shall love you dearly for
your mother's sake."
The cordial words of the mother followed Frances
up the stairs; but she forgot them in the dismay of find
ing her room so small and simply furnished. " I wish
they could see mine," she thought, as Elsie aked to
help her. At home she would have thrown herself down
in a frenzy of despair and anger, but strangers were
" Please leave-me alone," she cried ; " I must be alone."
And Elsie with & troubled face slipped out of the door
and closed it
The supper was to Frances a long, drawn-out torment
She felt homesick, abused, and full of a dull resentment.
She wondered where the father was, and then she heard
Faith ray to her mother in a low voice : " Father says he
would like his supper sent in to-night," and she saw a
tray carried to' another room. - Could it be that he was
The table, with its thriving fern for a center-piece, its
fresh linen and tasteful china, its few pieces of handsome,
silver, its appetizing food, the laughter and fun from the
children, were attractive and homelike, but Frances,
comparing it all with the luxuries of her own home,
and with her eyes dulled by the sleep of which she was
unconscious, saw only the dark side of life.
The next day, being Saturday,-was a busy one for the
McKenzies. To Frances the day proved a series of
shocks. They kept no mpid at all; their father was al
most blind; they were very poort
The girl felt like a cat in a strange garret She heard
laughter in the kitchen and ventured out there. Faith,
enveloped in a big gingham apron, was rolling out bread
and rolls ; Elsie, her sleeves rolled np, was washing
dishes; and Jack was wiping them.
"Come in, called Faitn, as she saw Frances hesitat
ing in the doorway. " We have to be our own maids.
I'm afraid it's lonely for you." Frances came over to
the table where Elsie and Jack were. "Do you like to
do it ? " she asked curiously.
" It's Paradise to mo," said Jack, with a queer grimace,
while Elsie shrugged her shoulders : " I can't say I love
it," she said, "but we're so glad to do our share to
help along. It's such fun to think we're big enough to
send mother in to daddy to read to him, and be able
to do the Saturday work ourselves. We've only learned
since since daddy's trouble, and since Greta left.
creek is nearly 1,000 feet long. The
work of clearing'' th right of way In
the city of Monmouth is in progress.
High School Paper Out
The first issue of the high school
paper, the "New Tattler." appeared
Only Faith knew some things before, so we're real proud
that we're of some account and not dead-weights on
mother's hands." . . .
To her utter astonishment it was after eleven before
she knew it Then Mrs. McKenzie came in. "I shall
turn out my good fairies now," she said. " I want to
get dinner alone. I have such pkasant things to think
about from my reading ; and your father has some new
ideas for his article. Now run off; and play till dinner."
She drove them before her, laughing. When Frances
went to her room she fonnd it m perferct order. ."I
wonder if Elsie did it Terhaps I might make my bed
myself," she thought
In the afternoon Elsie's friends came to see Frances,
and thev had such a pleasant afternoon that when Fran
ces went to bed that m'sht, she thought : " I believe I
won't write father to take me away yet; but I never
knew such people before."
One day came invitations for Jack, Elsie, and Frances
to go to a party at Elsie's particular friend's Janice
Frances, coming into the hall unexpectedly, found
Elsie talking to Jack, her usually sunny face downcast
ar.d decidedly cloudy.
Once she would have passed on, but she felt a sudden
and novel pain at seeing Elsie, who was always tainkr
1115 of her comfort,, in trouble herself.
"It's nothing," declared Elsie; but Jack blurted out:
"It's her shoes. She hasn't any to wear to the party
but these, ar.i they're pretty bad."
" Why. get some others. Don't they have nice shoes
here ? " Frances asked, in surprise.
''Oh, yci; but shoes cost money," said Jack, in spite
of Elsie's frowns.
" Oh ! " Frances stopped short She ran back to her
room. She took out her purse. Then she put it back.
"Elsie wouldn't like money: what can I do?" she
thought anxiously. It was so new to her to think cf
others. She ran to her trunk and took out three pairs
of slippers. " The very thing ! " she thought, catching
up a pair of soft brown ones. " They will match her
brown dress," she said aloud, and ran to the hall. " Do
take these," she said, " I've several pairs." She held out
the slippers. Elsie's face flushed.
it : vi ::: i( . : : V . -iiVK -,-. ; -V. ..-Si r'-: ;' -. s-:T:
"You're very kind," she said, "but mother doesn't
like us to borrow."
" Then keep them," said Frances.
"What are you to keep?" Mrs. McKenzie's voice
startled them. She stood in the door smiling, while
Frances explained. . .
" I think we shall have to break my rule this time,
Elsie," she said; "Frances is so kind, and the slippers
are so pretty."
Elsie followed her mother into the kitchen and shut
the door. " Mother, I don't want Frances' slippers. I'd
rather stay at home. Jack told her I hadn't any, and
she is so so "
" Kind," supplied her mother.
" Well, she u now, but she says such horrid things ;
she fairly flings her riches in your face. She thinks
poor people aren't like her. She "
The mother drew the. excited child toward her:
"Don't let us be rude and ungrateful just because
we're poor in money, Elsie," she said. "You've done a
great deal for Frances, let her do something for you.
She meant it kindly, and it-seercs to me it would be fool
ish and very unkind to refuse her. loan of the slippers
and stay at home and let her-go without you to the
parry. There is a pride that is wrong."
Elsie ran put cf the kitchen and up the back stairs to
the little room she shared v.ith Faith. Later, her mother
wasn't surprised to hear her say to Frances : " Thank
you so much for the slippers, Frances ; if it wasn't for
you I'd lose the party." And Frances went off to her
room that Saturday to dress with a new, warm feeling
in her heart. ,
Weeks and months, passed and Frances was conscious
of an unusual stir and subdued excitement throughout
the little house. She came upon Jack and Elsie in ear
nest consultation 011 the back stj.irs: she found Faith
and her mother in the kitchen talking .earnestly; yet at
siht of her they changed the conversation. Frances felt
suddenly shut out and alocf. it hurt her. It was Elsie
who caught sight of her expression one day and fol
lowed her into her room. , - .
"We're in a big seort for daddy," she said at once.
' Wc didn't want to bother you with it You see the
time is very near for daddy's operation. It costs a lot,
and we haven't much. We've tried to do without and
work at home ; but the sum hasn't prown enough yet.
So Jack has been seising papers out of school, and Faith
has taken orders for fancy work, and I've been so anx
ious to work, and now mother is going to- help me mnke
candy to sell to the hotel guests and other folks. It's
only a little, but I want to help." ; ;
"Ando do I," said Frances eagerly. "Why can't I
write to p3pa to send a lot of money, then you won't
have to work?" ' ;
yesterday afternoon after the close of
school. The paper, which is literary
In character, . and also prints high
6chool news, . is published by the . stu
dents. Mr. Mann, professor of -English,
represents the teachers in the
publication. This is the first time for
"Oh, no!" said Elsie; then she added gently: "It is
so kind, but daddy is so proud he wouldn't like it lie
hopes he won't have to borrow of any one, ever. But if
we earn it, it's different."
" Then I shall earn something, too," said Frances, with
a lump in her throat. " You seem to think. I don't care
because I've money, but I do. You said you'd make me
one of you, and you don't."
"WTiy, Frances! of course we do. I didnt think
you'd be interested"
" No, you think I'm cold and horrid. Well, I can earn,
too. I'm going to do something for your father, you
Never before in all her life had Frances been so de
termined to haveher way; but what could she do? They
; wouldn't take money, except her board ; and how in te
world should she earn money? She lay awake a whole
hour for two nigliis wondering what she could do to
even add a dollar to the precious pije in Elsie's stocking.
And then the inspiration came. Like a .flash, ahe remem
bered that Mrs. Blair, a busy mother of five children, had
declared that if she could just get some one to make but
tonholes for her, she would gladlv pay well for the work
Now, since coming to Fairfax, Frances, with Elsie, had
taken lessons of Mrs. McKenzie on Saturdays, in button
hole making and darning, and where Elsie made preat
eye9 of the holes and darned well, Frances' tuUonholes
were things of beauty and her darns very ordinary. But
would she have the courage to ask for the wtrk? And
would she give up hours of the precious Saturdays to do
it? The Frances of eight months before would not have
even given the project a thought, but this was a different
nirl. This new Frances, trembling In the knees, and
with a voice rather shaky, rang the Blairs' doorbell that
very day. But instead of a stern rcpuhe she found a
woman eager and ready, and she came away with a big
bundle of children's clothing in her arms.
It was hard work to go off Saturdays to her room and
work, but as she said, it wasn't any harder than for
Elsie. And when at the end of the four weeks she laid
four dollars in Elsie's hand, I doubt if Frances Cope
land was ever so happy in all her life before!
With Mrs. McKenzie's added sum from the furnishing
of home-made eatables, and aa extra 6um from an article.
of Mr. McKenzie's, there was enough for the operation
It would take too long to tell of its success, the tri
umphant return of the husband and father, the joy of the
All too soon came the day when Frances was to join
her parents in New York. She realized with fresh sur
prise what a wrench the leaving would cost her.
"I shall get ahead of them for once," she thought;
and for several days before, she was preparing gifts to
be bidden in drawers and closets to be found alter her
departure. She found the most exciting diversion in
planning these surprises. The new book, which Elsie
wanted, the inexpensive but pretty copy of Burne-Jones's
"Hope" for Mrs. McKenzie, and roller-skates for the
boys, and for Faith a collar her own work.
And as the train rolled out of the station Jack said to
Elsie: "Well, she's a pretty nice girl, after all. I like
her; yet I thought when she came, she was a lit lie
snob ! "
Later on, Frances was pouring forth her experiences
to her father and mother with such an unusual enthu
siasm that they looked at her in amazement
"I never knew people like the McKenzies! Why,
father, they haven't any money, yet nobody can pity
them. They have so much besides. I can't tell what I
mean; but they have. I, felt that I didn't amount to
much. Elsie is so happy, and fpunky, and sweet; and
Jack is blunt, but he's kind, and so straight; and Faith
is so pretty, yet net a bit vain, and so smart, but not
from books; and Dick is cunning, though lie is such a
mischief and tries me so; and Mr. McKenzie is a real
hero. But I don't wonder, mamma, that you love Mrs.
McKenzie. She's the best cf all. 1 wanted so much to
see you both, but I just cried when I left them. And,
oh, papa, do promire me that we can all go there next
summer and take a house. I'd like it better than New
" Why, Frances," said her father in an amazed voice,
" you secui "
" Wakened up, father, that's the vay I feci. I didn't
know much before I don't know much now, but I'm
learning. Elsie says I ought to be the happiest girl with
so much, and I'm going to be. Let us hurrv home and
begin. .1 want to show you, mamma, and Mrs. McKen-
zie that I do amount to something after all ! And oh, I
can't wait to tell you that I can make brown brnd, and
buttonholes and beds, and and gingerbread," said
Frances, her eyes shining, her face aglow. .
Ah, the Sleeping Beauty was indeed awakening! The
Prince to rouse her dormant soul was a love and interest
for others, and the fact that outside of self is a world of
care, trouble, and joy, which even a gil may lessen or
severs! years that an attempt ha3
been made, to issue a school paper.
Heretofore all efforts have been un
successful because o non-support. The
"New Tattler" looks like a go.
RUNAWAY 0M HIpH BRIDGE
Ifniry Township Women Severely In
jured at Muscatine.
While driving home across the hih
bridge at Musatlna Thursday after
news all the time The Argus.
Willie was very proud of his first pants. That nigh 4
when he said his prayers, he said, Dear God, I 'A
thankful to say I have on pants now.
His father had found it necessary to rather severely
punish Robert, aged five. The little chap came running
to me with resentment in his heart
"Auntie," he sobbed, "did God make you?"
" Yes, Robert," I answered.
"And did he make ma?"
" And did he make me?" .J
" Certainly, my boy."
And did he make pa, too ? "
"Of course be did.
"Well," sobbed Robert sadly, "that's when he made a
mistake I "
Small Wallace accepted an invitation to a party, as
"Dear Louis: I will come to your party if it don't
rain " (then thinking that he might have to i.tay home iu
that case), "and if it does."
It was a minister's small son, whose habit it was to
ask God to bless each member of the family after his
prayer. Having been put to bed one night m a hurry,
he forgot one of them. Kneeling again with hands
clasped and eyes closed he addressed the Lord thus:
"Oh, Lord, wouldn't that kill you? I forgot grandma 11
God bless grandma Amen."
One night little Margaret on kneeling by her mama
to say her prayers, finished, Now I lay me," and forgot.
"Mama," she said, "you just start mc and theu I caa
By ELIZABETH PRICE
IT was very hot to sit still and tew. The needle .
would get sticky in spite of all the help the little
emery 6trawbcrry could give it, ajid Beth's faigers
had never felt so clumsy and uncomfortable. If only
May and Billy would play a little farther off it
would help some, but there they were in p!a:a sight,
under the very shadiest maple, with all the gar Beth
liked best , ,
It was an apron she was making white camlr:: with
wee cunning pockets and bretellcs that were to come
quite up to her shoulders, and narrow, dclic.-itt tatting
over-handed every bit of the way around or.'.y the belt
It wasn't at all like the aprons little girls wear nowa
days, but it was stylish then, and very pretty. 13-:h had
made it, every stitch seams and facing that had to be
hemmed down so carefully, and it was all c.ne except
a part of the tatting. But oh! there had been s::h 3 lot
of that yards and yards it seemed to ith, ss she
glanced longingly out once more at the shailc, zri May,
and Billy, and the games. When you are only eight
years old there are things that seem more interesting
than over-handinj. Mamma, busy at her own sowing,
heard a long-drawn sigh and looked t:p to 'mile com
fortingly. "I think you'll be through by five 0 cluck;
Ecthy," she said. "You know we must sp-tJ it c!T to-
nighty so as to have it entered on time. You've done
beautifully, dear, ar.d von deserve a premium whether
you get it or not." Beth smiled back and dr.-uUd that,
after all, it wasn't so dreadfully hot, and five ocock
wasn't very far away. "Do you think I'll get it,
mamma?" she asked for the twentieth time.
"I don't know, dear. If mamma was judse, yon
surely would, but they haven't invited me to awarJ any
prizes. You mustn't count on it too much, for j o j may
be disappointed, but your time has tv-t been waste 1 everf
if you get nothing but the pretty apron, r.nd ths pleasure
of knowing that you made it yoursolf, and very neatly."
"What is this talk 1 hear of premiums and my-'-r-ies?
" demanded Uncle Ed, coming in from the p rch.
" It's the County Fair, Uncle Ei! next wc.k and
they have offered five dollars to the hest sewin; u . !er
fourteen years old, and I'm trying to jet it," cxpLii-cd
"Which you surely ought to do, for I can testify that
your sewing is considerably less than fiireen years if
ace," declared the roguish uncle. But Teth was too f a'.l
of her subject to heed teasing. Uncle Ed h.iJ been away
for a month, and it was such a comfort to t'.v. 1 somebody
who hadn't heard the matter disc-;;ssed over nnd again.
" I'm only eiht. Uncle Ed, but I've been most as care
ful as fourteen, don't you think? " and the r.c.-ile-ronh-tned
forefinger, pointed to the tidy hem. Uncle Ed
hunted for his eye-glasses "beer use I can't see iheni at
all without," he declared. "Of all the ridiculously small
stitches why, Eeth, I'll be surprised if thoc near
sighted judges don't think you've glued that petticoat ;
"It's an apron, Uncle Ed," explained the sma'1 scam-
stress, patiently. "It's very importait, because if I get t
the money it's to ro into the hank to help v..y education,
s I can be a teacher, ar.d mamma won't have to v..rk."
"I see. Aid if vnu don't prt it von'!! have to be an
! .li . . . . . . I f
aiiius .11. your me. 1 sruxiid thr.' it ir rr,i ri .11 :
And then May and Billv clamored at the w:'nh v. ar.d
Beth set the last careful stitch, and the clod: struck Lvc
The County Fair began as usual : iust as if r. -th's apron
were not a part of it. It was too far awnv f r innirina
and the children tn nttp-i.t U,,t TT-1., IV. 1 . -i the last
day, and he was to bring back word of the r- : t. LYth
was certain she should not sleep a v. irk u"' i he came,
no matter how late that was, but mamnn i;v; v 1 on her
gr.injT to bed as usu.-.l. and the next t;:ing he h -w it
wa3 broad daylight. Uncle Ed was dcwn'in the dining
room, but he didn't say much just K)',kel wr his eyc-gh.-ses
ar.d talked about premium pigs ard n: w:nrr-mn
chir.es ar.d pretended he hadn't heurd a vr.l ulx .it -arrons.
Bethy crept awnv bv hers'-lf. She :rd.'rstioi1)
she hadn't gotten anv prcmii'm r.v.d Urcie Ed !i !n't hhe
to tell her. We!!, if" she couldn't ever l- erhinted 'f'd
have to be a dressmaker like mamma, anJ sew. t: ) :r:ttcr
how hot it was.
And then breakfast wns ready, ?nd Uncle Ed ca'ied
her to come otiick lefore he starved.
Siie slipped quietly into her chair, and r.wly lifted her
plate to release an cdqe of the napkin : nnd there, f-. L-r
it. folded neatly. Jay her verv own cambric r.pron with a
blue ribbon pinned fast, and acrcss it a smooth, pray
green. fascinating five-dollar bill.
And this isn't a made-up story -t for it every ft
noon the horse Crowing Mrs. Thomas 1
Thorpe cf Drury townEhip b"cam
frightened, ran n-vay, and collided with
another ris nrcr the Tllrois end eft
the structure. Mrs. Thorpe and hcrj1
daughter w-rc thrown out and severely I
injured. Their rig was wrecked.