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an
flEBALD- ADVANCE.
W. W. DOWNIE. Editor and I'ublis<
•^fllLBANK, S. D.
HIDE-AN'-SEEK.
a stttin' here a Iistenin' to the rattle of the
sleet,
As it hummers 'gainst the winders broad an'
high
0 the hum o' trade an' traffic sweepin' in
from of? the street,
As the heavy vans an' wagons rumble by
•jpAii the whirligig o' mem'ry as it goes a bobbin'
2T 'round,
S Hnngs some mighty welcome pictures into
I view,
the harp o' recollection has a sweet an'
sooth in' sound,
sar
An chela.
I Fer its music somehow makes me think o'
I you.
vjiow we ust to play at hide-an'-seek among the
$ straw au' hay,
'Bout the stacks an' sheds an' hay-mows, on a
sleepy summer day I
Bright an' early Sunday morning we 'ud start
for Sabbath school.
Dressed in gingham shirts an' suits o' cotton
ade
With our bare feet kissed an' fondled by the
breezes Ir?sh an' cool,
Where the cherry trees In blossom spread I
the'r shade.
reporter
°ps are or
ik- In the
the posse*
bloodshed
11. -Tli,
I
'n brougli:
I'icdra
a. genera
of Di
lia an
maleor
and wi.
ar/.a. 0
lahua th(
revoltec
We ud chase the yellow butterflies along the
dusty road.
With our hats we'd fight the sassy bumble
bees,
•Till your freckled face was redder than the
hollyhocks that growed
In the churchyard, 'mong the feathered cedar
trees
We'd recite our Bible verses in a manner mild
an' meek—
Then we'd hurry home for dinner an' a game o'
hide-an'-seek.
There was Torniry Black played with us, an'
his hair like tangled tow
Streamed about a pair o' gray an' sober eyes:
There was Jimmy White, whose head was
black as any livin' crow,
An' with features sort o' pucltered-like an'
wise.
Yes. an' little Polly Sadler, with 'er wavy
chestnut curls,
Ust, to stand around an' watch us as we
played
Seemed she'd ruther be with us than playin
long-with other girls,
Tho' we didn't like to have 'er, I'm afraid
Au' I've seen 'er slyly wipin' tricklin' tears
from off er cheek.
When she thought no one was lookin'-~as we
played at hide-an'-seeli.
Up where the
beneath the gloomy rafters,
wasps ad built the'r nest
An' the spider webs was reachin
wide—
Stretched upon a dusty timber—snugly
from all the rest-
far an'
hid
Was the place where me an'you'ud of'en
hide.
There the swailers sailin' 'round us screamed
the'r anger in our ears.
As they fanned the chaffy cobwebs in a gale
Au tne youngsters couldn't find us, cause they
had sech ouby fears
'Bout the wasps, an' cause the boards looked
kind o' frail:
but they'd st and upon the ladders, an" they'd
strain the'r necks an' peek
'Till we'd nearly die a laflln' at 'em playin'
hide-an'-seek.
Ah. we've drifted an' we've scattered to the
four winds of the earth!
Tomniv bit the dust on Shiloh's bloody sod
You a
re still engaged at farmin' on the place
thiil gave you birth
Jimmy's over there in India servin' liod.
'ave raado a little money an' 'ave settled
down at last,
In the city fer to lead a quiet life:
*Canse my childern's grown an' married—all
my workin" days 're past.
An' I've no one left to carc fer but my wife.
Yes. an' little Polly Sadler sweeps 'er gray hair
'cross my cheek.
As she watches mc a wrltin'—kind o' playin'
hide-an'-seek!
"S. Q. Lapius," in Ohio Farmer.
I'MPH, here's a
nice go, I'm
sure," Joe No
land muttered,
as he emerged
from a business
building and turned down the street at
an angry pace. "Here I've been led to
believe all along that I was to inherit a
fortune on my twenty-first birth
day. and that 1 was tt) step
into it without anything to do
whatever and now it transpires that
the fortune is mine only on conditions,
and such conditions as I can't accept.
In short, if I step into the fortune my
uncle left I must step into matrimony
at the same time, and with a woman
of my uncle's choosing. Well, it's all
over with me. so far as the fortune is
concerned, for I positively will not
marry for money."
Joe tore along the streets, busy with
his thoughts and blind to everything
around him. until, in turning a corner
he ran square into a pair of outstretched
arms. lie looked up to find that it was
Dick llerrington who had stopped him.
"Hello, here, old boy!" Dick cried.
"I want to know what's come over
you? Are you fleeing from the police,
or have you an important appointment
to meet'.'"
"Neither, Dick," Joe replied, with a
grim smile.
"Then, what's the ocasion of all this
liaste? By George." eying- Joe closely,
"you haven't been having a scene with
some one, have you? You look all
broke up from som« cause."
"I've not been having a scene, exact
ly." Joe replied, "butsomething rather
similar."
"Fact? Let's hear the particulars.
old man, so I may tender my sympa
thies.
"I've just been up to see old Lawyer
lily—mv guardian, you know."
•Yes.''
"Well, I went tip to see about that
fortune my uncle left, and which 1
supposed was to be mine."
'•Was to be yours! Isn't it to be
yours?"
"No, it seems that it is not There
is one provision in the will that knocks
me clear out."
"What is that, Joe?"
"Why, it is a provision to the effect
that before 1 can claim the fortune I
must marry a second cousin by the
name of Brown, a woman I have never
seen and of whom I know absolutely
nothing."1
Dick whistled, then laughed.
"Well," he said directly, "is that all?"
"All!"' Joe echoed half angrily.
"Isn't that enough
"l'erhaps. Ilut sav. I fail to see any
thing very terrible in that provision.
There's no need of your losing the
fortune, I'm sure.''
"There isn't? I fail to see why."
"IIuinph. man, what's to hinder your
marrying the cousin? Hunt her up,
j— o
bo-V'
and milke her
your
wlfe'
Never!" cried Joe, emphatically.
"When I marry 1 propose to choose my
own wife. I'll never have a woman
forced on me."
"But the fortune, Joe!" Dick ex
claimed.
"They can do with that what they
please." Joe replied. "I give it up."
"And you don't propose to see Miss
Brown at all?"
"No."
"Well, if I were in your place I
would, Joe. She may be good-loolang
and young and all th at. I'd see her,
and if she isn't positively hideous I'd
try and compromise with my con
science a little and marry her, even if
I didn't love her."
"I won't do it," Joe replied. "If I
ever marry it will be for love."
"Well, you might learn to love her."
"No, I should do no such thing.''
For a little while the two young men
walked on in silence. Finally Dick
Herrington renewed the conversation
by remarking
"Wonder what Miss Brown's first
name is?"
"Mary," Joe replied.
In ease you don't marry her what
becomes of the fortune?"
"She gets it."
"She does? The whole fifty thou
sand dollars?"
"Yes."
"By George! she'll be well fixed,"
Dick said, half musingly. "Wonder
where she is to be found?"
"1 have no idea."
"I suppose Illy knows?"
"Yes, I presume so."
"Say, Joe." Dick went on. after a
short pause. "I believe I'll look Miss
Brown up m.yself. I believe I might
make myself solid with her, and a wife
with fifty thousand dollars would be a
right comfortable thing to have
around."
Dick spoke jestingly, but there was
an air of seriousness about his speech
and manner that Joe could not help
noting, and which caused him to say:
"Dick, you wouldn't marry the lady
for money simply, would you?"
"No. of course not. If I married her
it would be for love, but that much
money might have its weight in win
ning my affections. Fifty thousand
dollars is a charm that every woman
doesn't possess, and when it is added to
the usual female charms the possessor
of it is likely to wield a powerful in
fluence over a man's heart."
"It might be so with some men's
hearts," Joe answered, impatiently,
"but not with mine."
"Well, all mankind are not provided
with the same idea, I suppose. Here is
where I leave you, Joe. Good-by."
Joe hurried to his lodgings, where he
shut himself in his room and for a long
time considered his situation seriously.
He was a newspaper reporter, poor
and hard-worked, and it was hard to
take up the pencil again and return to
the ceaseless grind of news-gathering
when a fortune had been almost in his
I»1CK MKKK1NGTON AND A LAi»Y.
grasp, and he had considered himself
rich.
"Confound it all!" he mused. "I wish
I had never heard of that fifty thousand
dollars. Last week I was satisfied with
my work ami perfectly contented to live
on what. I earned. But now it is differ
ent. It is cruelty to animals to fool
people as I have been fooled, and any
one who does it ought to be prosecuted.
Two hours ago I went out of this room
considering myself rich and planning
all kinds of enjoyment, and now I come
back as poor as I ever was. Well, thank
goodness, I've got the nerve to stand
it. I'm no worse off than I was only it
makes a fellow feel kind of sold out to
wake up :-ui lenly after thinking him
self rich and find that it's all moon
shine. Well, such is life."
Joe felt his disappointment deeply,
for his struggle for existence had been
a long, hard one and he had planned
out many things that he would do with
his wealth to bring him pleasure and
enjoyment. After a little while, how
ever, he recovered his usual spirits,
and, leaving his room with his old
jaunty air, he repaired at once to the
office of the morning paper for which
he worked.
The managing editor received him
cordially and immediately gave him an
assignment to one of the famous
pleasure resorts near town. Joe ac
cepted the position gladly, since it was
a great relief to get away, even for a
short time, from the hot streets and
crowded thorougnfares of the metrop
olis.
In his new position Joe found much
pleasure, for, although he was com
pelled to work hard, there was an ex
hilaration in the sea breezes and nov
elty in his surroundings. It was far
belter, at least, than the city, with its
heat and dust and endless noise.
About a week after his arrival Joe
was one evening walking on the beach,
and in passing around a point where a
small path led he catne face to face
with Dick Herrington and a la iy. lie
was surprised to meet Dick there, and
Dick was equally as much surprised to
meet him, and each remarked some
thing to that effect as they shook
hands.
Of course Dick introduced Joe to his
companion, though he plainly pre
ferred not to do so. Joe ilushed and
started when he heard the lady's
name, for instantly it occurred to him
that she was the person his uncle had
selected for him to marry. There
were many Miss Browns, to be sure,
but he felt confident that this was that
special one, his cousin, and that Dick
Herrington had indeed hunted her and
with the intention of securing that
fifty thousand dollars.
His surmises were correct, as he
learned from Herrington later. She
was indeed Mary Brown, and Dick
was laying siege to her heart with the
purpose of winning her to his bosom.
"You see," said Dick, "old Bly in
formed me that Miss Brown was down
here, and as I happened to be coming
this way I thought I'd get acquainted
with her. I met her to-day for the first
time, and I must say that I am charmed
with her already. But, by the bye,
how came you here, old fellow?"
"I have been here for a few days,"
replied Joe, "reporting for the—"
"Ah!" exclaimed Dick, in a tone of
relief.
"You thought, like yourself, I had
come in quest of Miss Brown, eh?"
"Well, I didn't know. I thought per
haps there might be something of that
kind."
"No. 1 shall not enter the field
against you, Dick. Go in and win if
you can."
"Thanks. That's just what 1 shall
do, and I believe I shall succeed. Miss
Brown is charming, and, though she is
not quite as young as I had imagined
her to be, she is very handsome and
exceedingly intellectual. 1 like intel
lectual women, Joe."
When Joe was alone that night he
laughed as he had not laughed for
weeks, and all at the remembrance of
Miss Brown's appearance. That lady
was at least forty years old, and as
homely as a woman could be and live.
She might be intellectual, but it so she
didn't show it
"Well," he remarked to« himself,
"Dick has gone in for that
S.jO,000,
and
if he's willing to marry Miss Brown to
get it he certainly should have it She's
far less desirable than I had supposed
possible."
Tho next day Miss Brown left for
another resort, and Dick followed her,
so Joe saw no more of them during his
stay on the Beaeli.
Two or three weeks passed and then
one day there was an accident in which
Joe. figured as a hero.
A gentleman and two ladies were
out in a boat, and from some cause
they were capsized. The gentleman
grasped one of the ladies and kept lier
and himself out of the water, but he
could not reach the other and she was
left to her fate.
There was no boat at hand and the
crowd of spectators who gathered on
the shore could do nothing but look oft
and wait for the end.
Joe Noland took in the situation at a
glance, and, plunging into the water,
swam to the rescue of the perishing
lady. It was a hard struggle, but he
battled with the waves and at last
reached her just as her hands loosened
their hold on the upturned boat He
supported her until a boat was brought,
thus saving her life.
On reaching the shore Joe repaired
directly to his room, wishing to avoid
the thanks of the lady and her friends,
but he had not been there long before
he received an invitation to call at Mr.
and Mrs. Elmore's room. Indeed, Mr.
Elmore came himself to present the in
vitation and to urge its acceptance.
There was no help for it, so Joe
went. He was introduced to Mrs. El
more then Mr. Elmore said, turning to
a young lady:
"Miss Brown, this is Mr. Noland,
your rescuer."
Miss Brown extended her hand and
attempted to pour out her gratitude to
her deliverer, but she blushed and
stammered, and did not say at all what
she wished to say. She said quite
enough to satisfy Joe, however, and
before he left the room he felt that the
debt was his. and that it was a blessed
privilege to risk his life to save a crea
ture so divine.
Miss Brown was young and beautiful,
not in the least like his cousin, and he
was madly in love with her. He felt
ihai he would a thousand times rather
have her for his wife even if he had to
live on bread and water than to have
his cousin with a hundred times fifty
thousand dollars.
A month passed, and then one day
Joe Noland ventured to breathe his
love to Miss Brown. She listened,
blushed, but did not repulse him. They
became engaged. Shortly after that
Joe made a discovery. His Miss Brown
was his cousin, and the other was—
well, few people knew anything of
MISS BROWN KXTKNDKD HHK HAXD.
her save that she was a husband
hunter.
Dick Herrington had come down in
quest of Miss Mary Brown, and he had
taken to the lady he fir.-,t met, never
stopping to consider that there might
be a dozen women of that name in a
place so populous.
So Joe Noland, although he refused
to marry for money, got the fortune
after all, while Dick Herrington, who
was willing to sacrifice everything for
money got—left—Thomas I*. Mont
fort, in Chicago News.
A MUSICAL WELL.
Th® yu«er Natural Curiosity ot l'acoma.
Wash.
One of the most curious wells in the
west is on the place of Henry M. Hen
derson on Oakes avenue. This well
can play a tune on a dozen different
musical instruments at the same time,
and has done it, which is an accom
plishment that no human being is
known to possess. The well is about
four hundred feet deep. At nearly all
hours of the day or night a wind blows
up from the bottom of it, and whistles
through the eracks of the tight board
covering. When the wind does not
blow out it seems to be sucked in by
the well.
An abundant supply of good water is
in the well at all times, and where the
wind comes from or where it goes is a
mystery which Mr. Henderson has not
solved. One day not long ago Mr. Hen
derson collected all the musical instru
ments he could—amounting to eight—
from his neighbors and friends. He
bored holes in the boards covering the
well, and at one aperture placed a cor
net, at another a bass horn, at another
a clarionet, then a fife, an immense tin
horn abont three yards long, which he
had made, a mouth organ and other in
struments, up to the number men
tioned.
One after another they began tc
blow as he put them in. The hoarse
growl of the bass horn mingled with
the clarion tones cf the cornet and
clarionet etc. When all were going
the din was terrible, and there did not
eeem to be a good note sounded. The
wind does not come up from the well
in a steady blow, but in gusts ol
more or less force, and it was amusing
as well as astonishing to hear the old
bass and the nine-foot tin tube snort
together.—Tacoma Herald.
Yankee Notion* In Asia.
A correspondent, giving an account
of his experience while traveling
through Asia, says: "I saw advertise
ments for the sale of American watches
filling whole columns in newspapers
and large spaces on the outer walls of
buildings in all the great cities of
India. 1 heard the hum of the Ameri
can sewing machine in the byways and
broad streets of Bombay and Calcutta
and Rangoon. I saw American lamps
for burning American petroleum
hawked about the streets on wheelbar
rows for sale in Yokohama and Tokio
and Shanghai. I heard the clatter of
the American typewriter in Chefti and
Tientsin and Swalow and Aintab. I
saw American tram cars running in
Tokio, and the American windmill
pumping water on the bluffs of Yoko
hama. I was glad when I heard the
click of Connecticut clocks keeping
good time for orientals, who are al
ways behind. California canned fruits
and Oregon salmon and Boston baked
bean^ in hotels all over the east made
me feel that home was not so very far
away."—American Mail.
—Fair Damsel (to our artist whoisex*
plaining the, beauties of his picture)—
"Charming! Charming! But, oh, Mr.
FitzMadder, what a delightful room
this would be for a dance— with the
musicians in the gallery and all the
easels and pictures and things cleared
away!"—1'uneh.
—The result of too much Greek—First
classic—"By the way, hadn't Dante got
another name?" Second classic—"Yes,
Alfleri, I think—or else Alighieri.
First classic—"Ah,perhaps you're right.
I had a notion it was Gabriel Ilosset.ti
or something!"—Punch.
PERSONAL AND LITERARY".
—The late king of Wurtemburg wa#
very stout, as was his grandfather, the
first king of the Wurtemburg family,
who had so great a girth at the waist
coat that he could not reach his plate
when at dinner.
—Sir Edwin Arnold says he has writ
ten
R.OOO
editorial leaders, each of them
averaging over half a column in length.
He enjoys editorial work greatly, and
i^ never happier, he says, than when
pegging away with a pen. He always
smokes a pipe when writing.
—A noted character 111 the Sac and
Fox nation in Nebraska is George E.
iormelo, who for twenty years has
teen an interpreter in the employ of
the government. He speaks fourteen
Indian dialects, and, though now sev
enty years old and blind, has not out
lived his usefulness.
—A committee has been formed in
Home of which Signor Cavalotti, Mr.
Swinburne, Mr. Gladstone. Signor
Amici, Signor Botighi and Signor Me
notti Garibaldi are members, for the
purpose of erecting a monument to
Percy Shelley, the English poet who
was drowned in lsi:].
-Emperor Wilhelm was very anxious
to know, while visiting a certain corps,
whether the officers had any nicknames
for him. After being pressed, one of
the young men modestly replied that
because of the emperor's great enthu
siasm about naval matters they usually
alluded to him as "Gondola Willie."
—The countess of Aberdeen, it is
said, edits a monthly maga/.in-e entitled
Onward and Fpward, of which her hus
band is sub-editor and publisher. It is
conducted in the interest of working
girls. and is already a financial success.
Their little nine-year-old daughter also
edits and her father publishes a little
monthly magazine entitled Wee Willie
Winkle.
—A strange figure on the streets of
Washington is that of Josephine J. Ja
roeki, a Polish countess and a grand
niece of Count Pulaski, of revolution
ary fame. She is described as a "hu
man dried apple," poor to indigence and
shabbily dressed, and she is about fifty
years old. For twenty-five years nhe
has been fighting for a fortune left by
Count Pulaski.
—The growth of periodical literature
in France is shown by the following
figures: In
1S*S()
only ),07r periodicals
were published in that co intry. while
in 1890 the number had increased t-o
.,011. Of the latter number 499 were
conservative, 1.U54 republican and :,448
pursued no political tendency. Paris
had 499 conservative and 1,164 repub
lican publications.
HUMOROUS.
Martyr —"What is the tune you are
whistling?" Whistler—"That's what I
am trying to find out."
Wagg—"Smith, the baker, is a very
scholary person'" Quigley—"Why so?"
Wagg—"He has a sign over his pie
counter: 'Such stuff as dreams are
made of.' "—Harper's Bazar.
—Mrs. Kawler—"So your son is a
doctor! Has he been in the business
long?" Mrs. Backlotte—"Oh, yes, he
must have been, for he wrote that he is
n veterinary at it."—Boston News.
—She doesn't tell ma. either.
Ho tells her hew wicked he used to be,
Till she shudders and softly crie»"La!"
Bnt never, not ever, no. never does ho
Tell any such yarns to her ma.
-Indianapolis Journal.
—"Mr. Van Arndt is a remarkable
man. Actually, he can't dance!"
"Nothing remarkable about that. Lots
of fellows can't dance." "Yes but Mr.
Arndt knowns he can't and uever even
tries."—Truth.
—Might Be Worse.—Gussie—"Don't
you think 'The Man Without a Country'
is just as sad as it can be?" Tessie—
"Ye-es, it's very sad indeed. But I
think the countt y without a man would
be a good deal sadder, don't you?"—
Boston Post.
—Tom De Witt—"Vassar can not
take the same rank among the colleges
as Yale or Harvard." Kitty Winslow
—"Why not?" Tom De Witt—"Well,
for one thing, she never publishes in
the newspapers the name of her oldest
living graduate."—Kate Field's Wash
ington.
—Brown—"Do you believe there's
such a thing in married life as perfect
love? A case where both are of the
same mind?" Fogg—"Oh, yes there
are the Googleys, for instance. She
thinks there never was a man in the
world like her husband, and so does
he."—Boston Transcript-.
—Sappy- "I say,•Chappy. I've wather
got the ideali that I uevah could be an
actali, don tcher know?" Chappy—
"What's the weason. deali boy?" Sappy
"Why,old fellah,-donteher see. there's
a wule I've wead someweah that weads,
'think twice befoali you ahct' That
would wuin me it's more than a fellah
can do now to think wonth, and 1
should just expiah if I had to think
twice, ba jove."—Boston Courier.
—Good Cause for Complaint.— Maj.
Murgatroyd—"No, sir I do not like the
newspaper of to-day! Let me give you
an illustration. Last week I met a re
porter of the Moon—casually, you un
derstand—and told him casually—a
good story about Judge Buugstarter's
visit to my house and the time we had.
Made him promise he wouldn't publish
it. See?" —Pompano—"Yes. He prom
ised?" Maj. M. "He did. Then what
do you suppose?" Pompano (wearily)—
"D' no."* Maj. M. (savagely) —"lia
didn't publish it Not a line, sir not a
liua!"—
Smith, Gray & Co.'s Monthly.