The Mitchell capital., September 18, 1908, Image 12

About The Mitchell capital. (Mitchell, Dakota [S.D.]) 1879-1918

Image provided by: South Dakota State Historical Society – State Archives

                
CHAPTER XXIH.
The north wall of the church at Co
tori End Is only four paces from the
house, the church standing within the
moat. Isolated aa the sacred building,
therefore. Is from the outer wbrld by
the wide spreading chase and close
massed with' the homestead. Sir An
thony had- name excuse- for consider
ing it as nuwb- it part of his demesne
an tha. will" or the smithy. In words
lio would have been willing to- admit a
distinction, but In thought I fancy he
lumped It with the rest of his posses
sions.
It was with a lowering eyes that on
•this Sunday morning he watched from
•tils room over the gateway the ususuul
stream of- people making for the
church. Perchance he had In his mind
other Sundays—Sundays when he had
walked out at this hour, light of heart
una kind of eye, with his staff In his
mist, and his glove dangling, and his
«log at his heels, and, free from care,
•had taken pleasure In each bonnet
loffed and each old wife's "God bless
.ye. Sir Anthony!" Well, those days
Avere *»ne.,, No w^theralii,
dripped from
the eaves—for a thaw had come in the
night—and the bells that could on oc
casion ring so cheerily sounded sad and
forlorn. His daughter, when she came,
according to custom, bringing his great
nervlce book, could scarcely look him
In the face. I know not whether even
then his resolution to dare all might
•not at sound of a word from her or at
'night of her face have melted like yes
terday's Ice, but before the word could
be spoken or the eyes meet another
•top rang on the stoni staircase, and
Brother Ferdinand entered.
"They are here!" he said In a low
voice. "Six of them. Anthony, and stur
dy fellows, as alt Clopton's men are.
If you do not think your people will
Htand by you"—
.-Tt|e. knight flred at this suggestion.
"What," he burst out, turning from
the wFitd0trn "If Cludde men cannot
meet Clopton men. the times are In
deed cone mad! Make way and let me
come! Though the mass be never said
again in Colon church, it shall be said
^oday!" And lie swore a great oath.
He strode down the stairs nnd under
thfi gateway, where were arranged, ac
cording to the custom of the house on
wa( duys, fill he servants, with Bald
win nnd Martin Luther at their head.
The knight stalked through thorn with
A gloomy brow. His brother followed
.him, a faint smile flickering about the
corners of Ills mouth. Then came Fer
dinand's wife and Petronllla, the latter
with her hood drawn close about her
ffice Anne, with her chin In the air and
her eyes aglow. "It Is not a bit of a
bustle will scare her!" Balwin muttered
as he. fell In behind her and eyed her
t«ok with no great favor.
"No, so,.long as It does not touch
her," Martin replied In a cynical whisp
er. ".She Is well mated—well mated
and ill fated! Ha, lia!"
"Silencei fool!" growled his compan
ion angrily.. "IS this a time for antics?"
."Ayo. It'16!"'Martin-retorted swiftly,
though with the same caution, "for,
when wise men turn fools, fools are put
,tQ It to act up to their profession! You
•fee. brother?" And he deliberately cut
a caper. His eyes werd glistening, and
tho nerves on one side of his face
twitched oddly. Baldwin looked at
'him and muttered that Martin was go
Irtg to have one of his mad fits. What
hnii grown on the fool of late?
'Tho knight reached tho church porch
and passed through the. crowd which
awaited him there:' 'Save for Its un
usual slr.e and some' strange faces to
bo seen-otMts skirts,-theue was not iri
dicaU«HVoti trouble. He wa-lked, tap
ping his stick on the pavement a little
more loudly than usual, to his pl9.ee In
the front' pew. The household, the vil
lagers, the strangers, pressed In behind
Kim until overy seat was filled. Even
tho table monument of Sir Piers
Cludde, which stood lengthwise In the
aisle, wais seized upon, and If the two
Mlmilar monuments which stood to right
and left below the chancel steps had
not been Under the knight's eyes they,
too. would have been Invaded. Yet all
was*, done decently and In order, but no
scrambling or ill words. The Clopton
.men were there. Baldwin had marked
them well, and so had a dozen stout
fellows, sons of Sir Anthony's tenants.
•Bjut they behaved discreetly, and amid
»uch silence as Father Carey never re
trfombor&l -to have faced he began the
Roman service.
'The December light fell faintly
through the east window on the father
his ministrations, on his small
acolytes, on tho four Cludde brasses
before the altar. It fell everywhere—
on gray dusty walls buttressed by gray
t.ahn bs which left but a narrow space in
.the middle of the chancel. The mar
ble crusader to the left matched the
canopied bed o£ Sir Anthony's parents
on the right, the abbess* tomb In the
next row faced the plainer monument
of Sir Anthony's wife, a vacant place
by her
.side awaiting his own.
effigy, and
there were others. The chancel was so
am all—nay, the 'church, too—so small
and old nnd gray and solid and the
tombs were, ho massive that they el
•fo'OWSdl
1
.THE
A Romance of Queen Mary's Reign.
BY STANLEY J. WEYMAN.
one another. The" very dust
.which rose as men stirred was the dust
of Cluddes. Sir Anthony's brow re
laxed.. He listened gravely and sadly.
And then the Interruption came. "I
'protest!" a rough voice In rear of the
.crowd cried suddenly, ringing harshly
and strangely above the father's ac
cents and the solemn hush. "I protest
against this «ervlce!"
A thrill, of astonishment ran through
the crowd, and all rose. Every man In
the church turned round. Sir Anthony
•.mong the first, and looked in the di
rection of the voice. Then It was seen
that the Clopton men had massed
themselves about the door in the south
west corner, a strong position, when re
treat was easy. Father Carey, after a
momentary glance,. went on as If he
bad not, heard, but his voice shook, and
•all'still watted with their faces turned
.toward the west end.
"I protest in the name of the queen!"
the name man crier sharply, while his
Sallow ratlned a murmur so that the
priest's voice was drowned.
Sir Anthony stepped Into the aisle,
bis face Inflamed with anger. The ln
tnterruption taking place there, in
that place, seemed to him a double
profanation.
"Who Is that brawler?" he said, hla
hand trembling on his staff, and all the
old dames trembled too. "Let him stand
•ut."
The sheriffs spokesman was so con
cealed by hta fellows that he could not
be seen, but he answered civilly
enough.
"I am no bcawler," he said. "I only
.. require .the law to be observed, and that
yourfcnp.w, sir. J, am here on behalf of
the&n&rlft ~and I warn all present that
a continuation of this service will ex
(MMe^ them to grievous pains and pen
alties. If you desire it, I will read the
royal order to prove that do not speak
Without warrant."
Begone, knave, you and your fel
lowsl" Sir Anthony cried. A loyal lean
I In all else, .and the last to deny the
queen's right or title, ho had no
reasonable answer to give and
could only bluster. "Begone, do
I you hear?" he repeated, and he rapped
his .staff on the pavement, and then,
raising It, pointed to the door.
All Colon thought the men must go,
but the men, perhaps, because they
were Clopton, did not go. And Sir An
thony had not so completely lost his
head as to proceed to extremities, ex
tremities, except In the last resort. Af
fecting to consider the Incident at an
end, ho stepped back to his pew with
out waiting to see whether the man
obeyed him or no and resumed his de
votions. Father Carey, at a nod from
him, went on with the interrupted ser
vice.
But again the priest had barely read
a dozen lines before the same man
made the congregation start by crying
loudly, "Stop!"
"Go on I" shouted Sir Anthony in a
voice of thunder.
"At your peril!" retorted the Inter
vener.
"Go on!" from Sir Anthony again.
Father Carey stood silent, trembling
and looking from one to the other.
Many a priest of his faith would have
rlson 011 the storm, and In the spirit
of Hildebrand hurled his church's
curse at the Intruder. But tho father
was not of these, and he hesitated,
fumbling with his surplice with his
feeble white hands. He feared as
much for his patron as for himself, and
It was on the knight that his eyes fin
ally rested. But Sir Anthony's brow
was black. He got no comfort there.
So the father took courage and a long
breath, opened his mouth and began to
read on amid the hush of suppressed
excitement and of such anger and
stealthy defiance as surely English
church had never seen before. As he
read, however, he gathered courage and
his voice strength. Tho solemn words,
so ancient, so familiar, fell on the still
ness of the? church and awed even the
sheriff's men. To the surprise of near
ly every one, there was no further in
terruption. The service ended quietly.
So, after all, Sir Antnony had his
way and stalked out, stiff and unbend
ing. Nor was there any falling off,
but. rather an Increase, In tho respect
with which his people rose, according
to custom, as he passed. Yet und^r that
increase of respect lay a something
which cut the old man to the heart.
He saw that his dependents pitied him
while they honored him that they
thought him a foot for running
his head against a stone wall—as Mar
tin Luther put It—even while they felt
that there was something grand in It
too.
During the rest of the day he went
about his usual employments, but
probably, with little zest. He had done
what he had done without any clear
Idea how he was going to proceed. Be
tween his loyalty In all else and his
treason In this It would not have been
easy for a Solomon to choose a con
sistent path. And Sir Anthony was no
Solomon. He chose at last to carry
himself as If there was no danger,
as If the thing which happened were
unimportant. He ordered no change
and took no precautions. He shut his
ears to the whisperings which went
on among the servants and his eyes to
the watch which by some secret order
cf Baldwin was kept upon the Ridge
way.
It was something of a shock to him,
therefone.- when his* daughter came to
him- after breakfast riext morning look
ing pale and heavy, eyed, and breaking
through the respect which had hitherto
kept her silent begged him to go away.
"To go away?" he cried. He rose
from his oak chair and glared at her.
Then his feelings found their easiest
vent In anger. "What do you mean,
girl?" he blustered. "Go away? Go
where."
But she did not quail. Indeed she
had her suggestion ready.
"To the Mere farm In the forest,
sir." she answered earnestly. "They
wilt not look for you there, and Mar
tin says—"
"Martin? The fool!"
His face grew redder and redder.
This wns too much. He loved order
and discipline, and to be advised in
such matters by a woman and a fool!
It was Intolerable! "Go to. girl!" he
cried, fuming. "I wondered where you
had got. your tale so pat. So you and
the fool have been putting your heads
together? Go! Go and spin and leave
these matters to men' Do you think
that my brother, afler traveling the
world over, has not got a head on his
shoulders? Do you think, if there were
danger, he and I would not have fore
seen It?"
He waved his hand and turned away,
expecting her to go. but Petronilla did
not go. She had something else to say,
and though the task was painful she
was resolved to say It.
"Father, one word," she murmured.
"About my uncle."
"Well, well? What about him?"'
"I distrust him. sir," she ventured In
a low ton«s her color rising. "The ser
vants do not like- him. They fear him
and suspect of him I know not what."
"The servants!" Sir Anthony an
swered In an awful tone.
Indeed it was not the wisest thing
she could have said, but the conse
quences were averted by a sudden
alarm and shouting outside. Half a
dozen voices, shrill or threatening,
seemed to rise at once. The knight
strode to the window, but the noise
appeared to come, not from the Chase
upon which It looked, but from the
court yard or rear of the house. Sir
Anthony caught up his stick and fol
lowed by the girl, ran down the steps.
Ho pushed aside half a dozen women
who had likewise been attracted by the
noise and hastened through the nar
row passage which led to the wooden
bridge in the rear of the buildings.
Here, in the close on the far side of
the moat, a strange scene was passing.
A dozen horsemen were grouped in the
middle of the field about a couple of
prisoners, while around the gate by
which they had entered stood as many
men on foot, headed by Baldwin and
firmed with pikes and staves. These
seemed to be taunting the cavaliers and
daring them to comc on. On the wood
en bridge by which the knight stood
were half a dozen of tho servants, also
armed. Sir Anthony recognized 1r the
leading horseman Sir Philip Clopton.
and in tho prisoners Father Carey and
one of the woodmen, and In a moment
he comprehended what had happened.
The sheriff, in the most unneighborly
manner. Instead of challenging his front
door, had stolen up to the rear of the
house, and without saying with your
leave or by your leave had snapped up
the poor priest, who happened to be
wandering in that direction. Probably
he had intended to force an entrance,
but he had laid aside the plan when he.
saw his only retreat menaced by the
watchful Baldwin, who was not to be
caught napping. The knight took all
this in at a glance, and his gorge rose
if
r-
4
%,'M
1
JS
iW\L
mtsi
as much at the Clopton men's trick as
at the danger in which Father Car»v
stood. So ho lost his head and made
matters worse. "Who are these vil
lains," he cried in a rage, his face
aflame, "who come attacking men's
houses in time of peace? Begone or I
will have at ye!"
"Sir Anthony," Clopton cried, inter
rupting him, "in heaven's name, do not
carry the thing farther! Give, me wav
in the queen's name, and I will
What he would do was never known
for at that last word, away at the
house, behind Sir Anthony, there was
a puff of smolte, and down went the
sheriff headlong, horse and man, while
the report of an arquebus rang dully
round the building. The knight gazed,
horrified, but the damage was done
and could not be undone—nay, more
the Coton men took the sound for a
signal. With a shout, before Sir An
thony could Interfere, they made a
dash for the group of horsemen. The
latter, uncertain and hampered by the
rail of their leader, who was not hit
but was stunned beyond giving orders!
did the best they could. They let their
prisoners go with a curse, and then
raising Sir Philip and forming a rough
line, they charged toward the gate bv
which they had entered.
The footmen stood the brunt gallant
ly. and for a moment the sharp ringing
of quarter staves and the shivering of
steel told of as pretty a combat as ever
took place on level sward in full view
of an English home. The spectators
could see Baldwin doing wonders. Hts
men hacked him up bravely, but in the
end the Impetus of the horses told, the
footmen gave way and fled aside, and
the strangers passed them. A little
more skirmishing took place at the
gateway. Sir Anthony's men being deaf
to all his attempts to call them off, and
then the Clopton horse got clear, arid
shaking their fists and vowing ven
geance rode off toward the forest. They
left two of their men on the field, how
ever, one with a broken arm and one
with a shattered kneecap, while the
house party on their side, besides sun
dry knocks and bruises, could show
one deep sword cut, a broken wrist
and half a dozen nasty wounds.
"My poor little girl!" Sir Anthony
whispered to himself as ho gazed with
scared eyes at the prostrate men and
the dead horses and comprehended
what had happened. "This is a hang
ing business! In arms against the
queen! What am I to do?" And as
ho went back to the house in a kind of
stupor ho muttered again: "My little
girl! My poor little girl!"
I fancy that In this terrible crisis he
looked to get support and comfort from
Ills brother, that old campaigner who
had seen so many vicissitudes and
knew by heart so many shifts. But
Ferdinand, though he thought the event
unlucky, had little to say and less to
suggest and seemed indeed to have be
come on a sudden flaccid and luke
warm. Sir Anthony felt himself thrown
011 his own resources. "Who fired tho
shot?" he a3ked, looking about the
room In a dazed fashion. "It was
that which did the mischief," he con
tinued, forgetting his own hasty chal
lenge.
"1 think It must have been Martin
Luther," Ferdinand answered.
But Martin Luther, when he was ac
cused, denied this stoutly. He had
been so far along the Ridgeway, he
said, that, though he had returned at
once on hearing the shot flred, he had
arrived too late for the fight. The
fool's stomach for a fight was so well
known that this seemed probable
enough, and though some still sus
pected him the origin of the unfortu
nate signal was never clearly deter
mined, though in after days shrewd
guesses were made by some.
For a few hours it seemed as if Sir
Anthony had sunk into his former state
of indecision. But when Petronllla
cainc again to him soon after noon to
beg him to go into hiding she found
his mood had altered. "Go to the Mere
farm?" he said, not angrily now, but
firmly and quietly. "No, girl, I cannot.
I have been in fault, and I must stay
and pay for it. If I left these poor fel
lows to bear the brunt. I could never
hold up my head again. But do you go
now and tell B.eldwin to come to me."
She went and told the stern, down
looking steward, and he came up.
"Baldwin," said the knight when the
door was shut and the two were alone,
"you are to dismiss to their homes all
the tenants—who have indeed been
called out without my orders. Bid
them go and keep the peace, and I
hope they will not be molested. For
you and Father Carey, you must go
Into hiding. The Mere farm will be
best."
"And what of you. Sir Anthony?" the
steward asked, amazed at this act of
folly.
"I sliail remain here," the knight re
plied. with dignity.
"You will be taken," said Baldwin,
after a pause.
"Very well," said the knight.
The man shrugged his shoulders and
was silent.
"What do you mean?" asked Sir An
thony in anger.
"Why, just that I cannot do it,"
Baldwin answered, glowering at him,
with a flush on his dark cheek. "That
is what I mean. Let the priest go. I
cannot go and will not."
"Then you will be hanged!" quoth
the knight warmly. "You have been
in arms against the queen, you fool!
You will be hanged as sure as you
stay here!"
(.Continued Next Week.)
Ate $30 Worth of Peaches.
From the Chicago Evening Post.
The late William C. Whitney wanted
to do samething out of the ordinary
when he gave his first cabinet dinner aa
a member of President Cleveland's cab
inet. He scoured the markets of Wash
ington for delicacies. For fruit, he de
cided he would have peaches.
It was in the middle of February, and
there were no peaches in Washington.
He found a man in New York who said
he could get some, and Whitney ordered
several baskets.
The dinner was a great success. In
discussing it next day Judge Lamar
said:
"Thoee peaches were fine, Mr. Whit
ney. Where did you get them?"
"In New York." Mr. Whitney said.
"A man there found them for me."
"Peaches in February are certainly a
great treat." continued Lamar. "If It
is a fair question, how much did they
cost?"
"They cost JS a dozen," said Whit
ney.
"And did President Cleveland eat any
of them? He is so found of fruit."
"Did he eat any of them?" exploded
Whitney, -sgj thought he rather crowd
ed the mourners. IU- ate Ave!"
Uoder Fire.
A calvary onr^er who had by no
means distinguished himself In the
South Afrit*n war kvtired from the ser
vice and built himself a villa in a re
mote spot, on the coast of Devonshire.
He was showing it to a friend one day.
and remarked:
I "The one difficulty I have Is about a
name for the house. 1 should like to
lilt upon something suitable-something
appropriate *.0 my military career you
know."
"I see." replied his friend "then why
call it The Retreat••
not
Of known iron ore the south has
more tlisn all the known ore supply
of the. rest or the country. In this It
has the foundation for duplicating all
the iron and steel industry ot tha
United States.
,-LiAd
jggilil
THE NECESSITY OF
CROP ROTATION
•"V"
Only Means by Which Large
Yields of Wheat May Be
Obtained in Old Soils.
From "Tha Future Wheat Supply of the
1'nited States" In September Century.
Wheat farmlut In a majority of the
wh'-at-produolng region* of the United
States Is still carrlad on in a slothful and
careless manner. It Is tho type of agri­|Conn.,
culture that Is followed by tha farmer
with the least ability and business capac
ity. His knowledge of agriculture Is us
ually less than that of any other class of
farmers, excepting perhaps the tenant
farmers of the South and so long as na
ture's bounty, in tho form of soil fertil
ity, lasts,' ha prospers. Then when tha
soil loses Its readily available fertility,
when noxious weeds choke tha grain, and
insoct pests are rampant, tho common
proceeding of the wheat farmer is to move
westward, and begirt tha process of soil
robbery anew.
Land that has been cropped with wheat
tor many years is not necessarily Infer
tile and permanently unproductive be
cause of such cropping. Continuous wheat
)ulture quickly reduces the suply of or-*
fanlo matter In the soil, and therefore ln
Uires Its mellowness and water-holding ca
pacity, properties which a'.'e essential In
jrain-growing soli. The most available
elements of mineral plant food are also'
rapidly-exhausted'by wheat, and the crop
having also exhausted tha organic matter
the soil, tha conditions essential to soil
Aecay are Impaired, and the production!
of new supplies of mineral plant food in
the soil is checked. Soils that have been
brought to this condition may he reno
vated and, made extremely productive
again by intelligent schemes of crop ro
tation, use oC live stock and soil tillage.
It Is to be hoped that the present wheat
lands of the United States can be util
ized for wheat production for many gen
erations to come but this can be done
only by making wheat alternate with oth
er field crops In the schema of cropping.
Instead of growing the crop continuously
until the land must undergo a period of
renovation before it. Is again productive.
If systems of agriculture could be insti
tuted on all tho soils of the United States
In which, the grain, grass arid, cultivated
crops were alternated the fertility of our
soils could be indefinitely maintained. As
agriculture is now practiced, however, one
region produces a large acreage of onu
crop to which It in peculiarly lltted a»
the present time, and some other region
another crop. Thus in many regions fer
tility is not conserved, but rapidly ex
hausted. and the Intensive systems of ag
riculture which prevail the eastern part
of the United States build up the eastern
soils at the expense of the fertility of tha
VV est.
Sioux Falls Is Getting Tired of the
Divorce Business.
In the September American Magazine
George Fitch writes about the divorce
colony of Sioux Falls, S. D. The article
is amusing, and yet very informing. Fol
lowing Is Mr. Fitch's account of a change
of heart In Sioux-Falls about the matter:
"As a matter of fact, Sioux Falls is get
ting pretty tired of the divorce business
anyway. There was a time when it was
the pride of the city, and practically tho
only money seen in that wind swept sec
tion was brought there by divorsays with
freckled pasts and spangled futures. They
were welcome then. They made things
howl, and Sioux Fails, being glad of the
noise, wasn't particular about the "tune.
But the city has grown up In the past
few years. There are other buildings now,
taller than the Cataract hotel. There are
citizens richer than the divorsays, who
have automobiles of their own and who
spend money which isn't so odorous.
There are other ways of getting rich and
other sights more Instructive than
naughty fragments of busted families.
The dtvoesay la still a sight and a diver
sion, but he Is also a nuisance. Strangers
Insist upon finding out all about him In
stead of learning the more permanent re
sources of the great northland. Embar
rassing mistakes are made and disagree
able Jokes are related with gusto by care
less visitors. It is irritating to the Sioux
Falls promoter who wants to tell his cus
tomer all about the new million-dollar
packing house, the great water power and
the inexhaustible quarries of pink granite
from which all Sioux Falls is built, to
have to stop and explain that the nice
looking young woman across the street
is not a divorsay from the east but his
own daughter, and that he himself has
never been divorced. No, sir. Not once!
These things fill Sioux Falls with tho
same kind of humiliation that the rich
man feels when some one alludes to the
beautiful pawnshop sign which was onca
his pride before he graduated Into bank
ing."
Pitiful State of Things at New Orleans.
From the Milwaukee Evening Wisconsin.
The haughty Caucasian race can not
get much glory out of what occurred at
New Orleans last night.
1 The evening had been fixed up by
colored people of the city for a spelling
match in honor of Marie Bolden, thq
colored girl who won the spelling con
test held at Cleveland In connection
with the convention of the National
Educational association—a competition
open to pupils from public schools in
any part of the United States.
Marie had fairly won distinction by
spelling down the champions of Cleve
land and Pittsburg at the national
tournament. Not only that, but shfl
reflected credit upon New Orleans. Yet
when news of last evening's Innocent
gathering got abroad, there were mut
terlngs In the streets of the city which
reached tho ears of the mayor, who
withheld a permit for the affair, on tha
ground that it might prove an incen
tive to a race riot with consequences
dreadful to New Orleans.
So New Orleans avoided disorder, but
poor little Marie Bolden missed the
honor that was to have been paid her.
Certainly New Orleans cannot boast
very highly of the sense of Justice
which dwells in tho breasts of its white
inhabitants.
Leaves From a Broker's Diary.
From the Goldfleld Gossip.
Nov. 1—Looked up bank account to
day. Find I'm J800 overdrawn. Bank
reported in a bad.v way. Sorry.
Nov. 2—Man called at office with bill.
Asked for payment. Had him arrested
for dangerous lunatic.
I Nov. 3—Customer came in to buy
some stork office force fainted.
Nov. 4—Funny man propounded
querry: "Would you rather have a gold
piece without a motto, or a motto with
out a gold piece" Kicked him for
luck.
Nov. 5—Borrowed $L\ Credit still
good.
Nov. 6—Borrowed 50 cents. Gloomy
days.
Nov. 7—Borrowed a dime. T'hell
with It.
Nov. 8—Stopped eating.
Nov. 9—To the Salvation army. Hal
iclujah.
Oh! The Women!
Mrs. West—My cousin is on speaking
terms with the best people in the cltv.
Mrs. East—Indeed! Is she a waitress
or a 'elephone operator.
HOME OF FAVORITE
AMERICAN HUMORIST
Mark Twain's House at Red
ding, Conn., Large Enough
for Small Hotel.
From Putnam's and the Reader for Au
I gust.
I had tho pleasure of seeing Mark
Twain's country house at Redding.
few weeks ago. "Innocence
Ut Home," he calls it, was not quitei
finished, though in the main part ofl
i]the building the paper was 011 the
(walls and the water was running In the
{pipes. There was, however, only one
piece of furniture in the house ancl
Ithat was the billiard table. Every one
who knows Mr. Clements knows that
ihe has two Ingrained habits—smoking
and billiard playing. Some of his
'friends think that he smokes to ex
cess, but, as he has pointed cut to them
lie never smokes more than one cigar
at a time. The Redding house Is very
attractive. It is large—almost largo
Enough for a small hotel—and it over
looks a lovely wooded valley. It might
have been placed further up the hill
to advantage, for now, while It gets
the sunrise, a hill In front of th«)
house cuts off the sunset view, and also
the summer breezes from the south and
west. The dining room—the most Im
posing room in the house—opens out
through French windows upon a tiled
terrace which, in turn, gives upon the
wooded hills and a pergola running
down to a large summer house. Almosl
every bedroom has Its own bathroom,
and, to add the last touch of comfort,
the house will bo lighted with acety
lene. At one end of the house is tho
billiard room which may be used as a
breakwater to hold back strangers oi
business callers. There Is 110 formal
drawing room. Mr. Clemens will havu
tin ideal home, but it is miles from a
lemon and up a very difficult road.
Perhaps his place will be "self con
tained" and have Its own mechanics
otherwise he will have hard time if
a water pipe bursts, with tho nearest
plumber 10 miles away.
Since this paragraph was put into
type Mr. Clemens has moved into his
new home, which (true to his word)
he did not see until it was ready for
occupancy, and the cat purring 011 the
hearth. He is, I am delighted to say.
delighted with it.
How New York Taxes.
From tho Minneapolis Journal.
The New York practice is to assess
all land on an equal basis, whether im
proved or not. Then the buildings are
valued and assessed separately. It
makes no difference to the state, under
this view of things, whether an owner
is getting an income from his property
or not. If he is not, it Is probably be
cause lie expects values to rise—In oth
er words, he holds the property for
speculative reasons. The tendency,
when every property owner has to pay
taxes on an equal basis for his land, is
to Improve it quickly. In other words,
the New- York system tends toward an
upbuilding of the city as rapidly as
the-demand from renters will permit.
Naturally, also, this tends toward
keeping rents down to a normal basis.
The full valuation system now used
in New York raises a number of ques
tions. One of the most serious objec
tions is that with the full assess
ment. rolls it produces, there is
a temptation on the part of the tax
spenders to be extravagant. The bond
limitations, set. by charter, constitution
or legislature, are enlarged, and oppor
tunities for adventure with tha public
funds are increased.
On the other hand, the great, ad
vantage of assessing property at its
full market value is that it equalize^
the poor man. the middle class mani
and the rich man. It is in the margin
which lies between percentage assess
ment and full assessment that the rich
tax dodger finds his opportunity for
shirking his share of the burden. It is
easier for the man with much property
to undervalue and conceal It. than for
the ordinary citizen, whose modest
home is of known value and whose be
longings are easily appraised.
Germ of a Bad Cold.
From the Chicago Tribune.
One of the most difficult germs to Iden
tify la that of the only too familiar com
plaint known as the bad cold—the cold
which affects most particularly the throat
and nasal passages, and which signifies
an uncomfortable sickness, all the more
exasperating because It Is given so little
sympathy. As a matter of fact, several
different kinds of microbes are concerned
In the production of this special malady
half a dozen of which are being fed on
bottle food at the "Washington laboratory
—and nobody has yet been able to find out
which one of the lot is chiefly guilty.
Living under such artificial condition'
as we do—we are all of us Jlke hothouse
plants—a slight chill produces a conges
tion In the membraneous lining of the
breathing passages, and as a result a lo
cal congestion follows. At once the hos
tile microbes—always present in numbers
in the nose and throat—get busy, feeding
upon the tissues, and trouble follows. Not
only do they create a good deal of locai
Irritation, but incidentally they excrete
poisonous products, which find their way
Into the blood and are carried in Its
stream to all parts of the body, causing
that general feeling of lassitude and dis
comfort which is characteristic of such a
cold.
Maybo the new "vaccine" treatment
may prove to bo of value as a preventive
ot grip the next time a serious epidemic
of that malady sweeps the country. Its
germ Is already Identified, and, as a mat
ter of course. Is kept In stock at tho
factory In Washington. One of the small
est of disease producing microbes, it Is
also one of the most difficult to grow, re
quiring either human blood or pigeon's
blood as food. It is a bacillus or rod
shaped organism, and, as now known, it
produces quite a variety of complaints,
according to the part ot the body in
which it finds lodgment. In the throat
and lungs it starts up one kind of com
plaint, In the intestines another, and in
the nervous system another, and it oven
attacks the membrane that cowrs tha
brain sometimes, inducing a kind of men
engitls.
Kitchener's Sarcasm.
I A new story of Lord Kitchener, which
can be vouched for, comes to hand. Ho
was dining in the mess of a certain reg
iment a short time ago when the talk
turned 011 autographs. Presently one of
the younger officers present ventured to
ask him to sign his on his handkerchief.
Kitchener willingly assented, and a
dainty piece of lace and cambric war
passed up to him. Kitchener looked at
it for a moment and then said with a
laugh.
"Hello! Whose might this be—vour
I sister's I suppose, ell?"
"Oh," replied the officer, "that Is mine
I assure you 1 have rather good taste
In handkerchiefs, you know."
"Have you," snorted "K. of K." in
contempt as he flung the handkerchief
back unsigned, "and what is your taste
in hair pins like, may I ask?"
In Paris last year 49,298 horses were
(tilled for food, which was 5.000 mora
than the previous year. These ani
mals yielded 26,600,000 pounds of meat
mmmmmrnrnrnm
MAN'S PHYSICAL
No Physiological Reason Why
He Should Die—Body
Self-Renewing.
From Health
'•'riii- lust enemy that shall be destroyed
Is death." say the scriptures, yet if some
man attempted seriously to reassert tills
ancient truth today we would look upon
him as a inad prophet indeed. Yet the
time will come when men will be able
believe this promise of the bible, although
they may never be able to hope to eee it
literally fulfilled.
Death some day will be acknowledged
to be as unnatural in the economy of th»
creative plan as are sin and suffering. But
whether or not in some millennium period,
mortal man will be able to forego the
[gross process of physical dissolution in be
coming a spiritual body Is a purely meta
physical question that does not enter here.
What does interest us is the question, oc
cupying the greatest scientific minds to
day, whether the body as such cannot be
retained In perfect condition indefinitely.
William A. Hammond, one of the great
•authorities in medical science and form
erly surgeon general in the United States
•army, answers it by saying: "There is no
•physiological reason why man should
die."
Thomas J. Allen, M. A. LI.. D., writing
in a similar strain, says: "The human
body is not like a machine which must
wear out by constant disintegration, for
It is self-renewing. It is a simple, scien
tific fact that we get an entirely new body
every few years, estimated at from three'
to seven. Every day Is a birthday, for the.
process of waste and renewal never
ceases. I-Vrfect bala.nce between elimina
tion and renewal would avoid permanent'
waste."
There is no doubt that when we be
come mure enlightened and understand*
perfectly the laws that govern and de
termine our physical lives, and when we,
conform ourselves to these religiously lite
will be immeasurably prolonged.
The decay of the body, as evidenced in
old age, is unnatural. The aesthetic with
in us recoils in merely contemplating its
approach. We feel that there must be
something self-perpetratlve In the change
when the strong color in a healthy man
and the fresh beauty in a pure woman
take their departure, when the bloom on
the cheeks fades, when tlie brilliant light'
within the eyes grows dim and the full,
red lips become pale and fallen.
Medical science has pointed out the
physiological cause of these conditions.
Probably the lime will come when it will
be able to point out the manner of avoid
ing them.
We know that tlie body growf old be
cause of the existence of an imperfect
lAlauce between the. waste which the
body accumulates and the amount it Is,
able to throw off. During youth the bal
ance is perfect, because the body has
more than Its normal vitality and strength!
to throw off the waste natter. But as
we grow older this perfect balance be-i
comes destroyed from one cause or an
other.
The strength that should go to eliminat
ing impurities from the body is not hus
banded but rather squandered in different'
ways. Then too we cat and drink those
things that cause excessive waste. Am
impure diet composed of foods containing
uric acid, such as meat, or of drinks con
taining poisons, such as tea and coffee,,
taxes the eliminatlve powers, and when
the time comes when these give way a
state of imperfect elimination has set in,
the wastes in part are deposited in the
system, settling in the arteries and Joints
of the body and accumulating until they
become obstructive elements.
The blood stream circulates imperfectly,
and when once this condition exists bad
functioning of every organ of the body
results and old age and death gradually
ensue.
Mind too has a great deal to do in hast
ening or retarding the unpleasant signs
of physical decay. Mental science has
satisfactorily demonstrated that mean,
narrow, selfish and unpleasant thoughts
act destructively
011
the tissues of the
body, while thought* of wholesome and
positive character act constructively.
And when the curtains of "the windows
of the soul" are drawn, when the temple's
door is closed and a final silence is with
in, when the spirit passes the threshold
to take up a newer and finer edifice of its
own creation, science assures us that tho
body lives on. Here at least physical im
mortality is an assured fact.
Theology has irreligiously taught us
that the body returns to inanimate dust.
The religious answer of science is that it
returns to God. The latest word in the
field of biology is that all nature, includ
ing the all mother soil, is animated and
hallowed with the divine principle of life.
More than this, matter is indestruciblo
and eternal. There is not an atom that
can be lost In all the universe. For this
reason our bodies do not really die thev
are in the care of the angels ot the ele
ments.
The peculiar cellular arrangement that
formed them into a beautiful body may
be caused to disintegrate through the ac
tion of the oxygen upon it, time may
change the position of the atoms compos
ing it, but the latter still contain within
themselves the sacred and eternal princi
ple of life as much as does the soul, and
they exist only to enter into new' and
perhaps more beautiful combinations of
life.
Eplctetus. representing the ancient at
titude of religion toward the body, could
give it no higher classification than that of
"mud." Luther, representing the theo
logy of his oWn day. spoke of the body
as a "mess of worms." Let us hope that
In this day. wherein science is educating
theology in holiness, the serviceable body,
without which soul could not be, will re
ceive a higher and more fitting tribute
than that which Luther and Epictetu*
gave to it.
Disastrous Crops.
"No more big cherry crops for me," said
the man with the long chin whiskers so
arranging his feet that they would help
him occupy two seats in the smoker
"Talk about the cropa in that particular
line of fruit being light this year! It's all
bosh! Had the biggest crop of biggest
cherries I ever had, but before next sea
son I'm going to cut down all my trees
Too much of a good thing. Cost more
than they're worth. I let my chickens
run loose in my orchard. Course tliey
ran around under the cherry trees. Picked
a few green cherries up off the ground.
Li\ ed high on them. When the cherries
got ripe a lit 10 wind would blow the
cherries off the trees. Chickens would be
standing under the trees. Cherries got
so big that when they fell and often struck
a chicken that fowl's life went out right
there. Every uherry that fell seemed u»
kill a chicken. When the cherry crop was
all gone 1 took the count. Found that I
had 200 bushels of cherries but everyone
ot my 400 chickens had been killed by the
falling of those big cherries. That was
a.11 expensive cherry crop. Had plenty
of spring chicken. Too much In fact
Then my plums are as big as Right
here the man who had been listening ex
plained that he had business in the buffet
car.
The smallest quadruped In the world
.s the pigmy mouse ot Siberia