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The Denison review. [volume] (Denison, Iowa) 1867-current, June 22, 1904, Image 12

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The Denison Review
E. F. TUCKER, Publisher.
WEDNESDAY, JUNE 8, 1904.
YESTERDAYS.
A ghostly company they fade away
Into the voiceless dark, and come no
more.
Bearing rich trophies of our human play
To cast them down upon a foreign
shore.
Not long we watch them, for -we face the
new
To-morrows beckon, radiant with de
li ght,
E'en at the parting we scarce say adieu,
The future charms us with its wondrous
might.
And yet these yesterdays are all we own
Save this brief hour filled up with lovo
and thought
For they are days each yearning soul has
sown,
From which time's coming harvests
shall be wrought.
We strain our eyes to catch a gleam of
light,
But Jo! their lamps burn baleful in the
gloom
We cannot read the fleeting message
right,
And only hear their mutterings of
doom.
Bomehow they seem to jeer and mock us
here,
As slow they march into the void of
things,
And seem to say: "For every smile a
tear—
Behold to us what joy and sorrow
clings!"
They take the choicest blessings from our
hands,
They take our youth, our strength, our
high resolve,
And leave us but increasing soul de
mands,
New duties that our tired lives evolve.
But ah, they take our trials, troubles,
fears—
Impartial servants of unfeeling fate—
They take at last the memory and tears.
And we have but to look ahead and
wait.
Grim yesterday's, that ghostly file away
Into the past and come to us no more,
Their hands are filled with ashes and de
cay
Their destiny soma long deserted shore!
Xfe would not bring them back to fret the
earth
With all their store of certain toil and
tears.
Behold! for each a new day has its birth'
And we shall fill it with abundant
cheers.
"The king is dead!
we cry.
To-morrow shall be ours for evermore
Go ye your way! lo! all the days shall
die—
Long live the king!'
While we. shall own a still unending
store.
•-Charles W. Stevenson, in Springfield
(Mass.) Republican.
THE PAINTER $
AND THE SIGN.
BY KOBERT C. McELBAVT.
SHE
noticed him the first day he
came I noticed them both. I
make no particular apology for the
confession, and in fact am now so hard
ened that I take particular pleasure
the recollection. At first I had the
-same moral right to watch the young
painter at his work that she had, or
any other roomer in the block, for that
matter. After the affair became in
volved, -which it did so gradually that
at first I scarcely recognized the in
roads of Cupid, I acknowledge that
for a time conscientious qualms min
gled frequently with the pleasure I
experienced in overhearing their re
marks, but after a day or two the de
lights of eavesdropping swept all my
compunctions to the winds.
First the carpenters put the sign
board up. She and I could hear the
tooise of the operation early in the
morning, and reached our windows
simultaneously. We watched them a
little while, mentally debating, or at
least I was, as to the probable length
of time the hammering would continue.
Turning, she seemed a bit confused to
see me leaning out at the next window.
I thanked heaven that I was old and
white-haired and decrepit otherwise
I am sure she would have drawn back
hastily into her room. As it was, I
spoke to her and she smiled. Our won
derment as to the work going on below
took words, and we discussed the mat
ter thoroughly. The immense sign
board reached from the ground up to
our windows, which were on the sec
ond floor, and when the job was com
pleted we understood only too plainly
that the mercenary disposition of our
landlord was about to wreck the ap
pearance of our lodging-house. For
myself, I was in no position to allow
trifles like sign-boards, loaded down
with glaring advertisements, to coerce
me into changing my quarters. An
old man with a scant income, and be
yond the power of increasing it, is not
apt lo be squeamish about his living
quarters.
The girl, however, in a pretty, pout
ing way, was greatly displeased with
the commercial acquisition, albeit, I
am afraid, with a compulsory forti
tude equal to my own. Young girls
•who sew for a living can scarcely af
ford to be too particular either.
But about the painter. He put in
appearance about the third day, after
the board had received, a coat of white
paint at the hands of two young fel
lows, who conversed loudly and chewed
an immense amount of plug tobacco.
The painter. I can scarcely call him an
artist, although some of his brushe3
were quite fine, made a favorable* Im
pression with us from the first. After
the preliminary racket caused by the
rigging and adjustment of his swing,
the work took on a comparative quiet
n.
its execution, and he
Esoved-about
s.treeu. fascinating deftness that it was
of La'sasure to witness.
"... un£t\ere la to be more
The%.
crapto^
£&&£*££&
noisje below us, at any rate," said the
girl to me as the young man began
his measurements, following each with
the slurring sound of a soft pencil.
"Yes, it will indeed be a relief," I
replied, mentally remarking on the
fondness I have always felt for the bru
nette type of beauty.
The painter raised his head, having
overheard the remarks, and there was
a little smile of appreciation on his
clear-cut lips.
"The carpenters marde it disagreeable
for you, did they?" There was a quiet
reserve in his manner that convinced
me immediately that he was a gentle
man. Otherwise I should not have en
couraged him to continue, on the girl's
account, though I was burning with an
old man's curiosity to know what kind
of a sign it was to be.
I looked at the girl, and thanked
heaven that he was a gentleman, for
I saw in her face the dawn of a
healthy interest in the proposed adver
tisement. I did not at the time imagine
for a moment that the interest ex
tended to the painter, and still do not
think so, though I realize only too well
that I am old and that love moves with
unrelenting swiftness in these days. At
least she was a well-bred miss and
not flirtatiously inclined.
"Yes, the carpenters were a noisy
lot," I admitted, after mature reflec
tion. Then I launched out to satisfy
niy—perhaps I should say our—crav
ing for knowledge. "What is the sign
to be?" I queried, endeavoring to sup
press any suspicion of rudeness in my
tone. The question had the double ef
fect of securing the somewhat unin
teresting information, and of letting
the painter forever into our good
graces. You see I have adopted the
plural now without excuse, and the
girl's wide-eyed interest and seeming
dependence on my good judgment was
beginning to justify it
"A cigar sign," he announced pleas
antly, pausing in his preparations and
glancing upward, as if to see how the
intelligence was received. I flatter my
self that I have now reached an age
when 1 can assume a stoical cast of
countenaace under stress of deep and
lasting disappointment. It was not so
with the girl, however. Her face not
only gave evidence of displeasure, but
she voiced the feeling in words. The
words were:
"How perfectly horrid!"
"But this is not going to be a horrid
sign," he said. "It's going to be hand
some and attractive." Here's young
American assurance, I thought.
"I am commissioned by the manu
factures of the Dorothy cigar," he
continued, "to illumine this sign with
the head of a charming woman. She
must be beautiful and alluring in the
extreme. If I succeed my future is
assured, and my fortune also."
"And do you feel certain that you
will be able to paint such a face?"
asked she.
He looked at her intently for a mo
ment. "I was' somewhat doubtful of
it when I took the contract," he said,
but am beginning to feel that possibly
I may be able to accomplish something
that will help to sell the Dorothy
cigar."
That ended our first conversation.
Of course We could not see the work he
was doing, as the sign-board was im
mediately below us and against the
building. I was, moreover, unable to
go down stairs that evening, being con
fined to my room by a painful attack
of rheumatism, although I was haunted
by a strange suspicion, and was more
than anxious to have a glance at the
rough outline on the sign-board. Nor
was I able to" move about much the
following day."
The painter arrived bright and early,
and I was awakened by a combination
of harmonious melody, which emanated
from a masculine whistle below and
a girl's voice from the next room. The
three of us exchanged salutations and
discussed weather conditions without
variance. Presently I found intent
watching from the window more pain
ful than pleasant, and sank back from
sight into my rocker. Then it was I
became an unwitting, and at first un
willing eavesdropper. The first re
mark that reached my ear was the fol
lowing from the girl:
"Is this beautiful woman you are
painting to be a blonde or a—bru
nette?" She hesitated slightly on the
last word.
"Which do you consider advisable?"
The slap of his brush had ceased, and
I knew he was losing valuable time.
I could also guess that his eyes were
elsewhere than on his work.
"Why a blonde, of course. Every
body thinks blondes are more attract
ive than brunettes." The girl spoke
in a manner that brought to my mind
a number of impressions, chief among
them being that, she did not mean
what she said. Realizing that she was
probably conscious, or should be, of her
own dark beauty, I could not bring
myself to censure her.
"A blonde it will be, then," was his
quick reply.
"But you have such a dark supply
of paint. How will you be able to paint
a blonde with that?"
He did not answer for a moment.
Then he said: "Well, it's all in the
mixing, you know." I hoped he was
blushing with shame. If not, I was
for him.
"Is this—this girl, to be your ideal?"
They were becoming acquainted re
markably fast, and I began to feel that
my life was lapping over into a new
and strangely rapid generation.
"I hope I can bring the picture up to
my ideal," he finally answered.
My rheumatism was still aggravat
ing me greatly that evening, but I
made a groaning descent to the ground
floor and out onto the opposite side
of the street. Then I turned and be
held for the fiist time the gigantic
cigar sign. The picture was still a
mere outline, but It told me that my1
suspicions had been correct, I have
aaidthat the painter bad courage, This
•|f)IN
FIFI
giif^liiili-• ^1^fiHitlIIMIIIJ'I
was positive daring! And I also formed
a poor opinion of his ability to mix
dark paints into a blonde preparation.
The hair was dark as night!
The next day I felt better. I was
able to have leaned out of my window
indefinitely, but fifteen minutes suf
ficed. My old-fashioned conscience
was becoming a deliberate failure.
"What are you working on now?"
she asked.
"I am finishing up the right eye,"
responded the painter.
That explained their low tones. The
right eye was directly under her win
dow, and for that reason I had difficul
ty in hearing.
"She has blue eves, of course, being
a blonde," was the next observation
from the girl.
"Of course," he returned. I cowered
like a guilty wretch in my chair. I
felt it almost a duty to correct him,
but discovered that I was calling my
self an "old fogy" and "back number."
Deceitful silence was a happy recourse.
Several days followed, more rapidly
for me than the time was wont to pass.
I wondered vaguely at times if sewing
was remunerative, and if making up
for lost time by lamplight was not a
trifle hard on the eyes^ Also whether
painting signs had to be done witti
any great dispatch in order to be profit
able, and just how much time should
really be taken to paint a large cigar
sign like the one below our window.
Then I began to hope that time was no
particular object in sign-painting and
that gaslight was not hard on the
eyes.
"I will be through to-night," he
said, on the morning of the tenth day.
"Then I will be able to see the pic
ture to-night," she said, not gaily, but
with a half note of sorrow. She had
rigidly refrained from viewing the sign
until it was completed.
He painted silently for a time.
"You seem very much in love with
your work," she said finally.
"Yes," he replied quietly, though the
words reached me clearly. "You are
right, I am very much In love with
my work."
That night he came for her, and
they crossed the street together in the
gathering dusk to look at the picture.
I found myself quivering with excite
ment, and wondered if my old. ears
would serve me at that distance. At
least I could depend upon my eyes to
a certain extent. I both saw and heard
something of what occurred. They
stood closely together, and as the girl
turned I heard a sharp exclamation of
surprise. I could detect no anger,
though I was listening intently for it
He began talking rapidly and vehe
mently. I knew intuitively what he
was saying, and almost prayed that he
would be successful. After a short
time the two forms melted together,
and I could see his arms steal about
her. I fell on my knees and the tears
rained down my cheeks.
"We. must tell Uncle Ben," I heard
her say presently.
"The first thing, to be sure."
They were upon the steps in a mo
ment, and it was a guilty old, rheu
matic wretch they found simulating
surprise on theii^-arrival.
I have saved and reread a hundred
times the clippings from the daily pa
pers which told of the sudden rise to
prominence of a young "ad" painter
in the city, and the crowds which
gather every day to look upon the pic
ture of the young American girl on the
Dorothy cigar sign little imagine the
secret in the heart of the old man in
the window' above.—National Maga-
A WOMAN ROBINSON CRUSOE.
Romance and Hnrdwliip of a French
Girl Exile on a Lone
Inland.
Off the coast of Newfoundland lies
a small island known as the Isle of
Demons, which holds within its rocky
shores a romance as thrilling and a
tragedy as real as any told in fiction,
says Youth's Companion. About 1540
Marguerite de Roberval, niece of the
French viceroy, fell in love with a
young cavalier and promised him her
heart and hand. Her uncle, the vice
roy, considered the youth unworthy of
his niece's proud position, and angered
by her refusal to give up her lover, ho
passed a sentence of exile upon both
of them. A vessel carried the couple
to the Isle of Demons, leaving them
there alone, with an old nurse who at
tended the lady Mauguerite from her
childhood, and who wished to share
her exile.
At first the banishment did not seem
so dreadful a thing the young man's
strength stood between his wife and
suffering, and for two years all went
well. A child was born, and the par
ents began to plan for the establish
ment of a colony which might thrive
in this island home. Then came trou
ble, swift and terrible.
Disease smote the little family, and
the young wife and mother saw her
husband, child and faithful nurse all
sicken and die. With her own hands
she dug their graves and burled all
that was dear to her and then began
a life alone, a life in which the mere
question of existence became a prob
lem hard indeed for a frail woman to
solve. By means of the gun that had
been her husband's, she kept herself
provided with food and with skins for
her clothing.
For two years she lived a Robinson
Cnisoe life, this gently nurtured,
highly bred girl.
At last she was rescued by some
fishermen who ventured on the island,
half-frightened at first by what they
thought was an evil apparition.
Marguerite was sent to France, but
her uncle discovered her whereabouts
and continued to persecute her. She
finally found a refuge in a small French
village, where she hid until the vice
roy's death. After that she came into
the world once more and lived to a
good old age.
S ^•'^Wwiii^I »JSSB3B2EE
5
Sapley—Politics is a tewwible thing,
old chappie. Just because Willie Many
pants is wunning for office they're be
ginning to tell howwible stories' about
his early career.
Askins—Shocking!
Sapley—Yaas, they whisper that he
once wore a turn-down collar with a
dwess suit!—Chicago Daily News.
Fa's Snore.
My pa's got somepin' in his nose that's
fassened there to stay,
That all the neighbors wishes he would lose
or give away.
Some sort o' bellerin' affair, like bulls has
in their throats,
Or like a big bass horn, except it never
plays no notes.
—Chicago Journal.
ARMLESS WONDER.
Miss Pert—Don't you know you re
mind me of the Venus de Milo?
Mr. Slowboy—But she didn't have
any arms.
Miss Pert—I know.—Chicago Chron
icle.
A Fine Distinction.
"I didn't think you would write an
anonymous letter!"
"I didn't," was the indignant reply.
"But you }jdn't sign, your name
to it."
"No. But I signed the name of one
of the neighbors."—Washington Star.
How They Do It.
-i
Th« sewing circle weekly meets
The savages to gown,
And while they dress the heathen up
They dress their neighbors down.
—Puck.
WANTED TO KNOW WHY.
Sponger—Excuse my glove, Mr.
Moneybags.
Moneybags—If you're so ashamed of
them as all that, why do you wear
them?—Ally Sloper.
In a Quandary.
Flora—I wish I knew whether I ought
to feel grateful to Mr. Gaboy or to be
angry with him.
Irene—Why?
Flora—He told me yesterday he didn't
know which he most admired—my
sparkling eye or my blooming cheek.—
Tit-Bits.
Would Not Do.
Husband—If you arc not going to
us« that gown, why don't you give it
to the cook?
Wife—Oh, new It's out of style.—
Brooklyn Lifp,'
i.UiMHWKSffi
DULL BtURMURINGS. Wonderful Intuition.
"I flatter myself," said the city
chap, "that I can tell what a man is
by his walk. Now, this dfgnified
looking individual coming down the
street is undoubtedly a leader of
men."
"That's right," rejoined the village
landlord. "He's the drum major of
our brass band." Cincinnati En
quirer
1
The Wise Man Talks.
Fiui. Burem—Yes, my dear madam,
the baneful habit of sweets and to
bacco is gradually affecting and ren
dering smaller the teeth of the com
ing generations. More than this—in
the course of reactionary evolution, if
I may so term it, we shall undoubted
ly have children born without teeth at
all—Tit-Bits.
PROFESSIONAL COURTESY.
"After I told my best story to-night,"
says the monologist, "a lady in one
of the boxes threw this magnificent
bouquet to me."
"What kind of flowers are they?
.Immortelles?" asked the soubrette.—
Chicago Tribune.
If You Are Pinched.
When you go out to paint the town
A bright Vermillion hue
It may seem copper colored
Before the job is through.
—Springfield (111.) Journal.
1
Not the Same.
"Haven't I seen you at this bar be
fore?" said the judge, sternly, frowning
over his glasses.
"Not at this bar, judge," said the pris
oner, with a smile peculiar to a bar
tender.—Yonlcers Statesman.
PITY THE POOR FELLOW.
"Did you sound papa this afternoon
about our marriage?"
"Yes and when I struck the bottom
step it sounded pretty loud, too."—•
Chicago Chronicle.
Silenced Again.
"Have a care, madam," said Mr.Meelc
er, summoning up a little spunk. "The
worm will turn!"
"Did you ever know the worm to hurt
anybody when it turned?" calmlv asHed
his wife.—Chicago Tribune.
Willing to Oblige.
Geraldine Why do you always
throw kisses to me when you go by
the house?
Gorald—I'll bring them to you, if
you'd rath6i- I would.—Brooklyn Life.
An Appropriate Name.
"Why do you call your horse 'Fa
vor?'" jiske'l the inquisitive party.
"Because," explained the owner, "he
requires so much currying."—Cincin
nati Enquirer.
He Has It Removed.
"They say," remarked the Ludlow
youth, "that a wise man never stum
bles over the same stone twice."
"That's right," rejoined the Cum
minsville sage. "When he passes that
way again it isn't there."—Cincinnati
Enquirer.
Of No Importance.
"And were you ever engaged before,
dearest?" he asked.
"Oh, never in earnest," she replied.
"Only occasionally, you lmow, at tkf
summer resorts and winter resarts."—
Chicago Post
14-.v.fci
COWARDLY TURKISH TROOPS
Many Instances of Lack of Nerve in
Their Encounters with Al
banian Insurgents,
It is said that the Turkish soldiery is
becoming demoralized to the point where
displays of cowardice are common.
Some extraordinary instances of this
are related by a recent traveler theV
who declares that the Turkish troops
have displayed their lack of nerve many
times in recent encounters with insur
gents, relates the Chicago Daily News.
When actual fighting is to be done many
of the soldiers seek seclusion in the ad
jacent fields or escape the observation of
their commanders by getting into
streams or ponds and immersing them
selves in water up to the neck. It was
near Uskub that a resort to this method'
of avoiding trouble was actually ob
served. An engineer corps had been
summoned hastily to the nearest bridge
over the Vardar, where bombs had just
been thrown, and found the guard espe
cially placed there to protect the bridge
conspicuously absent. It took the oflS
cers a considerable time to find what had
become of their missing men.
Apparently the demoralization of
Turkey's fighting forces extends also
to its naval vessels. There is a guard
ship at Salonika, a fairly modern-look
ing small cruiser, lying year in, year
out, peacefully at anchor in the bay.
One day an order came to the command
er to take a cruise, and the consterna
tion of that gallant officer was great,
because no screw steamer can move
without a shaft, and that had been
sold some time ago. But he was a man
of resource, and had a shaft made of
wood, praying that it would break with
in the first few minutes. The wooden"
shaft held by some miracle, and, as the
cruiser slowly steamed out of the gulf,
the captain's heart sank, for he had no
desire to go to sea with a shaft that
must break sooner or later. So he sent
below and had the shaft sawn half-way
through. A little extra Eteam and the
desired result wae accomplished, and
the guardship XVas towed back "dis
abled."
Some of the Albanians whose Insur
rectionary operations have been an oc
casion for concern, both to Turkey and
to the powers which are trying to com
pel reforms in that region, are curiously
ignorant as to the conditions in the
outer world. A writer who visited an
Albanian monastery, says.: "The fact
that I write impressed these worthy
friars greatly,'and Padre Gloacchino,
politician, as are tfll Albanians, made a
wonderful suggestion. 'Write along ar
ticle, my son,' he exclaimed, emphat
ically. 'Thou knowest us, and the
bravest of my. nation. Suggest an alli
ance against Europe that will assuredly
destroy the balance of the powers.' The
alliance which the padre expected to
overturn the balance of power was to
consist of England, Italy—and Albania."
POST OFFICE FRAUD ORDERS
How the Government Looks After Per
sons Using the Hails for
Swindling Purposes.
When a business concern in the Unit
ed States begins suddenly to receive a
arge number of letters daily, it may be
sure that, although no ripple has dis
turbed the surface, a quiet investigation
is going on, and if there Is anything dis
honest about the business a notise will
soon appear from the postmaster, to the
effect that the department at Washing
ton has ordered the retention of all let
ters addressed to that man or company,
says Youth's Comj»anion.
The dishonesty which is held to jus
tify the issuing of a fraud order may not
be a mere barefaced attempt to steal—
an effort to get something for nothing.
The charging of an excessive profit, or
misleading advertising, has called forth
such an order. A recent case in point
is that of a company which advertised to
furnish seed for an agricultural product
and to buy the product at market prices.
The order against the oompany was is
sued because it was learned that it sold
in small quantities, for a total of $000,
seed which it bought in bulk for $3 and
because it represented the product as
easy to raise, when, in fact, it is diffi
cult.
This fearless altitude and action of
the government is of the greatest pos
sible benefit to the country at larpe in
two ways. It checks, indeed stops abso
lutely, one kind of fraud, and it pro
tects innocent persons from loss through
that fraud. The thing on which stress
should be laid is the availability of this
strong arm of protection.
There is always a large number of
fraudulent schemes afloat, dependent
upon the publicity which they get
through advertising. When one's at
tention is attractod by such an advertise
ment, he has only to call the attention
of the postmaster to it, and ask him to
notify the department at Washington.
To do this in every suspicious case is a
duty which every honest man owes to
his neighbor as well as to himself.
Sized Up.
Mrs. Bacon—I see by this paper that
the average family in the United States
has four and seven-tenths persons.
Mr. Bacon—I suppose I'm the seven
tenths in this family.—Yonkers States
man.
DESERT PLEASANTRY.
Leading Dromedary—If you want to
beat that sandstorm you'd better hump
yourself.
Lagging Camel—All right. Hum
phrey if you insist on getting your
back up about it.—Chicago Da'ly
New*
3
01.
Ssff
Uf1
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