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The Denison review. [volume] (Denison, Iowa) 1867-current, July 06, 1904, Image 9

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The Denison Review
E. ?. TUCKER. Publisher.
Pop's got to kiss you now,
Kiss me by!
Life's such a rowdy-3ow,
Pop's got to go away.
Pop's got to work all day
But he'll come home to play
By and by.
Pop's got to go to town—
Pop'o got to put you down. r-riA
Don't you cry ..
When evening shadows fall,
When we hear nlghtbirds sail,
Ihen we'll forget It all,
My! Oh, my! 4,
While the slow minutes go,
Pop will just droam, you know,
Dear, of you
Dream of the evening sweet,
Dream of £he girl he'll meet,
He'll hear your laughter sweet*
Sweet and true.
lAnd we will romp again,
Just aa glad
Forget the parting pain
We have had
So, dearie, kiss me "bye,"
80, dearie, don't you cry:
Now wave me "Bye-o-bye!
My, oh my!
Bye-o', Dad!"
—J. M. Lewis, in Houston Post,
Author of "The Story
of the Cowboy,"
The Girl at the Halfway House,"
Copyright, IMS, by Emerson Hough.)
A soberness had come over the habit,
of the master mind of this little col
ony. His hand took up tbe ax, and
forgot the sword and gun. Day after
•day he stood looking about him, exam
ining and studying in little all the
«trange things which he saw seeking
to learn as much .as might be of the
timorous savages, who in time began
to straggle back to their ruined vil
lages talking, as best he might,
through such interpreting as was pos
sible, with savages who came from
.he west of the Messasebe, and from
the south and from the far southwest
bearing, and learning and wondering
of land which seemed as large as
al] the earth, and various as all the
lands that lay beneath the sun—that
west, so glorious, so new, so bound
less, which was yet to be the home of
countless hearth-fires and the sites of
myriad fields of corn. Let" others hunt,
and fish, and rob the Indians of their
furs, after the accepted fashion of the
time as for John Law, he must look
about him, and think, and watch this
growing of the •corn.
He saw it fairly from its beginning,
this growth of the maize, this plant
which never yet had grown on Scotch
_r English soil this tall, beautiful,
Voad-bladed, tender tree, the very em
blem of all fruitfulness. He saw here
and there, dropped by the careless
hand of some departed Indian woman,
the little germinating seeds, just
thrusting their pale-green heads up
through the soil, half broken by the
tomahawk. He saw the clustering
green shoots—numerous, in the sign
plenty—all crowding together and
clamoring for light, and life, and air,
and room. He saw the prevailing of
the tall and strong upthrusting stalks,
after the way of life saw the others
dwarf and whiten, and yet cling on at
the base of the bolder stdm, parasites,
worthless, yet existing, after the way
of life.
He saw the great central stalks
apring boldly up, so swiftly that it al
most seemed possible to count the
successive leaps of progress. He saw
•the strong-ribbed leaves thrown out,
waving a thousand hands of cheerful
welcome and assurance—these blades
of the corn, so much mightier than any
blades of steel. He saw the broad
beckoning banners of the pale tassels
bursting out atop of the stalk, token
of fecundity and of the future. He
caught the wide-driven pollen as it
whitened upon the earth, borne by the
parent west wind, mother of increase.
He saw the thickening of the green
leaf at the base, its swelling, its
growth and expansion, till the indefi
nite enlargement showed at length the
incipient ear.
He noted the faint brown of the ends
of the sweetly-enveloping silk of the
ear, pale-green and often underneath
the sheltering and protecting husk.
He found the sweet and milk-white
tender kernels, row upon row, forming
rapidly beneath the husk, and saw at
length tbe hardening and darkening
of the husk at its free end, which told
that man might pluck and eat.
And then he saw the fading of the
tassels, tbe darkening of the silk and
the crinkling of the blades and there,
borne on the strong parent stem, he
noted now the many full-rowed ears,
protected by their husks and heralded
by th* tassels and the blades. "Como,
come c, all ye people! Enter in, for
I will feed ye all!" This wai the song
iiff tho maiiie, its invitation, it* coun
sel, its promise.
Under the warped lodg--, frames
which the fires of the Iroquois had
spared, (.here were yet vifiule clusters
of para of last year's corn. Here,
undt* jiis own eye, were growing yet
other ears, ripe for the harvesting and
ripe for the coming growth. A strange
spell fell upon the soul of Law.
Visions crossed his mind, born in the
soft warm air of these fecundating
winds, of this strange yet peaceful
At times tie stood and looKed out
from the door of the palisade, when
the V'airit mists were riaiof la
-vS &
::i, is*
4k* "V
morning' at the mandate of the sun, andToftjie.,church—though
to his eyes these waving seas of grasses fchtfrch "he glorified therein I
all seemed beckoning fields of corn.
These smokes, coming from the broken
tepees of the timid tribesmen, surely
they wose from the roofs. of happy
and contented homes? These wreaths
and wraiths of the twisving and wide
stalking mists, surely these were the
captains of a general husbandry! Ah,
John Law, John Law! Had God given
thee the right feeling and contented
heart, happy indeed had been these
days in this new land of thine own,
far from ignoble strivings and from
fevered dreams, far from aimless strug
gles and unregulated avarice, far from
oppression and from misery, far from
bickerings, heart-burnings and envy
ings! Ah, John Law! Had God but
given thee the pure and well-contented
heart! For here in the Messasebe, that
Mind which made the universe and set
man to be one of its little inhabitants
—surely that Mind had planned that
man should come and grow in this
place, tall and strong, and fruitful,
useful to all the world, even as thlti
swift, strong growing of the maize.
The breath of autumn came Into the
air. The little flowers which had dot
ted the grassy robe of the rolling hills
had long since faded away under the
ardent sun, and now there appeared
tfnly the denuded stalks of the mul
leins and the flaunting banners of the
goldenrod. The wild grouse shrank
from the edges of the little fields and
joined their numbers into general
bands, which night and morn crossed
the country on sustained and strong
winged flight The plumage of the
young wild turkeys, stalking in droves
among the open groves, began to emu
late the iridescent splendors of their
elders. The marshes above the village
became the home of yet more numer
ous thousands of clamoring wild fowl,
and high up against the blue there
passed, on the southbound journey,
the harrow of the wild geese, wending
their way from ndtth to south across
an unknown empire.
A chill came into the waters of
the river, so that "the bass and pike
sought out .the deeper pools. The
squirrels busily hoarded up supplies of
the nuts now ripening. The antlers of
the deer and the elk which emerged
from the concealing thickets now
showed no longer ragged strips of vel
vet, and their tips were polished in the
preliminary fitting for the fall season
of love and combat. There came nights
when the white frost hung heavy upon
all the bending grasses and the broad
leafed plants, a frost which seated the
maize leaves and set aflame the foliage
of the maples all along the streams,
and decked in a hundred flamboyant
tones the leaves of the sumach and all
the climbing, vines.
As all things now presaged the com
ing winter, so there approached also
the time when the little party, so long
companions upon the western trails,
must for the first time know division.
Du Mesne, making ready for the re
turn trip over the unknown Wiaterways
back to the lakes, as had been deter
mined to be necessary, spoke of it as
though the journey were but an affair
of every day.
"Make no doubt, Monsieur L'as,"
said he, "that I shall ascend this river
of the Illini and reach Micliiganon well
before the snows. Once at the mission
of the Miamis, or the village at the
river Chicaqua, I shall be quite safe
for the winter, if I decide not to go
farther on. Then, in the spring, I
make no doubt, I shall be able to trade
our furs at the straits, if I like not the
long run down to the Mountain. Thus,
you see, I may be with you again some
time within the following spring."
"I hope it may be so, my friend,"
replied Law, "for I shall miss you sad
ly enough."
'Tis nothing, monsieur you will
be well occupied. Suppose I take with
me Kataikini and Kabayan, perhaps
also Tete Gris. That will give us four
paddlers for the big canoe, and you
will still have left Pierre Noir and
Jean, to say nothing of our friends the
Illini hereabout, who will be glad
enough to make cause with you in case
of need. I will *cuve Wabana for
madame, and trust she may prove of
service. See to it, pray rou, that she
observes the ofllccs of the church for
melhinks, uulcs3 watchcd, Wabana is
disposed to become careless and uu
"This I will look to," said Law,
"Then all is well," resumed Du
Mesne, "and my absence will be b-.it a
little thing, as we measure it on 'he
trails. You may find a/winter alone in
the wilderness a Dit duil for you, may
hap duller than were it in London, or
even in Quebec. Yet 'twill pass, and
in tlino we shall meet again. Perhaps
some good father will be wishing to
come bank with me to set up a mis
sion among the Illfnl. ThesJ good
fathers, they so delight in losing fin
1. and ears, and noses for the good
... vrfe.
where the.
times cannot say. Perhaps some leech
—mayhap some artisan—"
"Nay, 'tis too far a spot, Du Mesne,
to tempt others than ourselves."
"Upon the contrary rather, Monsieur
L'as. It is matter for laughter to see
the efforts of Louis and his ministers
to keep New France chained to tbe
St. Lawrence! Yet my good lord gov
ernor might as well puff out his checks
agaiast the north wind as to try to
jteep New France from pouring west
into the Messasebe and as much might
be said for those good rulers of the
English colonies, whn are seeking ever
to keep their people east of the Alle
'Tis tbe old world over again,
there in tho St. Lawrence," said Law.
"Right you are, Monsieur L'as," ex
claimed Du Mesne. "New France is
but an extension of the family of
Louis. The intendant reports every
thing to the king. Monsieur So-and
so is married. Very well, the king
must know it. Monsieur's eldest
daughter is making sheep's eyes at
such and such a soldier of the regi
ment of the king. Very well, this Is
weighty matter, of which the king
must be advised! Monsieur's wife be
comes expectant of a son and heir.
'Tis meet that Louis the Great should
be advised of this! Mother of God!
'Tis a pretty mess enough back there
on the St. Lawrence, where not a hen
may cackle over its new-laid egg but
the king must know it, and where not
a family has meat enough for its chil
dren to eat nor clothes enough to cover
them. My faith, in that poor medley
of little lords and lazy vassals, how
can you wonder that the best of us
have risen and taken to the woods!
Yet 'tis we who catch their beaver for
them and if God and the WPhg be will
ing some time we shall get a certain
price for our beaver—provided God and
the king furnish currency to pay us
and that the governor, the priest and
the intendant ratify the acts of God
and the king!"
Law smiled at the sturdy vehemence
of the other's speech, yet there was
something of soberness in bis own re
"Sir," said he, "you see hfre'my lit
tle crooked rows of maize, took you,
the beaver will pass away, but the
roots of the corn will never be torn
out. Here is your wealth, Du Mesne."
The sturdy captain scratched his
head. "I only know, for my part,"
said he, "that I do not care for the
settlements. Not that I would not be
glad to see the king extend his arm
farther to the west, for these sullen
English are crowding us more and
more along our borders. Surely the
land belongs to him who finds it."
"Perhaps better to him who can both
find and hold it But this soil will one
day raise up a people of its own."
"Yet as to that," rejoined Du Mesne,
as the two turned and walked back to
the stockade, "we are not here to
handle the affairs of either Louis or.
William. Let us e'en leave.that to mon
sieur the intendant, and monsieur the
governor, and our friends, the gray
owls and the black crows, the Recollets
,and the Jesuits. I mind to call this,
spot home with you, if you like. I
shall be back as soon as may be with
the things we need, and we shall plant
here no starving colony, but one good
enough for the home of any man.
Monsieur, I wish you very well, and I
may congratulate you on your daugh
ter. A heartier Infant never was born
anywhere on the water trail between
the Mountain and the Messasebe.
What name have you chosen for the
ycung lady. Monsieur?"
"'I have decided," said John Law, "to
call her Catharine."
Had nature indeed intended Law for
the wild life of the trail, and had he
indeed spent years rather than months
among these unusual scenes, he could
hardly have been hotter fitted for the
part. Hardy of limb, keen of eye, tire
less of foot, with a hand which any
weapon fitted, his success as hunter
made his companions willing enough
to assign to him the chase of the bison
or the stag so that he became not
only patron but providjr for the camp.
Some weeks after the departure of
Du Mesne, Law was returning from
"the hunt some miles below the sta
tion. His tail and powerful figure, har
dened by continued outdoor exercise,
was scarce bowed by the weight of the
wild buck which he bore across his
shoulders. His eye, accustomed to the
instant readiness demanded in the
voyageur's life, glanced keenly about,
taking in each item of the scene, each
movement of the little bird on the tree,
the rustling of tho grass where a rab
bit started from its form, the whisk
of the gray squirrel's tail on the limb
far overhead.
The touch of autumn was now in
the air. The leaves of the wild grape
vine were falling. The oaks had donned
garments of somber brown, the hick
ories had lost their leaves, while here
and there along the river shores the
flaming sentinels of the maples had
changed their scarlet uniform for one
of duller hue. The wild rice in the
marshes had shed its grain upon the
mud banks. The acorns wcro loosen
ing In their cups. Fall in tho west,
gorgeous, beautiful, had now set in,
of all the seasons of the year, that most
loved by the huntsman.
This tall, lean man, clad in buckskin
like a savage, brown almost as a sav
age, as active and as alert, seemed to
fit not ill with these enviionments, nor
to lack either confidence or content
ment. He walked on steadily, follow
ing the path along the bayou bank, and
at length paused for a moment, tnrov
ing down his burden and et-ioplng to
drink at th«» tiny pool made by ttye little
rivulet which trickled down the face
of the blut. Here be fcathed his fz^w
and hands in tho cool stream, for the
BMBM&t abandoning, himsetf to that
I jl'MA)
rest which t!i„ nuater ^arns. II wma
when at length he raised his head and
turned to resume his burden that his
suspicious eye caught a glimpse of
something which sent him in a flash
below the level of the grasses, and
thence to the cover of a tree trunk.
As he gazed from his hiding-place
he saw the tawny waters of the bayou
broken into a long series of advancing
ripples. Passing the fringe of wild
rice, swimming down beneath the
heavy cordage of the wild grapevines,
there came on two canoes, roughly
made of elm bark, in. fashion which
would have shown an older frontiers
man full proof of their western origin.
In the bow of the foremost boat, as
Law could now clearly see, sat a
slender young man, clad in the uni
form, now soiled and faded, of a cap
tain in the British army. His boat
was propelled by four dusky paddiers.
Indians of the east. Stalwart, powerful,
silent, they sent the craft on down
stream, their keen eyes glancing swift
ly from one point to the other of the
ever-changing panorama, yet finding
nothing that would seem to warrant
pause. Back of the first boat by a short
distance came a kindred craft, its crew
comprising two white men and two In
dian paddlers. Of the white men, one
might have been a petty officer, the
other perhaps a private soldier.
It was, then, as Du Mesne had said.
Every party bound into the west must
pass this very point upon the river of
the Illini. But why should these be
present here? Were they friends or
foes? So queried the watcher, tense
and eager as a waiting panther, now
crouched with straining eye behind the
sheltering tree.
As the leading boat swung clear of
the shadows, the man in the prow
turned his face, scanning closely the
shore of the stream. As he did so,
Law half started to his feet, and a
moment later stepped from his conceal
ment. He gazed again and again,
doubting what he saw. Surely those
clean-cut, handsome features could be
long to no man but his former friend,
Sir Arthur Pembroke!
Yet how could Sir Arthur be here?
What could be his errand, and how had
he been guided hither? These sudden
questions might, upon the instant, have
confused a brain ready as that of this
observer, who paused not to reflect
that this meeting, seemingly so im
possible, was in fact the most natural
thing in the world indeed, could scarce
have been avoided by anyone traveling
with Indian guides down the water
way to the Messasebe.
The keen eyes of the red paddlers
caught sight of the crushed grasses
at the little landing on the bayou bank,
even as Law rose from his hiding
place. A swift, concerted sweep of the
paddles sent the boat circling out into
midstream, and before Law knew it
he was covered by half a dozen guns.
He hardly noticed this. His own gun
he left leaning against a tree, and
his hand was thrown out high in front
of him as he came on, calling out to
those in the stream. He heard the
command of the leader in the boat,
and a moment later both canoes
swung inshore.
[To Be Continued.].""''
Stanley aa a Fighter.
A thoroughly good man was Henry
M. Stanley, whom I first met in the
Ashanti expedition. No noise, no
danger ruffled his nerve, and he looked
as cool and self-possessed as if he
had been at "target practice." Time
after time as I turned in his direction
I saw him go down to a kneeling po
sition to steady his rifle as he plied
the most daring of the enemy with a
never-faliing aim. It is nearly 30
years ago, and I can still see before
me the close-shut lips and determined
expression of his manly face which,
when he looked in my direc
tion, told plainly I had near me an
Englishman in plain clothes whom nc
danger could appal. Had I felt In
clined to run away the cool, firm, un
flinching manliness of that face would
have given me fresh courage. I had
been previously somewhat prejudiced
by others against him, but all such
feelings were slain and buried at
Amoaful.—From Lord Wolseley's
A Bird Friendship.
The rector of Woolstone, Mr. Gilbert
Coventry, has just told me of a wild
rock-dove which one of his stable
boys had reared from the nest. It
slept in the open, however, and had
l'ull liberty. Soon the good things on
the rector's table attracted it, and it
would appear through the open win
dow at meal times, take hot soup with
much zest and even sip sherry from
the wineglass. At night it often
slipped in and slept in the rector's bed,
on its back, under the coverlet! One
Sunday morning during the reading of
the lesson the dove flew swiftly through
an open window into the church and
settled on the rector's head. Broad
smiles spread over the faces of the
elders and audible titters cama from
the youngsters. A gentle touch sent
the bird down to the edge of the clerk's
desk below, where It sat undisturbed.
—Pall Mall Gazette.
Sometimes It Separates.
A teacher in our graded schools was
impressing upon the pupils in her clas9
tho great value of the Atlantic cable
in bringing the different countries
closer together, keeping them in touch
with each other, thus promoting theii
social and commercial relations. She
dwelt at length upon her explanation
and when she had made her point very
clear, by way of summing up what she
had said, she asked the question, "Now
'iow many can tell me what one thing
unites more people than any othej
thing in our world?"
One hand rose higher than tbe rest.
"Bertha, you may tell u• class
listen," said the teacher.
"Matrimony," said Bertha.—Wotc
an's Home Computet
©Iff Hatof nf
A &0lutuw nf life Sauroafl uite
Problem Hamming Nmasarg
In Charge of Forest Products Department of Agriculture.
HE enormous rate of consumption of timber for railroad ties,
and to a less extent for telegraph poles and other timbers
used in railroad work, is giving serious concern to all rail
road men at the present day. Vast quantities of wood are
taken from our forest lands every year without any regard
for the future. For the last 10 or 15 years the government
foresters, the journals devoted to railroad interests, and more
recently the lumber trade journals have been calling attention
to the increasing amount of timber used for ties, and have
been urging that, in view of the rising prices and diminishing
supply already evident, some steps should be taken to provide for future
Various suggestions have been made as to how the question of 3
future supply of ties might be solved. Some have suggested (and this
suggestion is made with increasing frequency) that ties should be made
out of materials other than wood. Granite ties were' among the earliest
substitutes offered they were used for some time in Dublin, Ireland,
and on the old Boston and Lowell railroad in Massachusetts. For some
50 years various forms of metal ties have been suggested, and a large
number of steel ties have been tried in various countries. In recent
years concrete ties have been made, and some of these are now being
tested. These ties are either composed wholly of concrete or are pro
vided with wooden blocks embedded in concrete to serve as a rail bear
ing. There is also a steel concrete tie, constructed of concrete with
strengthening steel rods embedded in it, which likewise sometimes has
wooden rail bearings.
In spite of the general urging to economy, and in spite of the gen
eral acceptance of the fact that timber has become scarcer and more
expensive from year to year, very little progress seems to have been
made toward solving, even partially, the question as to what is to be
done toward securing ties in the future. Ties are still bought and sold
as they were years ago. It is, however, becoming harder every year for
the purchasing agent to call for 500,000 first-class ties of white oak,
with the certainty of getting them. The unwelcome fact that ties are
scarcer has already presented itself, and it will continue to do so with
rapidly increasing force. It is believed'that the next few years will see
a very radical change in the attitude of railroad men toward the tie prob
lem, and, therefore, toward forest problems. The rapid introduction of
treated timbers is the first step in this change. Many have protested
against the use of treated woods, and some are still doing so, but all will
eventually come to use them. The advisibility of using treated woods is
no longer an open question their use is a matter of necessity to-day, and
must be regarded as such in meeting present problems.
The use of chemically treated woods is an innovation on most rail
roads, and it has come to many so suddenly that they are not prepared
to grasp the exact nature of the change they are making. The writer
firmly believes that unless the problems discussed below are considered,
many if not all users of chemically treated ties will be disappointed.
Ties made of red oak and the soft pines will not last, using that term
in its broadest sense, unless they are cared for in other ways besides
chemical treatment. Few will then ask, "Why did they not last?" The
mere fact that the treated ties had to be removed from service will be
sufficient for many to blame the timber and the treatment. But the
chemical treatment of timber is no longer an experiment. One can treat
timber so as to prevent it from decaying, and there ought to be no hesi
tation in adopting the use of treated timbers on most railroads to-day.
Commissioner of Health, Chicago.
which is placed upon the tap. Of these the stone or porcelain are the
only ones that are of value, and these only if properly attended to. Dur
ing the first few hours the filter is used the bacteria, being so small, pass
through the pores of the filter. These pores finally become clogged with
bacteria. Then, after a number of hours, depending upon the pressure,
the water will be free from bacteria but after a day or so the bacteria
grow through the filter and there is again the contamination of the water.
Therefore, the first water coming from the filter should be rejected and
the filter should be boiled and thoroughly cleaned every two or three
The common filters that are placed upon the tap or faucet are not
only worthless, but are actually harmful, because tlwy do not stop any of
the bacteria—only the organic matter, such as vege
table and animal detritus. Now, when the water is
shut off a few bacetria remaining upon this animal
matter find it to be a suitable food and as a
result they increase enormously in numbers, so that
the next water that is drawn through filter washes
them out and the longer the filter is used the more
bacteria are found in the water. The water may
actually be three or four times as bad after it passes
through such a filter as it was before it entered.
From this it can readily be seen that even the
best filters are worthless unless properly cared for.
A Slack nf Srar?
it is by the ordinary world, and s6 we have women stooping and slouch
ing about the stage, poking their heads forward in a manner that would
have called down upon them the wtath of the mother of old times.
Nowadays we call this "having a willowy figure," and it is praised
by critics accordingly. But grace does not mean stooping, and the
woman who holds her head up and looks life boldly in the face, makes
far more of whatever scanty good looks she may possess, than does the
beauty with the round shoulders and the artistic so-called poke.
It is a common thing to see girls sitting with their arms on the
table at dinner, and a^caricaturist who observed social life as did John
Leech might make the funniest sketch of four fair creatures in this atti
tude,* all leaning forward until their four heads almost touched. The
stooping attitude is not really graceful or pretty, and is exceedingly ba4
{or the health, as any schoolmaster or mistress can testify.
,^4 ft. -C
There are two classes
of filters on the market
-r-the unglazed porcelain
or stone, and the small
filtering arrangement,
consisting of a tube con
taining charcoal or sand,
The fashion for being
natural has spread to the
theater in a peculiarly
unfortunate manner. De
portment is as much
neglected by actresse^as

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