",.( Just pair o: pouting Hps,
Just two eye* of blue
The Denison Review
E. F. TUCKER, Publisher.
DV hy should I give up my book
Just to play with you?
Why should I get down and Poll
On the floor with you?
Do you think it quite enough
lhat you want me to?
DoIlies don't appeal to me,
I don't care for toya,
That's 'cause I'm growed up, you Me
Little girls and boys
:ii Are supposed to play with them,
i\J Never growed up men
be grown yourself some time
hat will you do then?
.1 expect you'll roll around,
All around the floor.
For some little baby wee, .•
Baby you adore
I'm too old to'play with doll*—
•', Oh, my Eyes-o'-blue!
But I'll never be too old
Just to play with you!
I will never be too old
Just to prance and sing,
Or to hold you on my foot
While you dip and swing
Tijl your yellow mass of curls
si Floats out on the air—
Look out now! I'm coming down!
Aren't we a pair!
What will I be first, a dog?
Or a train of cars?
Shall I be a jumping frog
Croaking at the stars? J]
No I think I'll be a dog
Chasing after you 1
'Look out for me! here I cornel
—J. M. Lewis, in Houston Post. v.
By EMERSON HOUGH
Author of "The Story of the Cowboy,
The Girl at the Halfway House, Etc.
Copyright, 1902, by Eiueraon Hough.)
THE GREAT PEACE.
Of the long and bitter journey from
the Iroquois towns to Lake St. George,
•down the Richelieu and thence through
the deep snows of the Canadian -win
ter," it boots little to make mention
neither to tell of that devotion of Raoul
de Ligny to the newly-rescued lady,
-already reputed in camp rumor to be
noble English family.
"That sous-lieutenant he Is tete
cmontee regarding madame," said Pierre
Noir one evening to Jean Breboeuf.
"As to that—well, you know Monsieur
L'as. Pouf! So much for yon mon
ifcey, par' eomparaison."
"He is a great capitaine, Monsieur
sL'as," said Jean Breboeuf. "Never a
better went beyond .the straits."
si "But very sad of late."
ft\ "Oh, oui, since the death of his
friend, Monsieur le Capitaine Pem
broke—may Mary aid his spirit!"
I "Monsieur L'as goes not on the trail
again," said Pierre Noir. "At least not
While this look is in his eye."
"The more the loss, Pierre Noir but
lome day the woods will call to him
•again. I know not how long it may
be, yet some day Mother Messasebe
will raise her'finger and beckon to
Monsieur L'as. and say: 'Come, my
eon!' 'Tis thus, as you know, Pierre
Yet at length the straggling settle
ments at Montreal were reached, and
here, after the fashion of the frontier,
s«ome sort of menage was inaugurated
for Law and his party. Here they lived
through the rest of the winter and
through the long, slow spring.
And then set on again the heats of
summer, and there came apace the time
igreed upon, in the month of August,
or the. widely heralded assembling of
the tribes for the Great Peace one cf
the most picturesque and significant
meetings of widely diverse human be
logs, that ever 'took place within the
ken of history.
They came, tiiese savages, now first
s- owning the strength of the invading
white men, from all the far and un
known corners of the western wilder
ness. They came afoot, and with little
trains of dogs, in single canoes, in little
groups and growing flotillas and vast
fleets of canoes, pushing on and on,
down stream, following the tide of the
fa:« down this pathway of more than a
thousand miles. The Iroquois, for once
mindful of a promise, came in a com
pact fleet, a hundred canoes strong,
and they stalked about the island for
days, naked, stark, gigantic, contemp
tuous of white and red men, of friend
and foe alike. The scattered Algon
quins, whose villages had been razed
by these same savage warriors, came
down by scores out of the northern
woods, along little, unknown streams,
and over paths with which none but
themselves were acquainted. From the
north, group joined group, and village
added itself to village, until a vast
body of people had assembled, whose
numbers would have been hard to esti
mate, and who proved difficult enough
to accommodate. Yet farther west, ad
ding their numbers to those already
gathered, came the fleets of tho driven
Hurcns, and the Ojibways, and tho
Hiamisi and the Outagamies, and tho
Ottawas, the Menominies and the Mas
coutins—even the Illini, late objects
Of the wrath of the five nations. T-he
Whole western wilderness powred forth
Its savage population, till all the shores
of tho St. Lawrence seemed one vast
aboriginal encampment. These massed
at the rendezvous about the puny set
tlement of Montreal in such numbers
that, comparison, the white popu
lation seemed insignificant. Then, had
there been a Pontiac or a Tecumseh.
bad there been one leader of the tribes
able to teach the strength of unity,
the white settlements of upper America
had i/idped been utterly destroyed.
M**1 r/\ v^ V^7 ,* r'
VAv^ ^v? £vv
V- A #, VU-t
taught but ancient tribal JeaionMes
held the savages apart.
With these tribesmen were many
prisoners, captives taken In raids all
along the thin and straggling frontier
farmers and artisans, peasants and sol
diers, women raped from the farms of
the Richelieu censitaires, and wood
rangers now grown savage as their
captors and loth to leave the wild life
into which they had so naturally
grown. It was the first reflex of the
wave, and even now the bits of flotsam
and jetsam of wild life were fain to
cling to the western shore whither
they had been carried by the advanc
ing flood. This was the meeting of the
ebb with the sea that sent it forward,
the meeting of civilized and savage
and strange enough was the nature of
those confluent tides. Whether the
red men were yielding to civilization,
or the whites all turning savage—this
question might well have arisen to an
observer of this tremendous spectacle.
The wigwams of the different tribes
and clans and families were grouped
apart, scattered along all the nar
row shore back of the great hill,
and over the Convent gardens and
among these stalked the native French,
clad in coarse cloth of blue, with gaudy
belt and buckskins, and cap of fur and
moccasins of hide, mingling frater
nally with their tufted and bepainted
visitors, as well as with those rangers,
both" envied and hated, the savage
coureurs de bois of tlxo far northern
fur trade men bearded, silent, stern,
clad in breech-clout and leggings like
any savage, as silent, as stoical, as
hardy on the trail as on the narrow
thwart of the canoe.
Savage feastings, riotings and drunk
enness, and long debaucheries came
with the Great Peace, when once the
word had gone out that the fur trade
was to be resumed. Henceforth there
was to.be peace. The French were no
longer to raid the little cabins along
the Kennebec and the Penobscot. The
river Richelieu was to be no longer a
red war trail. The English were no
longer to offer arms and blankets for
the beaver, belonging by right of prior
discovery to those who offtered French
brandy and French beads. The Iro
quois were no longer to pursue a
timid foe across the great prairies of
the valley of the Messasebe. The
Ojibways were not to ambush the scat
tered parties of the Iroquois. The un
ambitious colonists of New England
BUT VERY SAD OF LATE.
and New York were to be left to till
their stony farms in quiet. Meantime,
the fur trade, wasteful, licentious, un
profitable, was to extend onward and
outward in all the marches of the West.
From, one end of the Great River of
the West to the other the insignia of
France and of France's king were to
be erected, and France's posts were to
hold all the ancient trails. Even at the
mouth of the Great River, forestalling
these sullen English and these sluggish
English colonists, far to the south in
the somber forents and miasmatic
marshes, there was to be established
one more ruling point for the arms of
Louis the Grand. It was a great game
this, for which the continent of Amer
ica was in preparation. It was a
mighty thing, this gathering of the
Great Peace, this time when colonists
and their king were seeing the first
breaking of the wave on the shore of
an empire alluring, wonderful, unpar
Into this wild rabble of savages and
citizens, of priest and soldier and
coureur, Law's friends, Pierre Noir
and Jean Breboeuf, swiftly disap
peared, naturally, fitly and unavoid
ably. "The West is calling to us, Mon
sieur," said Pierre Noir one morning,
as he stood looking out across the
river. "I hear once more the spirits
of the Messasebe. Monsieur, will you
Law shook his head. Yet two dayo
later, as he stood at that veuy point,
there came to him the silent feet of
two coureurs instead of one. Once more
he heard in his ear the question:
"Monsieur L'as, will you come?"
At this voice he started. In an in
stant his arms were about the neck of
Du Mesne, and tears were falling .from
the eyes of both in the welcome of that
brotherhood Which is admitted only by
those who have known together arms
and darqer and hardship, the toMch of
tho hara ground and the of tho
wide blue sky.
"Du Mesne, my friend!"
"It is as though you came from the
depths of the sea, Du Mesne!" \$aid
"And as though you yoursolf arose
from the grave, Monsieur!"
"How did you know—?"
""Why, eawily. You do not understand
the ways ol ttab wilderness, where nev?s
travels as fast as in the cities. You
were hardly below the loot of Miclilga
non before runners from the Illini had
spread the news along the Chlcaqua,
where I was then ia camp. For the
rest, the runnen brought also news of
the Big Peace. 1 reasoned \hat the
lroquoia would not dare to destroy
their captlT«», that In time the agenta
of the government would receive the
captives of the Iroquois—that these
captive| would naturally come to the
settlements on the St. Lawrence, since
it was- the French against whom the
Iroquois had been at war that having
come to Montreal, you would naturally
remain here for a time. The rest was
easy. I fared on to the straits this
spring, and then on down the lakes. I
have sold our furs, and am now ready
to account to you with a sum quite
as much as we should have expected.
"Now, Monsieur," and Du Mesne
stretched out his arm again, pointing
to the down-coming flood of the St
Lawrence, "Monsieur, will you come?
I see not the St. Lawrence, but the
Messasebe. I can hear the voices call
Law dashed his hand across his eyes
and turned his head away. "Not yet,
Du Mesne," said he. "I do not know.
Not yet. I must first go across the
waters. Perhaps sometime—I can not
tell. But this, my comrades, my
brothers, I do know that never, until
the last sod lies on my grave, will I
forget the Messasebe, or forget you.
Go back, If you will, my brothers but
at night, when you sit by your fireside,
think of me, as I shall think of you,
there in the great valley. My friends,
it is the heart of the world!"
"There, Du Mesne—I would not talk
to-day. At another time. Brothers,
"Adieu, my brother," said the cour
eur, his own emotion showing in his
eyes and their hands met again.
"Monsieur is cast down," said Du
Mesne to Pierre Noir later, as they
reached the beach. "Now, what think
"Usually, as you know, Pierre, it is
a question of some woman. It reminds
me, Wabana was remiss enough when
I left her among the Illini with you.
Now, God bless my heart, I find her—
how think you? With her crucifix lost,
cooking for a dirty Ojibway!"
"Mary Mother!" said Pierre Noir, "if
it be a matter of a woman—well, God
help us all! At least 'tis something
that will take Monsieur L'as over seas
'"Tis mostly a woman," mused Du
Mesne "but this passeth my wit."
"True, they pass the wit of all. Now,
did I ever tell thee about the mission
girl at Michilimackinac—but stay!
That for another time. They tell me
that our comrade, Greysolon du L'hut,
is expected In to-morrow with a party
from the far end of Superior. Come,
let us have the news."
"Tous les printemps,
Tant des nouvelles,"
hummed Du Mesne, as he flung his arm
above the shoulder of the other and
the two so disappeared adown the
Dully, apathetically, Law lived on
his life here at Montreal for yet a time,
at the edge of that wilderness which
had proved all else but Eden. Near to
him, though in these guarded times
guest by necessity of the good sisters
of the Convent, dwelt Mary Connynge.
And as for these two, it might be said
that each but bided the time. To her
Law might as well have been one of the
corded Sulpician priests and she to
him, for all he liked, one of the nuns
of the Convent garden. What did it all
mean where was it all to end? he
asked himself a thousand times and a
thousand times his mind failed him of
any answer. He waited, watching the
great encampment disappear, first
slowly, then swiftly and suddenly, so
that in a night the last of the lodges
had gone and the last canoe had left
the shore. There remained only the
hurrying flood of the St. Lawrence,
coming from the west.
The autumn came on. Early in No
vember the ships would leave for
France. Yet before the beginning of
November there came swiftly and
sharply the settlement of the questions
which racked Law's mind. One morn
ing Mary Connynge was missing from
the Convent, nor could any o? the sis
ters nor the mother superior, explain
how or when she had departed!
Yet, had there been close observers,
there might have been seen a boat
dropping down the river on the early
morning of that day. And at Quebec
there was later reported in the books
of the intendant the shipping, upon the
good bark Dauphine, of Lieutenant
Raoul de Ligny, sometime officer of
the regiment Carignan, formerly sta
tioned In New France with him a
lady recently from Montreal, known
very well to Lieutenant de Ligny and
his family and to be in his care en
voyage to France the name of said
lady illegible upon the records, the
spelling apparently not having suited
the clerk who wrote it, and then for
got it in the press of other things.
Certain of the governor's household,
as well as two or three habitants
from the lower town, witnessed the ar
rival of this lady, who came down from
Montreal. They saw her take boat for
the bark Dauphine, one of the last
ships to go down the river that fall.
Yes, it was easily to be established.
Dark, with singular, brown eyes, petite,
yet not over small, of good figure—
assuredly so much could be said tor
obviously the king, kindly as he might
feel toward the colony of New France,
could not send out, among the young
women supplied to the colonists as
wives, very many such demoiselles as
this otherwiso assuredly all France
would have followed the king's ships
to the St. Lawrence.
John Law, a grave and saddened
man, yet one now no longer lading
in decision, stood alont- one day atHlie
parapet of the great iwk of Quebec,
gazing down the broad expanse of the
stream below. He was alone except
for a little child, a child too young to
Unow her mother, had death or dis
aster at that time removed the mother.
Law took the littlo one up in his
arms and gazed haia upon the up
"Catharine!" he said to himself.
"Pardon, monsieur," said a roMe at
his elbow. "Surely I have seen you
Law turned. Joncalre, the ambassa
dor of peace, stood by, smiling and ex
tending his hand.
"Naturally, I could never forget you,"
"Monsieur looks at the shipping,"
said Joncaire, smiling. "Surely he
would not be leaving New France,
after so luckily escaping the worst of
"Life might be the same for me over
there as here," replied Law. "As for
my luck, I must declare myself the
most unfortunate man on earth,
"Your wife, perhaps. Is ill?"
"Pardon, I have none."
"Pardon, In turn, monsieur—but, you
"It is the child of a savage woman,"
Joncaire pulled aside the Infant's
hood. He gave no sign, and a nice
indifference sat In his query: "Una
[To Be Continued.)
AN AMUSING BREACH.
Insubordination en the Part of a
Rooster That Brought
Gen. Ian Hamilton, now visiting In
this country, figures in one of the best
campaign stories of the Boer war. The
incident happened during the cam
paign east of Bloemfontein, says the
Philadelphia Ledger, when Hamilton
had command of an assorted column,
half Canadian, half regular, that com
posed the extreme right wing of Rob»
Gen. Hamilton reviewed the Cana
dian infantry one day in a small vil
lage for the purpose of telling them
they must stop the plundering for
which they were so notorious that they
had 'earned the nickname of "The
The column had just drawn up ana
was waiting for Hamilton to begin the
review when a ragged rooster ran out
from a hut and across the front of the
line. A kind of shiver ran through
the volunteers. Suddenly a private left
the ranks and took after the rooster.
Halt!" shouted Hamilton.
The soldier ran on. He shortly orer
took the rooster and turned back,
wringing the neck of the fowl. As ha
passed the general he noticed the fierce
scowl on his face. The soldier was an
Irish boy from Toronto and not easily
daunted, but this time he temporized.
Throwing the defunct rooster at the
general's feet, he said:
"There now I'll tache ye t' halt whin
the general says so!"
History records that the column
laughed and the general smiled. Also
that the soldier got only two days in
"quad" for one of the most barefaced
breaches of discipline in the records
of the most irregular corps in the
A STRANGE CURE.
llemedy for Consumption War M«dl
from a l'eclc of Gar
Mrs. Wolfe, the mother of the groat
general, kept a comprehensive cook
ery book, still preserved at Squerries
Court, .Kent, says the London News.
One of the recipes was for "a good \«a
ter for consumption." "Take a peck of
garden snails," says the prescription,
"wash them in beer, put them in aif
oven, and let them stay until they've
done crying then, with a knife and
fork, prick the green from them, and
beat the snails, shells and all, in a atone
mortar. Then take a' quart of green
earth worms, slice them through the
middle, and strew theem with salt
then wash them and beat them, the
pot being first put into the still with
two handfuls of angelico, a quart oi
rosemary flowers, then the snails and
worms, then egrimony, bears feet, red
dock roots, barberry brake, biloney.
wormwood, of each two handfuls, one
handful of rue-tumoric and on»
ounce of saffron, well died and beaten.
Then pour in three gallons of milk.
Wait until morning, then put in thref
ounces of cloves (well beaten), harts
horn grated. Keep the still covered
all night This done, stir it not. Dis
till it with a moderate fire. The pa
tient must take two spoonfuls at
SHE WAS GRATEFUL.
l'lantiuK Sintllowfr* on
Mr. Brown's business kept him so oc
cupied during the daytime that he had
little opportunity to enjoy the society
of his own children, relates Woman's
Home Companion. When ?ome na
tional holiday gave him a day of leisure
his young son was usually his chosen
companion. One ^lay. howover. Mi
Brown, reproached by the wistful eye*
of his seven-year-old daughter, re
versed the order of things, and invitat
the little gin to go with him for a loni
She v.xs a chy, silent, small person,
and during the two hours' stroll not
sint'le word could Mr. Brown induce thu
little maid to speak, but her shining
eyes attested that she appreciated his
efforts to amuse her indeed, she fairly
glowed with suppressed happiness.
Just before they reached home, how
ever, the child managed, but only after
a tremendous struggle with her inhor
ent timidity, to find words to rijtpree*
"I'apa, what flower do you like tests'"
"Why, I don't lcaow, my lear—sun
I "Then," cried the little gin, beanun*
with gi'Mitude, "that's what I'll plaB«
on yooi grave."
&>» yW«ri*.+A Sj4 ft ,VJ. **N«» ,!,M „r «*. *f N^-W^-va
©If? flrotrinre of tlje Entail
(EoUpgpH of AntPrira
By F^OF. GEORGE A. GATES,
President of Pomona College, California.
HE word college has a meaning in America different from itsfelf
significance anywhere else on earthy If requires a long ex-||f|
planation before an Englishman or a German can know whatgfpg
an American educator means when he speaks of his college.plf ,y
At best they cannot understand it. The American collegc|$|f|
began in response to early American needs it remains ba-ff|§
cause it still meets those demands. Otherwise it would have
passed on, as is the way of outgrown garments.
There has-been no more distinctively formative factor..,..^
in American life than these same colleges. Their product*
has gone into the very fiber of the nation's character.
The last quarter century has seen somewhat of a reaction to
ward universities, largely stimulated by John Hopkins, our first dis-'-t?.
tinctive university. That movement, into which our oldest and strongest
colleges, have been moving, along with our strongest state universities,
was also wise, organic, timely. Quite long enough had America been\'t^
dependent upon Europe for university work. "QW
But just in these present years a counter reaction is setting in iiu
the minds of American educators toward the small college. There is/^
reason in it and for it. The great universities will grow more and more
the "detached" college is not being outgrown nor supplanted. On the"
contrary, the best of these are growing at an even rapider rate. The'Vv
distinguishing features of the college as contrasted with the university
are too valuable to lose from American life. The college at its best is far
less exposed to "the tendency to foster a narrowly specialized efficiency^
at the expense of broad and liberalizing culture." American education."^
will not ultimately yield to that subtly fatal temptation. It is just at this
point that the American college has found and will retain its own great'-5-'
The "small college" must not be so small and poor as to be mean, f-f
It must be large enough for the "college spirit," and small enough that'A^
that spirit be not impossible through the fact that the men cannot know
each other. The touch between institution and student of intimate per- y1
sonal relation is a never-to-be-forgotten chief factor. Personality is' "'\4
the ultimate fact of education, as of all philosophy and life. Some sorts
of initiative and leadership, escapable amid larger numbers, one forced
upon most students in college. These activities are an invaluable train
ing for the wider world. Statistics abundantly show a far larger pro
portion of graduates of smaller colleges "doing well," than of larger in- .'
stitutions. A Harvard man has recently shown that this is strikingly true/
of his own college, comparing Harvard, the "small college," before' i860,
with Harvard "university" since that time.
©or lEqual SUgitts
By J. H. WOLFF.
Senior Vice-Commander C. A. R.
than others in physical and mental endowment, and no law can change|A|
this condition. But there is an equality of rights, and that is the whole'f^
basis of the Declaration of Independence.
Every man is entitled to the God-given tight to develop whatever^ll
powers he may possess, and any obstruction to this right constitutes^
tyranny. Whether a man's color be white or black, whether he is pos-N.
sessed of great or small gifts, he is, certainly, "a man for a' that," and
the powers with which by the Creator he has been endowed he ought to'
be entitled to exercise.
This is the whole sum of the principle enunciated by the Declaration^
of Independence. There is no rational attempt to make all men equal
in the sense that the wiser and the stronger man as he is created should-^
have no greater advantage in life than the weaker and less efficient man.'i||
Such an attempt is essentially unwise, and if put into practice could
have only one effect, namely, that of disintegration and disorganization,
But that all men should have the equal right to make the most of
themselves, to pursue happiness, and to enjoy life and liberty, who can
Every attempt that has been made in the world's history to alter this"'
principle, to make one race or one section subservient or subjeet to
another has eventually failed. And is not this proof of the fact that, in
the opinion of the Creator at least, all men are created equal
Art of leaping
By DR. GEORGE F. HALL.
100 years and upward now. And yet age of itself is no virtue. Unless
one can keep young in looks, feelings, actions and ambitions what pleas
ure can there be in merely piling up years
I believe that the art of keeping young consists largely in the main-!.'*
tenance of a right attitude of the mind on the subject. The great apostle
Paul laid down one of the most profound philosophical'truths of the
ages when he said• As a man thinketh is he." If a woman con
stantly thinks gray hairs and wrinkles she will soon have both in abund-^
ance. On the other hand, if she boldly defies spectacles, powders, paints,
stays, wigs, etc., and constantly asserts to her own heart and the whole*
world her right to remain young, nine times out of ten she will still be 3
girl at 40 instead of a broken down old woman ready for the grave.
If a man will defy old Father Timeby a constant mental and physical
declaration of his right to keep young and buoyant he can win in a walk^
There is no use for a nervous collapse at 35 ^r 40. Most men chew too
much tobacco, smoke too many cigarettes, drink too much liquor and
live too fast every way. Too many mistake reckless dash for strenuous
ness. Repose is one of the greatest needs of the hour. Washington was
a man of giant purpose and iron will, yet withal a man of magnificent
repose. But for a little carelessness which precipitated pneumonia he
might have lived to pass the century mark.
Sandow advises exercise and cold baths. This is all right as far as
it goes. But a regimen which considers only the physical man is worth
very little without a pure, strong mind, a clean, honorable life and a
There is no such thingfe
as equality except in the|f§|
political sense. It isffjf
foolish to suppose that|f||.r
there can be any equal-|if'
ity of mind or of person.pj|
Some men are betterH^f
In olden times men
lived to a great age few
died under the century
mark unless killed in
the battle or the
There is no physical rea-^
son, no edict of nature,'™"5
why men should not live
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