Newspaper Page Text
JOHN BURTlSi5fSS Autkor of Tb Kidnapped MlWonalres," "Colooel Monroe' Doetrlnt," Etc Copyright, 1903, bt I AU rlcbti Coptriqht, lfiOI. bt Fbcdkuick Uph4M Adams reserved A. J. DmxL Biddli CHAPTER NINE Continued. Two warm arm3 were clasped around his neck, a face wet with tears nestled for a moment on his shoul der, and she kissed him twice, with 'the live kisses that come from the heart of a woman whose affection has passed the mysterious border that sep arates friendship from love. "Good bye, John; God bless you and guard you!" "Good-bye, Jessie; good-bye!" He watched her as she faded away from him and disappeared beyond the vines which shaded the veranda. Under the arched maples where he had walked with , Jessie so many itlmes, and down the sandy road where they had loitered In summer days now gone forever, John Burt urged the horse along. It was two miles to Peter Burt's, and he soon reached the gloomy old house. A fig ure stood by the gate. John rode for ward and recognized his grandfather. "You did well to 'come home, my boy," said the old man, "whose deep, calm voice held an anxious note. "Something has happened, and my soul has been calling you since dusk. Ride' to the graveyard and I'll follow you. It Isn't safe to talk here." In the far corner of the old grave yard John Burt hitched his horse and .turned to meet his grandfather. The old man seated himself on the grave of the pioneer Burt who, two hundred lyears before, had dared the dangers of the wilderness. "Now we can talk," he said. "Tell ime what has happened." Quickly John Burt related the Inci dents of the tragedy. . The old man made no sign during the recital, and was silent for min utes after John had ended. "He deserved to die, and It was written that he should perish by vio lence; but his blood Is not on your head," began the old man calmly. "Murder, In the sight of God, Is In the jnr 77cr2WErr Kites: heart not In the hand. I I am " Peter Burt's voice broke, and a shudder swept over him; but he con trolled himself, and continued: , "My boy, will you take your grand father's advice?" "I will, grandfather I will!" re plied John firmly. "It Is written In God's word; 'If thou faint In the day of adversity, thy strength Is small; for a Just man falleth seven times and riseth np again,'" said'Peter Burt, laying his hand on John's shoulder. "God has willed that you shall be His Instru ment In great undertakings, and It Is decreed that the events of to-day shall not be a stumbling-block to your feet You are now to go out Into the world, and though you may know it not, God will guide your footsteps. It were folly to imagine that this un provoked quarrel points to your un doing. It is the sign that you are at once to depart from fields you have utgrown, to take up your work In that broader sphere which Is waiting you. Something has whispered to me that you should go to California. To day's event Is the sign that you go now. You will start to-night, my boy, and God will be with you. Hush! I hear the hoofs of horses!" The old man Jumped to his feet "Officers are coming!" be said In a low voice. "I will meet them. Re main here till I return. Hold that horse by the nose lest he whinny." As John sprang to the horse's head, the old man vanished In the dark ness. . Peter Burt entered the rear door of his house and was In his room when the tramp of steps was heard, fol lowed by loud knocking. The old man waited awhile, as If dressing. He then lighted a lamp and stood In the hallway. The pounding had been re peated at Intervals, and gruff voices were heard In Impatient conversation. "Who's there?" demanded the old man. "We are officers of the law, Mr. Burt," a voice declared. "We are af ter John Burt, your grandson, who has killed a man." "Have you a warrant for his arrest, or a search warrant?" demanded the old man. "Show me one at the win dow and I will open the door. If you have none, begone, and let me rest In peace." A conference followed, and a gruff voice rose In anger. . "Let us in, old man," It thundered. "Warrant or no warrant, let us In, or fey God well pound your door down vw Mr i II 1 W and take you along with your murder in' grandson!" "Open my door at your peril!" said Peter Burt sternly. "Show me your authority, and you can enter my house. This house is my castle, and no man has ever entered it without my consent." Growling threats, the men retired. In a minute they returned, armed with a log. Used as a battering ram, It was hurled against the heavy oak en door. For a time the stout frame resisted, but with a crash the Jamb gave way and the door flew open. With an oath and a call to his com panion, the larger of the two rushed in. As the man crossed the threshold the patriarch's left arm flew out, and the corded fingers gripped the reck less Intruder by the throat. The sec ond man hit the old farmer a glancing blow with the butt end of a revolver. With a catlike movement, Peter Burt wrenched his opponent's forearm. With a cry of pain the man dropped the weapon to the floor. Before he could guard himself Peter Burt dealt nlm a hard blow on the face, and gripped him by the neck as he reeled against the wall. Holding the two men at arm's length, Peter cracked their heads to gether, and then dragged them Into the room, where the lamplight fell.on tnelr faces. The protruding tongue and the blood-surged face of the one who had led the charge caused Peter Hurt to relax his hold, and the man fell limp to the floor. A glance showed that his companion was sense less, and the old man stretched him out on the carpet. Peter Burt produced a coll of rope from a closet, and with the dexterity of a sailor bound the senseless men. He then proceeded to revive them. "I have not gagged you," said Pe ter Burt, as he stood over them, "for the reason that your cries would bring you no assistance. As soon as convenient, I will give you more com fortable quarters. Now that you are hero,' you may spend the night with me." Seating himself at a desk, Peter Burt wrote two letters, and sealed them. He then opened a huge, Iron bound chest, and for half an hour was busy with its contents. When his work was ended, he quitted the room without so much as a glance at the silent figures on the floor. John met him at the gateway. "Here are your Instructions, John," he said. "Go to your room and select such trifles as you can carry In your saddle bags. You must make Ply mouth before daybreak. This letter is addressed to a man In Plymouth. Here Is a ring. Show him this ring with the letter. Stay In his house all day, and start for New Bedford about ten o'clock to-morrow night You must arrive In New Bedford be fore daybreak, and go to the address on this letter. When you find it show Captain Horton the letter and the ring. He will put you on board the Segregansett, which sails for the South Pacific In three days from now. This third package you will not ex amine until well at sea. Here is money. Enter the house and make no unnecessary noise. I will saddle your horse and watt at the barn." The skjr was aflame with lightning as John stood once more by the old man's side. The rumble of thunder told of the near approach of the tem pest , "John," said Peter Burt as he grasped the boy's hand in his, "I feel no sorrow save the pain of a tempor ary parting. I shall see you again, my boy; I shall clasp your band in the vigor of your manhood, when sac cess has crowned your efforts, and when your happiness Is complete. Do not write to me or attempt to com municate with me, or with anyone, until you are rich and strong enough to meet your enemies on equal ground. During these coming years let money be your ambition. You live In an age when money is the god of the material world. Understanding has been granted to you, and when yon apply yourself to the struggle the thrill of knowledge will pervade you. You have received a ken of this world's affairs, so that I can say to you in the language of Isaiah: 'I will give thee the treasures of darkness and the hidden riches of secret places.' Rest secure In that promise, have abiding faith in It, and hold no communication with those who love you until my prophecy has come to pass. Do you promise me, my boy?" "I do, grandfather!" said John, who was deeply affected. "You have been so good " "Never mind, my boy; thank God, not me. Good-bye, John God bless you!" The first drops of the storm pat tered on the dusty roadway as the old man raised his hands and gave John his blessing. Springing into the saddle, the boy caught one last glimpse of Peter Burt in a brilliant flash of lightning which glorified his heroic figure, his white hair shining as a halo above his brow. It was four o'clock when he halted at a small house on the outskirts .of Plymouth. Years before, with Peter Burt, he had visited the old sailor who was spending there his declining years. After repeated knocking, the old man opened the door. John hand ed him the letter and showed the ring. He read the letter and heartily greeted his guest. "Enough said, my boy!" he de clared, as he burned the letter. "You'll be as safe here as in God's pocket Make yourself comfortable and I'll stow away your horse." When the old man returned he pre pared a breakfast which John ate wltt relish, and then his host showed him to a bed which, though hard, seemed the most delightful place he had found In years. The sun was low when John woke. The old sailor did not betray the slightest curiosity con cerning John's Journey, and at ten o'clock his guest bade him farewell with sincere thanks for his hospital ity. The night ride to New Bedford was made without Incident. It was three o'clock when John knocked at Cap tain Horton's door; and, much to his surprise, that gruff old mariner was up and dressed. "Come in! I've been expectln ye!" he said as he opened the door. "Glad to meet ye. Joe," he said, turning to a sleepy-eyed boy, "take care of this lad's horse." John secured the contents of the saddle-bags, and an hour later stepped on board the Segregansett. Captain Horton showed him his quarters and advised him to "turn In." He did so, and when he awoke the heaving and groaning of the old whaler told him that she was on the open sea. Not until the Segregansett had left the Bermudas did John open the pack age which had been given to him by Peter Burt. It contained a long let ter from the old man, describing a spot in the California mountains, of which a dying sailor had told him years before. The poor fellow de clared that he had found a rich de posit of gold, and that he was work ing his way back to Boston, hoping to Interest the necessary capital. In Peter Burt's letter was enclosed a rough map which the sailor had sketched when he realized that death stood in the way of his dreams of wealth. There was also a parcel with an outer covering of oilskin. John unwrapped it and disclosed a large, old-fashioned wallet, which he recog nized as having belonged to his grand father. In this wallet he found a layer of United States Treasury notes of large denominations. His fingers tingled as he handled the notes. Tcp thousand dollars! Jessie seemed much nearer as John looked at those bits of paper. The scenes and Incidents of that eighteen ' thousand mile Journey around Cape Horn are worthy of ex tended recital, but are not an essen tial part of this narrative. One bright afternoon the Segregansett sailed Into the harbor of Valparaiso, and a week later John Burt was a passen ger on the steamer Reliance, bound for San Francisco. A thousand leagues away, Jessie Carden treasured the secret of a sen sation strangely akin to new-born love. On the walls of her class-room was a large map, and she loved to look at it and wonder what spot of land or sea held John Burt (To b continued.) An Unkind Question. It was shortly after the house com mittee of the Democratic club promul gated a resolution that evening dress should be worn by members and visi tors who dined or paid evening visits to the club, that Tom Dunn, the for mer sheriff, fell into a library arm chair one night Mr. Dunn's own garb would have passed muster at Marlborough House, so he looked around upon the throng In confidence and content There came a certain man of busi ness to the club that night who wore an evening suit which was well-fitting, expensive, and correct in detail. But he did not look comfortable. Pride kept him quiet for a few mo ments, at the end of which, pride caused him to ask: "How do you like it, Tom?" "It's immense," said Dunn; "why don't you buy it" New York Tele graph. , Uncle 8am as Foster Mother. A rural conscript during the civil war appeared before the board of en rollment and desired to be exempt that be might return to his country home. "What are your claims?" asked the doctor. "I am entirely dependent upon my mother for sdpport," was the Innocent reply. The members of the board smiled, and the doctor replied. "I am happy to assure you, my hon est hearted friend, that the govern ment Is prepared to at once relieve your mother of so unsuitable a burden and assume your entire charge aad expense during the next three years. POIJLTgYl Summer Care of Geese. Geese are very hardy birds, and it Is easy to keep them over summer. They should have access to plenty of green forage, plenty of water to drink. The adult birds need no shelter, and can live on grass alone, but they rel ish a little grain and should be fed a small quantity at least once a day. At night is a good time, after the chickens and turkeys have sought their perches. In late summer or early fall if the drouth dries up the grass geese need a little more grain. One must gauge the feed by the quant ity and succulency of the forage. Whole corn will do very well for the grain; that Is all we use. An adult goose seldom dies of any sickness. True, the very old birds drop off, but the per cent of loss Is re markably small with any reasonable care. The flock must be fed grain Bnd vegetables, clover or fodder dur ing the winter and early spring, be fore there Is green forage. The breed ing birds should be mated, one male to from one to three females. We put the different matlngs in separate lots, but they will do very well In flocks of ten to fifteen birds. It is natural for geese to choose but one mate, hence we must not attempt to make one male take too many females or we will not get the best results. Geese (our experience has been alto gether with the pure bred Toulouse) commence to lay early In March in our climate, time depending on weather conditions. A little straw thrown around In odd corners will furnish nesting for the geese. The female makes no attempt to hide her nest or slink away to it; she sits on it in full view, but she covers up the eggs. Robbing her nest has no effect on her, she will not change; she lays about every 36 hours. The eggs should be gathered sbon after laying, early In the season, or they will get chilled. Set them on end In a box of sawdust or excelsior In the cellar, or some cool place (not too cold), and keep till ready to set. Some turn the eggs dally, but we do not If they are to be kept only a reasonable time. We set them under chicken hens and rear the goslings with same hens. They hatch In 28 to 30 days; it eggs are kept warm enough 28 days Is suffi cient The little goslings should not be fed till they are 48 to 72 hours old; it Is no harm to let them nip a little grass or green vegotable tops earllor, as this will not hurt them. For the first week or two feed three or four times a day on a little corn bread soaked and crumbled, or a little chick food made Into a mash same as for young chicks. At first they are very dainty and eat very little, but In two or three weeks they are quite ravenous. Always give plonty of drinking water, but not to swim In. Keep them dry; see that they have a good warm coop with a dry board floor and that they are shut up warm and snug at night After they are ten days old they can be let range about on grass with their mother (whether she be goose or hen) or they can be raised in small board pens by moving them when forage becomes short. After about three weeks a mash of corn meal, a Bmall quantity of mid d lings or bran or both Is a good addi tion to the meal and will make a good grain food; feeding two or three times a day, according to size and the ability of the gosling to get for age. Remember a gosling Is helpless and tender till It gets Its feathers, but with good care and feed every lit tle downy bird can be raised, and, after they are three or four weeks old, one can feed them and rush growth to his heart's content provid ing water, forage and grit are at all times accessible. A good Toulouse gosling will weigh 8 or 9 pounds, while a chick of the same age will weigh from 1 to 2 pounds. No wonder the gosling eats. We have had them gain two pounds each in their ninth week. It Is best to get the goslings batched as early as there is grass for them, as they are safe from the hot dry weather of summer and tough grass; but early birds require attention and must not be exposed to the cold spring rains. We often have the kitchen full of the little follows In low flat boxes when It rains all day or for two or three days, and then a good tame chicken hen is the most desirable mother. They require lots of care, but when we get a gosling on Its feet (they can't walk for about 24 hours after batching) we count on a fine lusty goose the coming fall, and we seldom misj our count . We feed them all throui'i the summer at least once a day. By Christmas they weigh: fe males IS to 20 pounds; males, 18 to 25 pounds. Mrs1. B. F. Hlslop, Iroquois County, Illinois. The Deadly Chlcken-Mlte. During all the warm weather we must fight the deadly chicken mite. The hotter the weather the faster they breed. They are death to young chicks, where they can have the chance to Infest them, and aro even known to kill old tough bens. Often a hen house Is swarming with these little pests, end the hens with broods are permitted to hover their chicks in the houses at night The bens .nat urally hunt out some place In a cor ner and collect their broods. Nothing is seen of the mites at that time. Bui after the chlcka have settled down for the nli.lit the marauders come out of their hiding places under spllntera. boards, roosts and rubbish and swarm by tens of thousands on the old hens and chicks. They suck their fill of blood and crawl back to their hiding places. In the morning the poultry raiser sees nothing of these Insects and pays little attention to the piles of mites hanging like swarms of bees under the roosts. The chicks are so weakened that numbers of them fall down and die and the owner wonders what happened to them. The others, being bled every night are prevented from growing and become stunted, never recovering from this subjection to mites when they were young. There are different ways of attacking mites, one of which Is to wash the hen house with whitewash, and the other Is to give it a thorough going over with water in which has been dis solved a great deal of strong soap and a large amount of kerosene. Cabbages for Sheep. There may be objections to feeding cabbages to milch cows on account of tainting the milk, but there la no such objections with feeding them to sheep. Cabbages can be easily grown, espe cially where the soil Is a heavy but rich clay. In the discussion of this subject we have heard sheep men say that they could get more money out of their cabbages feeding them to sheep than In any other way. Of course that was In localities where markets were not easy to reach. Where the farmer lives near a rail road and can send his cabbages to Chicago and other big markets at lit tle cost, that way of disposing of them will be more profitable than in feed ing them to the sheep. But It must be remembered that where the sheep Interests are largest there are few railroads. A large tonnage of cab bages can be grown per acre, and many of our shepherds are finding this a profitable use to make of the ground. The cabbage has this advantage over most of our other green feeds that It can be kept for months and even into the dead of winter if It Is properly stored. This Is quite an advantage over even rape.' The Canadian farmers are tak ing advantage of this to lay la an nually good supplies of cabbages to feed to their sheep during winter, thus keeping their sheep In perfect condl tlon as to their digestive organs. Cab' bages can be grown In almost all parts of the country, and they grow best In the coolor sections, where they are most needed for winter food. Their value cannot be figured out from the tables the chemists give us, for their succulence is a valuable thing In Itself, but this has no value In the analysis of the chemist Light Feeds for Hogs. Light foods have a particular value for the hogs, possibly for the reason that most hogs get a too concentrated ration, The chemist In figuring out the relative value of roots, fruits and grains, Invariably shows that the grains contain large proportions of nutrients and that fruit and roots contain very little. But the roots and fruits have qualities that we have never yet been able to determine and are certainly worth far more than the chemist has boen able to discover. There Is an action on the general health and thrift of the animal that cannot be computed by weight, Roots and fruits tend to prevent both con stipation and Indigestion, and are In that quality medicine for the begs. The time of the year Is here when great quantities of windfall apples will be ordinarily left on the ground to rot These should be gathered up and fed to the pigs as soon as the ap ples got lure enough to be succulent. Many of the wormy apples and culls can later be disposed of in the same way. Sugar beets are particularly valuable, as they contain a large amount of saccharine matter, which helps in the fattening. Turnips also will prove of more value to the hogs than their analysis would seem to Indicate. American MI'k In Paris. It Is well worthy of note that at a spoclal show of perishable dairy prod ucts held as an annex to the Paris Exposition In July, 1900, Just outside the city limits, where French produ cers had every opportunity of exhib iting their goods In the best possible shape (although under unfavorable local conditions after reaching the ex hibit) there was a large collection of natural milk and cream, says Henry B. Alvord. But the only samples of these products absolutely free from chemical preservatives and uncooked, which weie aweet and palatalle after noon of the exhibition day, were from dairies In New York and New Jersey, then eighteen days from the cowl There was also In the United States dairy exhibit natural milk and cream from a farm In central Illinois, In bot tles exactly as sent dally to Chicago families, which was only very slightly acid, although twenty days old. It had kept sweet until the day before this show, and even later it was bet ter than the best normal French milk only twelve to twenty-four hours after milking. Light In the Hone Stables. The most modern stables are ar ranged with the idea of giving the horse an abundance of light In aiany of these the heads of the horses are toward the outer walls and there is a window In the side of the stable op posite each stall. Light la a factor that' makes for good health, and there is little danger of having too much of it. In the summer time these win tows are covered with screens and the Ties kept out while the summer breezes come In. There sre numerous old stables now dark that might be made light by some Inexpensive alter ations. These should be made as early lu the season as possible. Tom sire is the potent factor in breeding. AND Qualified. The young man was applying for a position as drug clerk. "And you consider yourself compe tent to stand In a pharmacy?" inter rogated the proprietor. "I should say so," responded the young man. "I can smile at babies, hand out ten almanacs a second, un derstand the soda-water wink, paste stamps on envelopes, hunt up names In the directory and listen to. every one's troubles." "You'll dol , Dust off the tooth, brushes." Proper Resentment Archie I don't see you out with Miss Flutty any more. Fweddy No: I ask wed her the other day If she thought Bhe could learn to love me, and Bhe lawfed and said, "Not In a thousand years!" That made me mad, and I said, baw Jove, I wasn't going to waste my time go ing to see her any morel And I'm not, either, baw Jove I Agreed at Last Amanda "Do you remember tea years ago, when you confessed your love for me, how cruelly I refused you? I'm older now, and think differ ently." Algernon "Well er so do L" Her Private Opinion. , "No, ma'am," said the hobo who was figuring on a handout, "I ain't no reg' lar tramp. I wuz a sailor free years ergo, but mo ship got wreckt an' I was washed ashore." "And It's a safe bet," retorted the unsympathetic fomale, "that you ain't beon washed since." Ingratitude. Uncle Ephr'm was trying to sell his mule. "No, suh," he said, "dls mewol wouldn' kick nobody. Sho's pufllckly gentle. Ain't got no bad tricks. Any woman kin hitch 'er up an' whoa dar, you ongrateful beast! Quit dat cavortln'I Don't you bean how I'M lyln' about yuh?" , Pot and Kettle. "That follow townsman of yours," remarked the New Yorker, "hasn't much Idea of table manners." ' "No," replied the Chlcagoan, "I no ticed that. Why, the other day I see him use the same knife for his pU that ho'd used to eat his peas with." Much Harder. "It's a very sweet lullaby," said th musician's friend. "I suppose It was protty hard to compose It." . "Oh, not very,." replied the musi cian; "I can Imagine harder things." "That's so; composing a baby that you sing It to, for Instance." He Must Go. Mme. Prima "I must gel a di vorce." Mme. Donna "Why, I thought your baaband was such an amiable man." Mme. Prima "He Is; but he and Fldo snore In discord, and I can't stand It!" Over and Over. "Well," said Morrell, speaking of the domlse of a mutual friend, "a man can only die once and " "I don't know about that" Inter rupted Wiseman. "I see by the pa pers that the youngest drummer-boy to enter the Union service Is dead again." A real Old Actor. Ascun. Your father was an actor,, you say." Bragg Certainly. Bragg, the tra gedian, you kbow. Ascum Funny I never heard ot him. He played "HamW of courser Bragg Sure! He originated tha part mil if '