The Manitowoc pilot. [volume], February 08, 1900, Image 11

About The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932

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I ACK'S grandpapa to
grandmamma
Once sent a piece
pr**'' j ’Twaslongago, when
And she, of course,
Rj) He put within the
letter,
And even helped him choose the seal,
Two hearts bound with a fetter.
“The rose Is red, the violet's blue.
Sugar Is sweet, and so are you."
And Jack's papa sent to martima,
When he was just eleven.
The same rhyme for a valentine.
She being aged seven.
The envelope was tinted pink.
And up within one corner,
With bow and arrows, wings and rH,
Sat Cupid, little scorner.
■“The rose is red, the violet’s blue,
Sugar Is sweet, and so are you.”
And Master Jack shot out last night
As swift as any rocket,
But not before I caught a glimpse
Of something In his pocket.
It was a letter—-bless the boy!—
And I knew In a minute,
The next day was Saint Valentine’s,
And so, just what was in it.
“The rose is red, the violet's blue.
Sugar is sweet, and so are you.”
—Eleanor A. Hunter, in Golden Days.
SPINSTER'S
VALENTINE.
\ \jGr iaf f ITTI.K Joey Joyce
A • came hurrying up
and cinders lead
ing from the gate
to Mis* Dryden’s front door. Miss Hot
ly had seen him come in at the gate
and she had opened the door before he
had reached it.
“Well, my faithful little rhail car
"I’VE SEEN THAT WRITING BEFORE.”
rier,” she said, “you have a letter for
me, haven’t you?”
Joey's smile developed into an actual
grin, as said:
“No'n , it ain’t no letter. It’s some
thing better than a letter.”
He had been tugging away at his
reefer with his mittened bands as he
spoke, and he now brought out a large,
square, elaborately embossed envelope,
addressed in an apparently disguised
hand to Miss Hetty Dryden.
“There!” said Joey, triumphantly, as
he held out the envelope; “who do you
reckon sent it?”
“Someone with little, to do,” said
M iss Hetty, rather severely. She was
far from being acrid or severe in her
apecch, but she felt rather annoyed as
she looked at the missive in her hand.
Someone, she thought, was taking lib
erties with her, or, perhaps, holding
her up to ridicule, and, kind and gentle
ns she was, she had spirit enough to
resent either offense.
“Why don’t you open it?" asked Joey.
“Oh, I will presently,” she said.
She got Joey a seed cake and he went
on his way, disappointed and a little re
bellious because Miss Hetty had not
opened the envelope containing- the vnl
-entine in his presence.
Hetty sat down by her work table and
took a pair of -small, shining scissors
from her workbasket. The frown had
some back to her face, which still had
a youthful look, although she would
be 39 her next birthday. There were
but few strands of gray in the shining
brown hair lying in natural waves over
her white temples. She had not yet
■“come to glasses,” and the little excite
ment of receiving the valentine had
filled her brown eyes with a sparkle
and brightness and brought a flush
to her cheeks that made Miss Hetty
a very pretty woman at that moment.
Indeed there were those in the village
who declared that Hetty Dryden was
a “mighty good-lookin’ woman” at any
time. It was her choice that she was
a spinster, living- alone in her little
white and green house at the end of
the long village street. Had she been
given to such vulgar boasting she
could have told her friends that she
had had “plenty of chances.” Indeed.it
would have taken all of the fingers and
even the thumb of her plump right
hand for Hetty Dryden to have “count
ed up” the offers she had had right
there in Hebron during the past 20
yea -s. More than one elderly widower
har. gone disconsolately from her gate
during even the last five years, cha
grined and rebellious because Miss Het
ty firmly, but kindly, declined to
change her name.
The last rejected suitor had been
Hiram Dyer, a widower of but eight
months and the possessor of eight “aw
ful” children who had undoubtedly
been largely instrumental in worrying
and wearying their poor mother into
her grave.
, “Mebbe this is from Hiram Dyer,”
Hetty Dryden said, as she snipped off
the end of the envelope containing the
valentine. “He said I'd hear from him
again. If I felt sure it came from him.
I’d send it back. I don’t want him nor
his valentine, cither.”
The valentine that Miss Hetty drew
from the envelope was not made of
paper lace and tinsel and embossed
doves and flowers. It was instead a
squarly-foldcd sheet of blue lined note
paper, on which was written in an evi
dently disguised hand:
"This night at eight, •
For to know his fate,
Your valentine will wait
At your front gate.
It from your cast window
A light doth shine.
He will enter in ’
To claim his valentine.
If all is dark
He will go away,
heaving forever unsaid
What he wants to say.
O, be not cruel nor unkind.
But let a light shine
For your valentine.”
The flush in Hetty Dryden’s cheeks
deepened as she let the bit of paper
fall to her lap.
“Such nonsense! I’d probably never
hoar the end of it if I was goose enough
to really set a light in my east win
dow. Hut I’m not going to. Seems to
me I’ve seen writing like that be
fore.”
She held the sheet of paper out and
looked at it quizzically, with her head
twisted a little on one side.
“It doesn't seem possible that any
man in his right mind would do any
thing so silly as to make tip a jingle like
that and send it to a woman, even if
nc meant if. • I just wonder who did
write that?”
When a woman's curiosity is fully
aroused, nothing hut the facts in the
case will satisfy her, and Miss Hetty
was annoyed to find herself growing
more and more curious regarding the
identity of the sender of the valen
tine.
• ** “It’d be serving him right if I set a
light in my window to lure him on,
and then dash a dipper of cold water
over him when he came to the door,”
she said, with unwonted severity. “I
just ought to—now that writing does
look kind o’ familiar, even if it is wrote
back-handed with a view to conceal
ing it.”
She had slipped the sheet of paper
into a drawer of her work-table, and
now she took it out and looked at it
again.
“I've seen that writing before,” she
said positively. "Now I’m just going to
set here an’ look at it until I’ve stud
ied it out where I've seen it.”
She put aside her sewing and sat
very still gazing at the sheet of paper
spread out in her lap, Having once
formed a resolution, Hetty Dryden
clung- to it tenaciously, even though ‘it
was of trifling importance. For fully
ten minutes she sat looking at the writ
ing in different lights. Then a sug
gestion of a smile came info her face,
and her eyes twinkled merrily. She
laid the letter on her table and walked
across the exquisitely neat little room
to an old-fashioned mahogany book
case. Opening the glass cloor of the
book-ease, Miss Hetty stepped upon a
hassock and took down a small vol
ume of Byron’s poems bound in green
and gold. Opening the book, she read
on the yellow-tinted fly-leaf:
“To Miss Hetty Dryden, with many
good wishes for a merry Christmas and
a happy New Year, from her friend
and well wisher, Jared H. Lawson."
The writing was eight years old, and
Hetty had not looked at it for at least
half that time, but the moment her
eyes rested on it she said with convic
tion:
“It is the same.”
Taking the book over to her work
table and sitting down again, she laid
the sheet of note paper down by the
fly leaf on which the inscription was
written.
“Yes, sir; Jared Lawson,” she said,
“you wrote them both. The capital let
ters are just alike in botn of them, al
though you have tried to disguise your
writing in your precious jingling po
etry. I’ve found you out, you great
goose, you!”
But there was a smile on her face
and a kindly light in her eyes as she
spoke the unflattering words.
Jared Lawson was proprietor of the
only news or periodical stand in the
town. lie was a short, slightly portly
man, rather bald, with a smooth, plump
and kindly face. His blue eyes betok
ened honesty and sincerity, and he had
almost womanly gentleness of spirit
and manner, ifis 45 years had been full
of deeds of kindness and the old ladies
of Hebron were never tired of tolling
of how “awfully good” he had always
been, to his mother, who had been a
feeble, fretful, exacting and complain
ing old body for years before her death.
It was held to be true that Jared had
not married because he “couldn’t leave
mother,” and because he very well
knew that no woman could live hap
pily with her. .
The old lady had now been dead six
months and Jared was living alone in
the four rooms his mother and he had
for years occupied above his store. It
was a lonely and unsatisfactory life for
a man of Jared's home-loving and
strongly domestic instincts to lead.
“Poor Jared!” said Miss Hetty, as
she read the jingling rhyme for the
fourth time. "He must, be dreadful
lonesome since his mother died. He’s
a good man, Jared is. Any man who
will be as good as he was to that fretful,
frying old mother of his for 25 years
is a mighty good man. I was there a
lot during the old lady’s last illness and
it was wonderful how gentle and pa
tient he was. And so he wants me for
his valentine, does e? He certainly
would be more comfortable here than
in those four little rooms he’s been
batching in over Ids store. And I—
well, I'll own up that I feel kind o’
lonely myself .ometimes, and I—l—
always liked Jared.”
She sat for a long time with her
hands crossed in her lap and a sweetly
serious, almost wistful expression on
her face.
At five minutes before eight a short,
rather stout man was standing at Miss
Hetty’s gate looking toward the win
dow in her east room. There was no
light in the window.
“I'm an old fool to think a woman,
like her would set a light in her win
dow for any man, as a hint for him to
come in and propose to her,” said the
man to himself. “I wish I’d signed my
name to my fool rhyme, or that I had
the courage to go in. If there isn’t a
light in that window by eight o'clock
I’ll go in and own up that I sent her
that valentine. A man that hasn't the
courage to ask a woman to marry him,
don’t deserve her and—glory halleloo
yer!”
A bright ray of light came stream
ing across the snow from the window
of the cast room. Jared Lawson tugged
at the gate, which did not open readily,
and finally he climbed over the low
fence and ran toward the door calling
out like a happy child.
“Hetty! Hetty! O, Hetty!”
The door opened before he reached
it and Hetty stood there in the light ii
a cherry colored gown and snowy white
apron, a smile on her face and her eyes
shining.
Jared’s voice trembled and there was
a suggestion of fear in it ns he said:
“O, Hetty, it is I—Jared Lawson.”
“I know it, Jared,” said Hetty, laugh
ingly. ~
“And you put that light in the win
dow for me, Hetty?” "
“For you, Jared.” ' •
“O, Hetty! God bless you, my—my
—dear!”
He reached out his hand to clasp her
own and to hold it to his lips. Then
they r went into the house together with
the light of new-born love radiating
from their hearts and faces.—Morris
Wade, in Detroit Free Press.
VICTIM OF THE VALENTINE.
He sent his love a valentine,
And he sent one to the cook;
Somehow, he mixed the envelopes—
You can see It In his look.
His love received the comic thin*
The cook was to have had;
A dream of bliss Is ended, but
The cook Is not so sad.
—Chicago Dally News.
The Slab. “ ’
Man hates the cotnlo valentine—
Because, In sooth,
He always knows that It contains
A grain of truth.
—Brooklyn Llfs,
HUMOROUS.
“They call clambakes now Dewey
breakfasts.” “Why so?” “Because
they’re eaten between shells.”—What
to Eat.
Mudge—“l can’t help suspecting the
sincerity of n man that always agrees
with me.” Yabsley—“l should think
you would suspect his sanity.”—lndian
apolis Press.
Hogan—“Do you belave in dreams,
Mike?” Dugan—“Faith an’ I do!
Lasht night 1 dromt I was awake an’ in
the mortiin’ me drem kem thrue.” —
Princeton Tiger,
“Did your grandmother remember
you in her will?” “Yes, she had a clause
in there instructing the executors to
collect all the loans she had made me.”
■—Baltimore News.
A mother teaching her child to tell
time explained, one I stands for one,
two I's for two, three I’s for three, and
so on, and then asked: “What time is it
now, darling?" “The big hand is at one
I and the little hand at cross I’s!" ex
claimed the little one.—Youth's Com
panion.
Parental Diplomacy.—“But what are
your objections to the young man?”
asked the mother. “None,” answered
the other half of the management of
the young woman. “Then why did you
refuse his request for Ethel's hand?”
“Only for the dear child's good. If h
has any' spirit at all, he will go ahead
and marry her anyhow, and if he don’t
she is well rid of him."—lndianapolis
Press.
A retired farmer, after re’urning
from a continental lour —on which he
had long set his heart —was narrating
one evening to his friend, the doctor,
how he had visited “the majestic Lake
of Geneva, and trodden the banks of
Blue Leman.” "Excuse me,” inter
rupted the doctor, “Lake Geneva and
Lake Leman are synonymous.” “That,
my dear sir,” replied the farmer, “I
know very well; but are you aware
that Lake Leman is the more synony
mous of the two?”—Bombay Guardian.
WOES OF THE PRETTY WOMAN
She Hnn Her Trouble* the Sniuc an
Her Sinter of I’lnluer Fea
ture!.
The pretty woman has her woes as
well as her plainer sister.
"Do you know, 1 think that plain
women have the Lest of it, after .ill,”
it marked a woman who is so unde
niably pretty Ihat she can afford to
talk despondently about it. “Take the
woman in business, for instance. Who
would worry' about a pretty woman’s
success? A man admires her for tier
appearance or else doesn’t think about
her. His sense of chivalry isn’t trou
bled, because he thinks everyone else
will be nice and considerate to a pret
ty girl. As far ns business is con
cerned bo doesn't think about her at
all. He considers, on principle, that
a pretty woman isn’t useful or clever.
On the other hand, a very plain worn*
qii, who has neither beauty, style nor
manner, is apt to rouse his sympathy.
She may not want it, of course, but
he unconsciously thinks: ‘Well, here’s
a girl with odds against her. I’ll give
her a ciiance.’ If she proves clever it
doesn’t come ns such a surprise ns
when the pretty woman proves that
she is not entirely devoid of intelli
gence. Then men distrust (lie pretty
woman and women envy her and she
always gets credit for being design
ing and vain, whether she is or not.
All of this does not render her posi
tion in life very genial, if sh is poor
and comparatively' alone in fan world,
and if she adds graces of mind and
charm of manner to beauty ot face
and figure she is not apt to make
many well meaning friends."
“Seems to me you arc rather bitter
this morning," observed tha pretty
woman's friend. “Which ‘spiteful cat’
has been criticising you now, 1 won
der?”
“None. They don’t bother me very
much. I was just thinking of the
trials and woes I have had which are
directly' traceable to what people call
my ‘piquante face.’ If I were hand
some it would be different. 1 could
be majestic and awe-inspiring then,
but I am only just ornamental enough
to look useless in an office or a school
loom and not sufficiently dazzling to
pose as a professional beauty. I don’t
care to be a typewriter or go on the
stage, and in all other professions
good looks seem to be a drawback. I
mean it. They may enable one to get
positions easily. But do they help one
to keep them? I tried teaching small
children once. Their mother accused
me of flirting with her husband- a
short, stout, apoplectic man of 50—
because lie remarked in her hearing
that 1 was a fine looking girl. Men
—the most of men whom my sisters
have married—don’t marry really
pretty girls. They marry plain girls
with pretty points, girls whose looks
depend a great deal upon tlie way
they dress their hair or pub on their
clothes. The ave-age man fights shy
of a beautiful wife. I shall probably
end by marrying on old gentleman
who wants an attractive person to
preside at bis dinner table.”
And then she sighed and put on her
bat—without looking in the mirror.—
Chicago Chronicle.
Tin- Newsboy's lleply,
A wizened-faced newsboy climbed on
a Detroit street car the other evening
and worming his way past the conduc
tor, walked down the aisle yelling:
“Las' edition—all about Sigler brud
ders findin’ de tray of dlmons!”
He sold several papers, and when tin
was passing out a man looked around
and yelled to him:
“Say, boy, where did they flut that
tray?"
The youngster paused in the door
way.
“In a pack o’ cards!” he shouted
back, and disappeared. Cleveland
Plain Dealer.
THE LITTLE GRUMBLER.
He begins In the morning to grumble.
He says that he’s called too soon,
And he’ll keep right on while dressing
With the same old whining tune.
Then when he goes to his breakfast,
If It don’t suit, how he'll growl!
When you do your best to please him
He Is very apt to scowl.
When his hands and face you’re washing.
He careful!—he’s sure to cry;
He don't see the use of such rubbing,
He says, with a dreadful sigh.
But still don’t call him dirty,
If his hands and face are soiled,
For it greatly offends this fellow,
Who by grumbling may be spoiled.
Yes, dear little grumbler, remember
That when you become a man,
This fretting will then be chronic,
It you don’t stop It now, while you can.
If you only could see, my darling,
That from care your life Is now free;
By and by will come the trials—
Very happy now you should be.
■vNMce Penney Hurd, In N. W. Christian
Advocate.
SUBDUED BY A BOY.
(Blmt Tlkpp Allcmvh lllinn*lf to 110 Led
Hack to IIIn Cri* by a Lame
Little Von neuter.
One day, in the Royal Zoological gar
dens of London, a man who had been
making some repairs to the cage con
taining a large tiger went away, leav
ing the door unfastened. It seemed ns
if the tiger had been watching for this,
for hardly had the man departed when
the savage beast sprang out. The ani
mal house was full of people, and men,
women and children shouted and
screamed and fled for their lives. Pres
ently there was only one person left
in the place, and that was u lame boy
who could not run. The tiger snarled
and growled and crouched down for
a spring, but the boy stood in his tracks
and looked the savage beast straight
in the eyes. He had read in a book Hint
if you look a beast full in the face lie
will not attack you. Thus boy and
tiger stood for a long minute, ami then
tlie tiger slowly walked up to the boy
■ —■
pp.yp- •——■ *
(| I 1 111 II II II I
LAME BOY LEADING A TIGER.
and licked his hand, and rubbed against
his legs. One of the keepers threw a
rope to (lie boy and called out:
“D( n’t be afraid! Tie the rope around
his neck and he will let you lead him
back to his cage,"
The boy obeyed, and a minute later
lie had the tiger hack in his cage and
the door fastened. Then a great shout
went up from the people,‘and all came
running in. No doubt the Iml was bad
ly frightened, ns any man would have
been, but lie had captured the tiger,
and it was right that he should
be praised and made much of. He was
given so many pieces of silver tint lie
went home with all his pockets bulg
ing out, and I am glad to tell you that
lie used tin's money to help educate
himself, and (hat when lie grew up
to manhood he became a great doctor.
—Chicago inter Ocean.
CANARY WAS VAIN.
Wanted to Me I'ltl In a* Fine and
(• 111 (<■ rl uu I line a* III* More
Fortunate It I till*.
“Do you know,” said the observant
gentleman, “that, with the exception
of a peacock, I believe a canary bird is
the vainest of all creatures?” Both my
wife and myself are very fond of pets,
and we keep several of these little
songsters always in the house.
“Ore of the cages was very old, hav
ing been in tiie family for years, and
was used as much for tradition’s as for
economy's sake.
“1 had frequently remarked to my
wife that I believed the occupant of
tliis cage was ashamed of his shabby
dwelling place, and observed with en
vious eyes the fact that the other song
tiers were more artistically lodged.
"Eventually the old cage collapsed,
and it became necessary to purchase
anew one. in order to test my belief
in the Intelligence of my feathered
friend I made it a point to get him
tiie prettiest little brass house that I
could find.
“The effect was magical. No sooner
was he turned into hi>- new house than
he begun to sing as lie bad never sung
before, con*>-rtely drowning out the
music of tin )ther birds, and behaving
otherwise in a manner altogether be
coming his sudden rise in life.”- N.
World.
Shoe Trail)* with Mexico.
According to the best .tatisties avail
able, says the Mexican Herald, over
$300,000 worth of American shoes were
sold iu Mexico during 1809.
BOY AND ELEPHANT.
Little Prince Umiro and Vila
Life Anion* the Animals of
a Tropical Koreat.
“The Hoy am* the Elephant” is thd
title of an interesting story in St.
Ni<'>'cl.is. iheanthor, Gustavus J rank*
enstein, tells of the kidnaping- of a boy
by a wild beast that treated him kind
ly. The opening paragraphs describe
the abduction and the experience*
that immediately followed it.
It was on the bank of a beautiful
river, and they stood looking at each
other, little Nooro and the noble ele
phant that had saved his life from a
crocodile. The elephant gently wound
its trunk around the body of the littla
boy, and, taking him up, went away
through the thicket into the deep
jungle. Nooro had seen tame ele
phants, and was at first not
but as he was carried along through
the forest he became uneasy. “I want
NOOItO IS FED UY THE ELEPHANT.
to go to my mamma!" he cried. Of
course the elephant did not know
what he meant. Besides, he had Ids
own notions of what he ought to do
with the boy; and so he went on.
Over high lulls and across deep val
leys want the elephant with long,
swinging steps.
Ity and by he set the child down, be
cause he wanted to eat the leaves of
some young palm trees. Nooro start
ed to run away, but the elephant took
him tip and placed him high up in tho
fork of a tree, and then Nooro began
to cry. The elephant pa id no atten
tion to his crying, and while eating
would reach up to him a bit of the fod
der, but Nooro only cried the louder.
When he had eaten all ho wanted, the
elephant took him down from the ♦ reu
and went onward (ill they came to a
spring, where he took a good drink,
after having again put Nooro in a tree.
Then taking up the hollow husk of n
large nut lying on the ground, ha
dipped up some water and lifted it to
Nooro, and the little fellow, being
very thirsty, drank heartily. This
pleased the elephant very much.
Leaving the spring, it was not long
before they were under some tall trees
bearing fruit. Nooro knew the fruit
quite well, and was fond of it. The ele
phant, too, liked it very much, and,
reaching high up with his trunk,
brought some of it down, which ho ata
with great relish. Me did not forget
the little boy, again perched aloft in
the fork of a tree, and to him he gave
fruit as fast as he could eat. And now
more than ever was the elephant
pleased not so much because ho was
rating what he himself liked, but be*
cause the child ate also. Beside*
fruits, they also had nuts bf several
sorts.
When the sun went down and tho
darkness came on, Nooro begun oneo
more to think of his mother, and that
made him cry; but at length he fell
asleep. Then the elephant spread on
the ground some large palm leaves
and soft, dry grass, making Nooro n
kind of bed. When he awoke in tho
morning (he little hoy again thought
of his mamma and cried; but us cacU
day passed he cried le* and less.
The e lephant had placed him in a
large j ( Mean's nest, made of a great
many sticks, and so high up ia tho
branches of a tall tree that he could
just reach it with his trunk and put
Nooro into it. But when it rained
very hard the elephant would tako
Nooro from his nest and place him un
der his body, closing his huge legs
around him, and setting up great,
broad palm leaves on each side of him,
and it was a rare thing that a drop of
rain fell into the snog shelter when*
Nooro was co/.ily nestling. Sometimes
these heavy showers lasted for hours.
While (he rain came down in torrents,
he would peep out to see the monkeys
and the squirrels running for shelter
among the trees and branches.
With these creatures he soon was on
the best of terms. The monkeys grew
very fond of him, and when he was
up in his nest they would come to him
with choice fruits and nuts, on pur
pose to see him eat. Besides, they
brought the little baby monkeys to
pUiy with him; and nothing afforded
them greater sport than to see him
try to climb after the young monkeys
as they bounded from limb to limb;
and, out of sheer joy, the older ones
themselves would scamper up and
down among the branches.
Certainly this was not the best so
ciety for a child to grow up in; but if
lie did not learn his letters, he grew
strung and active.
A Fimr-LpKifvd ( rlmliml.
A mastiff was trained to assist
thieve* in Paris. It was in the habit
of bounding against old gentlemen and
knocking them over in the street. A
“lady " and "gentleman”—owners of tho
dog would then step forward tqjas
sist the unfortunate gentleman to riso
and while doing so would ease ki ui of
Lis watch uud purse. I