The St. Charles herald. [volume], December 07, 1918, Image 4

About The St. Charles herald. [volume] (Hahnville, La.) 1873-1993

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Finds a Five Hundred Dollar Ring in a Giant Codfish
QAX FRANCISCO. —Seafaring men, friends of H. C. Dally, a fisherman wlio
has just returned from Bering sea, contend along the waterfront here that
Daily is entitled to a medal with a palm or two on it, and for two reasons
Either he is the luckiest man that ever
S.
(Sw jMp
w.-nt fishing, or he is the biggest fish
ing trip Ananias in or out of captiv
ity. lint let Daily tell his own story.
"See this ring?" he asked the oth
er day of a small group of friends, at
the same time exhibiting a solitaire
diamond in platinum setting that hud
evidently been worn by a woman, and
which was inscribed "From C. to J."
upon the inside.
"It's a daisy, isn't it?" was Daily's
next question, which he answered him
self iij saying: "It sure is, and I'll tell ye how I got it. I was up in the Bering
s<a (leaning codfish at the rate of three a minute and paying no particular
a tention to anything else, when suddenly I picked up the biggest codfish I'd
ever seen in me lifetime. He was a beauty, too. Fat? The fattest I'd ever
handled.
All right, mates. I plumped by knife into him and was just about to
pass him along when something shiny in his 'Inards' caught my eye. It was this
? es ' s * r ' same sparkler that I'm a-showin' you.
"Now, lads; how'd tliat ring get In that fish's stomach? Whose ring is it,
or whose was it, anyway? I'm willing to return the ring to the owner, but
ownership must be satisfactorily established, as the stone alone is worth $500,
a Jeweler tells me. Yes, sir, 500 beans—simoleons—piasters.
"I'm going to look up a brainy newspaper feller—if there are any brainy
ones left, now that the smart guys nre all at the front or getting ready to go
there—and have him write a story about it, und niebbe I'll get u nice reward,
anwuy, if the owner is found."
Akron Deaf-Mute's Experience in an Army Camp
A KRON, OHIO.—One of the most interesting army experiences that has come
from any training camp is the one tliat has just been reported of Hinton
Wilson, a rubber worker employed by a local tire company, who for a month
was detained at Camp Sherman, sus
j£t
ü>
mb! DortT
s talk back
EmK-J
ing on war materials that are helping
to equip our armies In France.
"I was registered in Atlanta," Wil
son said after his release, using sign
language, "but requested a transfer
where I was working. One night 1
found a squad of hnsky khaki-clad lads
awaiting my return from work, who
became incensed at my Inability to answer their questions, and unceremoni
ously hauled me before the examining surgeon. I was pronounced physically
sound and the next morning was hustled off to camp, where the boys, taking
their cue from the officers, regarded me as a contemptible slacker.
"Fortunately a deaf brother of one of the hoys paid a visit to the camp,
and, after talking with me in sign language, assured my comrades that I was
deaf. Their attitude toward me immediatley changed and they treated me
royally thereafter, doing everything possible to make things pleasant for me.
"They wake«} me at reveille and usually connived to get me in the second
rank at drills, so that my mistakes would not be so readily observed by the
officer, and that I might have the advantage of imitating the movement of the
men in the front rank. But occasionally I landed in the front rank, and I
suppose I am fortunate that I could not henr the bawlings out I received from
the officer when I marched blithely forward while the rest of the company
executed a 'right about face.' "
UP HANDS
BEETLES
"Ernie, the Bug Shooter," Now Eleven-Year-Old Thug
K ANSAS CITY.—The glare of the arc light at Twelfth and Charlotte streets
four years ago disclosed a small boy seated on the curbing. His chubby
fists grasped a revolver, his fingers tugging at the trigger. The officers heard »
Childish cry "Up hands—beetles !"
The boy smiled as a patrolman
Jerked him to his feet. Ernest Hard
wick, seven years old, living at 620
East Twelfth street, with his "mamma
and step-papa," said he "wanted to
be a hold-up mans," Since then the
boy has been known as "Ernie, the Bug
Shooter."
In 1914 he stole a coat belonging
to a woman neighbor. In 1915 Ernest
was paroled from the McCune Home.
Then Ernest was arrested for steal
ing a box of candy. A month later he took three packages of tea from a
grocer. And in another month he robbed a creamery company of several but*
ter packages. Ilis parole was revoked, but he escaped from the home.
Ernest pleaded guilty the other day to robbing a jewelry store, a saloon
and a cigar store. He was assisted by two other boys, Paul E. Buck, nine
years old, 1016 Locust street, and James Swearingen, nine years old, 4342
West Prospect place. In a "play house" in the back yard of 81G Locust street
the police recovered most of the stolen articles.
"I'm the oldest—eleven years," Ernest told the judge. "I've got more
sense thun they. Send me to jail, judge, but don't be hard on Jimmie and
Paul—they ain't to blame."
Judge Southern sentenced Ernest to the McCune Home for four years.
Jimmie and Paul were paroled to their mothers.
"Ernest," said Mrs. Swearingen, "Mrs. Buck and I want to thank
you--"
t "Gwan," said "Ernie."
m
Milwaukee Has Young Amateur Probation Officer
■MILWAUKEE._To be a probation officer, one should start very young. At
M îenst t h a t was the information revealed in Judge Karel's juvenile court
when Jimmie, fourteen years old, faced the tribunal on a charge of exercising
"a little too much authority." It was
a charged he had punished Billy, a ten*
* year-old boy.
^ However, had Jimmie not repeated
<$ the process of punishing Billy the case
might never have been brought to
<=+" light.
While playing near North avenue
and Fortieth street Billy spied a pile
of cement blocks and not seeing any
one near he proceeded to smash up
one of the blocks. That was his sin.
Jimmie, the ardent protector ot
properly holders' rights, the amateur sleuth and probation oflleer. was leaning
against a post with his bicycle by his side. When Billy sauntered down tht
street, Jimmie rode after him.
"My father's a detective," Jimmie said when he reached Billy. I saw
you breaking those blocks. You must either go with me to the detention horns
or take a licking." , , . .
But Billy was in fear of the detention home, so choosing the lesser of two
evils he decided to take the "licking." He was to meet Jimmie the next day
to receive his punishment. At the appointed time Billy was there and ac
companied Jimmie to Washington park, where In a clump of bushes he felt
the blows of the "law." , , . _
He was then made to report with his reader. This time he was taken to
a Dond on the West side where, after removing his clothes, he sat. according
to orders and read to Jimmie. However, his reading was not quite "up to
scratch " Jimmie said, and as a result Billy was tied to n tree and left alone.
He was found by a schoolteacher and a complaint was filed against Jimmie,
Jimmie was released on probation after he promised to behave and no!
take It upon himself to inflict punishment on younger boys:
Maxwell's
Harvest
By CLAPJSSA MACKÎE
(Copyright, 1318, by McClure Newspaper
Syndicate.)
Maxwell stood with folded arms
watching his house burn to the ground.
In tin* grove of chestnuts negro serv
ants ran to and fro, dragging tin* pre
cious family heirlooms away from the
blistering heat of the fire.
Mahogany and glass and china and
silver, pictures and carpets, formed a
miscellaneous pile representing all tin*
home that was left to the last of the
Maxwells.
The long drought and its consequent
lack of water told the story to the
neighbors gathered about the young
master who looked with brooding eyes
on the scene of devastation. The
nearest neighbor had galloped five
miles when the first glare of light at
midnight had declared the alarm of
fire.
He stood at Maxwell's elbow, pant
ing with the exertion of his long ride,
a strange look of triumph on his fat
face.
"I'm sorry for you, old man," he
said with an air of heartiness. "You've
certainly had the devil's own luck!
First, the failure of your cotton—then
Blue Jeans dropping dead on the track
when he was marked for a winner and
lastly—"
Maxwell waved an impatient hand.
"Spare me a recitation of my a 114it*
tlons, Seymour," he said dryly. 'There
isn't one item I have overlooked, I as
sure you ! Not even the fact tliat the
insurance will exactly pay off the
mortgage !"
Seymour's face settled into heavy
lines of ill-concealed satisfaction. "Oh
I say, I wasn't thinking of that, you
know, Maxwell, although I must say
I can find a use for the five thousand
dollars I loaned your uncle. It's been
tied up in that mortgage for fifteen
years and I don't see any more show
of its'being paid off now than before
he died—-though you've tried hard to
do it, I'll admit ! Everything's against
you, Maxwell. Better clear out and
start anew."
John Maxwell did not reply, ne was
staring straight into the heart of the
fire with troubled dark eyes. The
outer framework of the house had
crumbled in with the walls and lay
palpitating center of white heat.
Above it arose the six dark towering
stone chimneys—unharmed by the
flames.
In the heart of the fire John saw
fair face crowned with golden hair,
and the blue eyes that looked so sadly
into his pronounced him a failure. He
groaned as he turned again to his
companion.
"You're right, Seymour—I'll clear
out and start over again somewhere
else. There isn't much chance for a
Northerner in the South anyway." Ills
eyes drifted back to the tire now dying
down into smoldering embers.
A train of dark figures went cease
lessly to and fro between the grove
and the cabins of the servants. Max
well's furniture would soon find hum
bler quarters.
"Cisterns empty, I suppose?" ven
tured Seymour after a while.
"Almost dry—couldn't draw a gallon
in time to do any good. I don't know
how it started—from the kitchen fire,
probably. All I know is—this!" He
swept liis hands toward the ruins of his
home and it was intercepted by the
touch of a soft, cool palm.
"I'm so sorry, Mr. Maxwell,"
breathed Eleanor Lee at his side. Clad
in riding habit and with her golden
hair uncovered to the night wind she
had stolen from her bed to be beside
him in his trouble.
"Eleanor! Go home at once!" com
manded Seymour angrily. "This is no
place for you."
"I'll ride back with you, stepfather,"
said Eleanor, looking down from her
saddle at his perturbed countenance
plainly visible in the glare from the
smoldering ruins. Again she turned
to the young man beside her.
"You will build again, Mr. Maxwell,"
6he said decisively.
Maxwell laughed shortly. "I cannot,
Miss Lee. This fire beggars me. Mr.
Seymour will take the land off my
hands."
"And you?" There was forced indif
ference in her tone.
"Begin over again."
"Here?"
"No. I shall return to the North."
There ensued a long sileDce while
the three looked at the glowing embers
of what had once been the finest man
sion in West Virginia.
"If there's nothing we can do to help
you, Maxwell, we better go home.
Won't you make the Hall your head
quarters until—" Seymour paused
awkwardly.
"Until I clear out?" Maxwell's laugft
was not pleasant to hear. "Thank you,
no, Seymour—I'll find a shakedown
somewhere on the plantation as long
as I am here." His voice trailed husk
ily into silence.
Seymour mouuted his horse and
turned into the avenue. "Come, Elea
nor—it is beginning to rain ; this esca
pade of yours will end disastrously if
you take cold."
"I am afraid it will end disastrously
for some one," she said carelessly.
For a brief Instant Maxwell held lier
hand in the darkness. "I may not have
the courage to see you again, Neli," he
said brokenly; "if. you could wait—
some day I may come hack for you—
now, I—"
I cion i
.vhNpeivd,
'I will "o
warn tu
wail, Jol
with a ce.
tch in lit
with you
mid begi
Do not it*;
live nit*;"
!" lit* mu
rmurod.
i bis lips.
"Dear lx
HVSSiUj.
tue
you mean itr
"Eleanor!" Seymour's voie
darkness like a kuil'e.
"Yes," came Eleanor's voice out ol
the night as site joined her stepfather.
The sound of hoof beats grew fainter
and finally died into silence; the soft
patter of rain on tin* chestnuts and the
low wail of mourning from the negro
quarters formed the only requiem over
the funeral pyre of the house of Max
well.
John drew nearer the ruins and
looked up at tile frowning majesty of
the six litige chimneys. 'They must
come down," he murmured, and made
a mental note to go to town and get
the dynamite necessary for the blast
ing.
Out of the grove of trees Uncle
Jake's voice came, cracked with emo
tion. "Marse John, Aunt Sally she done
dar outer her cabin an' its sweeter n
honey foil yo' comfort, sah; yo' bed
an' lot of tilings from the big house am
there—oh, Marse John!"
Maxwell forgot his own troubles in
allaying the grief of the old servants,
but when the gray morning dawned
and he still lay awake in his new quar
ters all the comfort and hope that
Eleanor's promise hud awakened in
him had departed.
He would be a cur indeed to snatch
the delicately nurtured girl from lier
home and let lier slender shoulders
bend beneath the burdens that the wife
of a poor man—a beggar, he thought
bitterly—must suffer! lie would not
bind her to a promise given perhaps in
the first warmth of sympathy. He
would go away—alone—and Seymour
couid have the coveted land.
Stern in this resolution, he rode over
to Leesburg tliat afternoon and pur
chased a quantity of dynamite, and the
following day, with the help of the ser
vants, he prepared to raze the menac
ing chimneys to the ground.
The women servants carried all the
precious crystal and china to a place
of safety, and then the work of remov
ing the chimneys was begun.
One by one, they tottered and fell in
clouds of choking dust, until there re
mained only the great central chimney
—the hearthstone around which gener
ations of Maxwells had gathered in joy
and sorrow, in prosperity long ago, and
now in bitter ruin. Better remove this
landmark of a dead race of which ho
was doomed to be the last.
So mused Maxwell, as he stood ab
sorbed in bitter thought while Uncle
Jake, near-sighted and half blinded by
tears, recklessly prepared ilie last
blast. The fuse was laid and they
withdrew into the shelter of the chest
nut grove.
"I done leave ebery stick ob dinna
mite there, Marse John," muttered the
old man with resentful triumph in his
grumbling tones. "There won't no
folks pint in here an' say—"
"My God, Jake, what—"
John's words were drowned in a
deafening roar, followed by the black
ness and silence of death itself.
When he regained consciousness his
eyes opened on the sunshine stream
ing through the window of Aunt Sal
ly's cabin ; all around him were famil
iar articles of furniture and above him
bent Eleanor Lee.
"Wliat happened—Uncle Jake?" he
asked faintly.
Uncle Jake's snow-crowned head
bobbed above the foot of the bed, his
lips stretciied in a toothless smile.
"Here I is, Marse John," he chuckled
softly; "dem lazy niggers done left a
fedder baid yander in de grove, an'
when de 'splosion came this nigger fell
on the bed an' ain't hurt a mite, sub.
You was de only one—"
"I'm glad of that, Uncle Jake,"
smiled Maxwell, and then he raised
iiis eyes to Eleanor's. "What did the
doctor say?"
"That y«>u will be as good as new in
few weeks," returned Miss Lee
promptly, evading his tender, eyes.
Maxwell groaned. "The devil's own
luck." lie muttered desperately. "Neli,
darling, I can't hold you to your prom
ise to go with me—I am penniless. I
am not selfish enough to accept your
sacrifice—"
A soft hand covered his mouth and
Eleanor's bright hair touched the pil
low beside his head. "I've set ray
heart on making a rich marriage.
John, don't disappoint me, please!
Listen—two weeks ago I heard my
stepfather telling that man who bought
the Leeson place next door that he
was positive that there was a vein of
coal beneath your place that meant a
fortune to the man who acquired the
property.
I thought the matter over and de
cided that he was the author of all
your troubles. It is he who has balked
all your enterprises. He hud hoped to
discourage you and send you away,
that the place might become his." She
whispered in his enr now. "I am
afraid he set fire to the hall as a lust
resort, but for mother's sake—" her
voice broke.
Maxwell found strength to encircle
her waist with his right arm. "The
matter is forgotten already," he said
generously. "As for the coal mine,
that is a chimera—
"No—Uncle Jake's overcharge ol
dynamite has opened a huge hole in
the ground and disclosed what Col
onel Pike calls the richest vein of coal
in Lees county. I will be poor beside
you."
Uncle Jake gave one glance at them
and then tiptoed from the room.
"Great crap," he chuckled,, softly,
"plant dis lieuh dinnamite in do chirn
biey and git or hahvest ob coal ! Do
Lo'ds ways am wunnerful—wunnerful
IndeedyI"
1
£ 4 XI &
m
ie
(Special Information Service, United States Department of Agric.lture.)
TOWN MEN HELP TO GATHER AMERICA'S FOOD
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"Doctor, Lawyer, Merchant Chief" Describes Some of the Town Teams That
Aided Farmers.
SOLVE HARVEST
LABOR PROBLEM
Story of How Kansas Farmers
Fought and Overcame Diffi
culties This Year.
CITIES AND TOWNS HELPED
Faced by Big Shortage of Farm Hands
and War Calling More Men Fed
eral, State and City Forces
Unite In Saving Grain.
Kansas farmers this year faced a
harvest labor problem as serious as
any in the country, it is believed by
officials of the United States depart
ment of agriculture. The story of how
Kansas fought its difficulties and over
came them demonstrates the high spir
it of patriotism in the country districts,
the willingness of the cities and towns
to help out in emergencies, and points
the way for other states to meet sim
ilar problems next year.
Seven million acres of wheat called
for harvest help. The army and war
industries were taking increasing num
bers of men from the state. Railroad
fares had been raised, Impeding the
movement of workers. A shortage of
from 90,000 to 100,000 men during the
harvest season was indicated by a la
bor survey mude early in the year by
the county agents in co-operation with
the schools.
The problem was up to the state
farm help specialist (representing the
department of agriculture and the ex
tension division of the state agricul
tural college), the United States de
partment of labor, the county agents
and the farm bureaus. They received
co-operation from chambers of com
merce and business men's clubs. The
farm help specialist visited S3 of the
105 Kansas counties and discussed the
labor situation with farm and town
people at county meetings. Later at
eight district meetings delegates from
the farm bureaus and other farmers'
organizations from every county rec
ommended wage scales for thu districts
and that labor be paid by the hour in
stead of the day. At a state meeting
45 cents an hour was decided on as a
fair wage.
Recruiting Town Men.
Late in May the farm help specialist
developed a method of recruiting town
and city men for help in the fields.
Work was started under a proclama
tion by the governor through the coun
ty and emergency agents. Working
with the chambers of commerce and
retail merchants' associations definite
records were obtained of approximate
ly 30,000 men in over 500 towns and
cities who were willing to answer the
harvest call. Headquarters at Wichita
and 20 local otfices were opened by
the department of labor to recruit men
from outside the state. In farm bu
reau counties the agents In nearly ev
ery case accepted the responsibility
of reporting the labor needs of the
county to the federal labor offices and
of distributing the harvest hands after
their arrival. In Cheyenne and Raw
lins counties this meant that the agents
had to organize a transport system
that brought the harvest hands in from
the main line railroads by automobile,
an average distance of about 30 miles.
Assistatce in this work was given by
the agricultural agents of railroads.
The result was that ' Kansas lost
none of Its wheat crop. All of the
grain has been safely harvested and
is helping to turn the scales in the bat
tle of food resources.
Thousands of Helpers Obtained.
Although complete data are not
available from all counties, a definite
record of 48,471 men being placed
through tho various co-operating agen
cies has been obtained. Of this num
ber more than 18,000 were handled by
the local labor offices of the depart
ment of labor and more than 3,000
wore town men who went out to har
vest through tho federal labor offices
In Kansas City and St. Joseph, Mo.,
nrd Kansas City, Atchison and Leaven
a
is
all
to
to
T . 01 ,
r >r«x Kan. Liitr-nine counties that !
have county agents have reported that
they cleared through their offices more
Ann 18,000 harvest hands from out<
side the county and that more than
7,000 town men, organized ns "twilight
shook troops," went in squads to help
in the evening.
These enumerations do not include
a large number of retired farmers and
other townspeople who helped in thq
harvest but did not register, and do
not take account of thousands of boys,
So great was the response of men in
the emergency that less than 5 per cent
of the women in Kansas were used a?
harvest helpers.
\
i
- 1
The more the farmer shows
the get-together spirit the great
er is the advantage accruing to i
him, personally and from n bust- J
ness standpoint. New ideas, pro- 5
gressive methods, valuable busi
ness connections can be gained
only by rubbing elbows with the
world outside his own fences.
Taking an active and positive
part in community events, inter
change of views with successful
men of affairs, getting beyond
the border of his county and
state and mixing with people—
★ this Is to make himself felt in
J his own community. All this
★ has a broadening value, not ensy
★ to compute in hard dollars and j}
★ cents, but quite easy to sum up •i
★ in profitable results. 3
★ 3
******-k-)c*-M^**********#*4
Frugality vs. Shiftlessness.
Before the long, wet winter month»
set in, when the greater part of hi|
machinery and implements nre not ll
use, the thrifty farmer carefully goei
over them, oiling, using paint when
necessary, supplying broken or missing
parts and putting everything undei
shelter. These and other frugal char
ncterlstlcs differentiate him from th«
shiftless, haphazard farmer who leaveR
his implements exposed to the weath
er, who lets the fences around his
house and barn fall down, perfectlj
contented to throw a hoop over his
corral gate rather than put on a new
hinge or repair the old one.
The former, it may be taken foi
granted, is a plow-deep, use-fertilizer,
cultivate-thoroughly and take-ad van*
tago-of-the-market farmer—in a word,
a successful farmer; while the latter
is a scratch-the-ground and trust-to*
luck individual whose failure he at
tributes to anyone hut himself.
No right-minded farmer could toler
ate being in the second class; and, on
the other hand, every farmer coming
under that category ought to aspire to
the first classification—and now Is the
time to start.
Farm Made to Pay.
For ten years a 500-acre farm In cen
tral Michigan failed to pay interest on
the capital Invested. One yenr after
the owners had been Induced to make
certain radical changes the farm paid
all expenses of operation and returned
them 5 per cent on an Investment of
$60,000. These changes were:
Snstitution of four-horse for two
horse machinery; substitution of bet
ter stock for unprofitable cows In the
dairy herd; adoption of the silo plan;
allowance to the foreman, In addition
to his salary, of 10 per cent of the net
income from tho farm.
Expenses of operating the farm, bnt
not the interest on the capital, were
deducted from the Income before the
foreman received his percentage. The
owners yielded to the plan when they
found that for every dollar the fore
man got under such an arrangement
they would receive nine.
Soak Seed for Fall Garden.
Owing to the difficulty usually ex
perienced In getting seeds planted la
the fall garden to germinate, it Is wise
to soak them a few hours before plant
ing. (-over the seeds lightly when
planting, then soak the ground, and
finish the covering with fine (Try soil.
The dust mulch will retain the mois
ture, enabling the seeds to germinate
and to come up.
The best way to use manure on the
garden land Is to apply It broadcast
and spread it abundantly.