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Los Angeles herald. (Los Angeles [Calif.]) 1900-1911, December 03, 1905, Image 31

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<{iv TOW look here, Johnny, my
i\A mind's made up. ir Mr. Arn
old' meaning to exhibit at the
horse show. It's my business to see him
through tomorrow. 'Jerry,' he says to
me, 'when 1 raiso a match pair of
black carriage horses I'll make the
town talk.' Now he's goln' to make
the town talk — and I'm goin' to help
him, for you'll not deny we're drivin'
a. handsome turnout," and Jerry used
his whip in a loving flick upon each
glossy back. Tho blooded animals, re
sponsive to his lightest touch, sprang
forward, their proud necks arched and
theii 1 ears pointed straight. "There,
there, my beauties— so— so," said Jer
ry soothingly. "My, but ain't it won
derful how the sound of a voice'U
quiet 'em! That's breed, John; it tells
pretty nigh always in horses and folks.
You ain't listenin" to my remarks,"
and Jerry's nudge roused the footman
with a start. :
"Qult'thfit;" said John, sharply; "no,
I'm not listening. You're talkin 1 rot.
If.;you think 1 can take that mettle
some pair, that's as skittish as — as
thunder, for. a prize drive around the.
ring, before ail them griniiln* lackeys
and all the swells in town, you've mis
taken your man; and with that raw
hand, Sims, a-settin' beside me, and
me a-thinkin' what a guy he looks,
how can you expect mo to manage a
team like this?"
"I'm afraid, Johnny, you're not quite
bright. I never knew how much was
iackiu* before this . carriage practice."
Jerry looked at him critically, with the
old merry twinkle in his eye. "Still,
as I keep a-tellin' you, it's young blood
must show, up this day. I wouldn't
match the blacks with these gray-sid
ers"—he passed bis hand, with an un
consciously regretful movement, over
his closely cropped English mutton
chops, and something like a sigh es
caped him. "All you've got to do,"
he added, more briskly, "is to keep a
firm rein, look straight at. their earH
and talk to 'em gentle. They're fond
of pleasant conversation; It's kind of
music to 'em, and they keep time."
"Humph!" grunted John. "I leave
nil that tomfoolery to you. I never
had a conversation with horses In my
whole life. I say 'git up' and 'whoa.'
and if they don't happen to hear them
remarks, I pull one way, and then I
pull another, and If that don't do, the
whip's handy enough."
"Don't you never use a whip on
them!" said Jerry, flaring up. "Romeo
and Juliet's been brought up different,
1 can toll you."
John chuckled. "I knew that would
get a rise out of you," he said, "but
honest. Jerry. I feel kind of done up
nnd knock-kneed; my nerves is terri
Jerry glanced at him with scorn.
"You'd bettor take a 'bracer' beforo
you go in tho ring."
"You'll bo by, won't you, Jorry, In
<ace "
"Devil a bit," said Jorry sharply.
"I'll wait outside for the master and
missus with the old team." To be
"by" nnd see another person drive his
pets wuHii't consistent with human
nature, but John's research In that di
rection was somewhat limited. "I've
had my day," said Jerry; "I ain't com
pluinlu'. I jockeyed It for a while
when I was a featherweight. You
wouldn't believe It, would you, John?"
nnd Jerry slapped his broad chest
good naturedly. "Out I wasn't cut out
for a jockey; 1 began to got 'chunky,'
and when they took to starvin' me to
keep mo. thin I guve up the trade;
'Jerry,' nays I to myself, 'you've got
to grow like Ood made you," nnd a
coachmun's been the size of It ever
"I: must be grand to be atop of a
tacer," said John, forgetting his own
troubles In the picture Jerry conjured
"There's uothln' like It. Of course
In drivin' you can get mighty close to
a horse nnd his tricks, but they come
to you nt the other end of the reins.
On his back you get the life of him,
you feel him making up his mind, you
know when he's goln' to take a spurt,
mi/ know when he's goln' to stuck up,
nnd once you've won a race — — " Jer
ry blinked from sheer excess of emo
"Did you ever win?" asked John.
"Well, you'd better believe! It ain't
the way of the world, John, to be ra
kln" up failures. Why, I rode Daisy
Hell when she broke the record.' lean
feel the quiver of her lean, brown body
now. That was a race! AVhen we
leached goal folks went wild. It's a
wonder the din didn't scare Daisy Hell
into a fit, and as for me— l was treated
till I couldn't stand straight. That
was my last ride. I sobered up won
derful afterward and went to prayer
meetln' regular. Them was salad days,
Johnny; you ain't never had 'em, be
cause I took you in hand early and
brought you up better. You were nat
urally worse than me, though I do say
it," said Jerry complacently. "You'll
do me proud," he added, "when you
get your picture in the paper and the
I blue ribbons on Komeo and Juliet."
Again John grunted; he could not re
spond with proper enthusiasm; ht> felt
somehow like a fish out of water. Ho
was eminently conservative in his no
tions and Jerry, had not preached his
principles of caste to dull ears.
"I hope," remarked Jerry, as they
got closer to .the great humming city,
"that Slms'll Hrive the bays in all right
tomorrow. The master was willing to
trust him, but, between yon and me,
Johnny, Sims is better at waitin' on ta
ble and pollshln' door knobs."
"That's what I say," said John, in
dignantly. "The Idea of ptittln' hl-n up
be-slde me! Why, little Jerry'd cut a
better figure 1"
"Oh, I'm not talkin' about aettln* up
straight and foldin" his arms. There
ain't no brains to that," said d Jerry,
with one of his characteristic nudges.
"Now pork up. Johnny; we're comin'
to town, and I'm goln' through back
streets to get those horses to ntabli ,on
tho quiet. We'll give 'em a
grooming, and we'll find our own shake
down at tho club, lad. That'll heartoh
you up a bit."
The last days of the horse r=ho\v
dawned brilliantly. Jerry and John
were early astir, for Jerry was deter
mined to leave nothing undono. ; Homeo
and Juliet wore visited a dozen times
and the carriage and accoutrement
were overhauled under Jerry's micro
scopic eye. He then turned . his atten
tion to John, whose spirits ebbed with
the Meeting hours; he curried him and
harbored him and polished him and
brushed him and scolded him, and
finally, after an exhausting day, towed
him triumphantly to the Garden en
trance, an immaculate image of de
"Well, good luck to you, lad," and
Jerry pushed his charge over the
threshold, with a parting slap on the
shoulder and an encouraging smile.
"I'll go to the Carpenters now for my
people and send Sims along to keep you
company; he'll be all right and proper
when 1 lot him go. don't fear," und
Jerry wont awuy with the feeling of
having led an Innocent lamb to the sac
At 8 o'clock the carriage of the Ar
nolds, with Jerry on the box, stood In
front of the great meeting place of
fashion. Sims, . after due inspection,
was hurried round to the side; there
Mr. and Mrs. Arnold and young Win
ston got out of the carriage and paused
for final instructions to Jerry. Mr. Ar
nold looked at his watch. -
"Our entry Is booked for lt;30; we'll
drive straight out home, Jerry, In this
old carrluge, with you and John, and
leave Sims to look after- the prize win
ners; you can come In by train tomor
row and drive them home."
"All right, sir; good luck." Jerry
touched bis hat and looked after them
longingly as they vanished Into the ra
diance beyond; then, gathering up the
reins, be moved out of the line and the
glare of tho electric lights.
He left his box for a moment to ad
just some piece, of the harness, and bis
hand strayed caressingly over the
smooth flanks of the bays. They knew
his touch and turned their heads toward
him with ii half suppressed whinny.
Jerry threw a loving arm around each
glossy neck.
"It's young blood they want, my
beauties." he said softly; "you and me
ain't in it, but we're proud all the same,
—eh. Sultan; en. Princess! We've
raised a family, we have, and they're
better than all the blue ribbons."
The intelligent creatures rubbed their
noses against his coat sleeves, and Jer
ry, looking: up, was aware of a strange
mist between his eyes and. the steady
glow of tho electric, lights.
"Don't be a fool," he said, to no one In
particular, as be went back. to his box,
and .squaring his shoulders, settled
down to his long watt.
There was no IJohn to talk to, and
Jerry's reminiscent 'spirit walked
abroad this night. . The , long line .of
waiting carriages faded from his view,
the hurry and bustle of the city sank
luto the music, of the past; the past—
with its open country, its green fields,
its lusty, hearty youth, Its vigorous
manhood,' and all the strength of its
riper years.
"Young blood, young blood," he re
peated more than once, as familiar
pounds floated out . to him. An . hour
passed; Jprry looked nt his watch— a
quarter past nine! The, fate of Komeo
and Juliet hung upon the next half
hour, i Every thought was now concen
trated upon the thoroughbreds. He had
no fear for the horses; they were well
trained, sensitive animals, but John—
for the first time Jerry's courage
wavered. Suppose at the last, moment
John's nerve forsook him; the blacks
would be sure to bolt in the ring. Oh,
the disgrace of it! Perhaps he had been
foolish nfter all. John had been his
choice, but If ho made a mess- of It,
what would the master lay .•• Arid \){t*
"Miss Ethel," whom he never, fulled—
what ■ •'■ 'i.'i'S.
"Jerry!", Atull, cloaked figure came
hastily forward out of the shadow. It
was Mr. Arnold himself.
"It can't be done, Jerry. John's got
stage fright, and I won't let him go
In the ring. He has the grip of a kit.
ten, and when he mounted the box the
blacks • kicked' like steers, then 'they
balked and refused to move. They're
getting mad, and foamy and restive.
I'm sorry to disappoint John, but
there's only one way to win my blue
ribbon, and only ten minutes to de
cide. Here Sims, take the reins. Come
on, Jerry," ■ ".•'• '
Jerry, rose mechanically and stood
staring down ' Incredulously ' ! at . 'his
"Get j down nt oiice!" ordered '- his
muster. "1 tell you there's no. time to
lose." . , ,':■'■• '*,'
"Hut" began Jerry,
At tills moment the. entrunce. door
swung • wide and young Winston
lushed bureheaded into .the street,
Alter him came Mrs. Arnold, the train
0( her gown over her arm, her even
ing wrap thrown carelessly about her,
her face pale with excitement.
Tgyy 'i' t 'r *r V T V '*« *r 'I' 'V *r v t v t *r v ■*' *v -v '*' '
"Not a moment, Jerry," she called,
her sweet voice ringing imperiously
out Into the night.
■ Jerry started at the sound. All his
life. It seemed, he had obeyed that
voice without question. The carriage
robe, still wrapped about his knees,
dropped from him like magic; the
reins fell from his hands into Sims'
uplifted- ones, and Jerry stepped down.
. For .an instant he paused, looking
from one to the other of the eager
faces about him. Once ■he tried to
speak, but young Winston caught his
arm and hurried him round to the
.Half an ■ hour later Jerry emerged,
followed by a swarm of friends of the
coachman persuasion, who . crowded
about him as he made his way to the
carriage, holding in his hand a sil
ver mounted, blue ribboned whip, the
gift of his master when he had driven
the blacks triumphant from . the ring.
He stood on the curb for a moment,
a stalwart figure, topping them all, an
swering the rough congratulations as
well as he could; then he mounted and
took the reins from Sims, who slid into
the footman's place.
"Oh, come off!" cried a voice In tho
darkness, "that's my seat as long — well
— as long as Jerry's on the box." Thii
aroused a cheer, and John sprang to
rpen the door. Tim trrvyd scattered ,is
Mr. and Mrs. Arnold and young Win
ston, with their own stream of 'enthu
siastic, friends, made their way to the
carriage amid laughter and. jests and
good wishes., 'v, . ■ ..-
"Home, Jerry!" cried - the muster,
with a glad ring In his voice.
"Yes. sir." Jerry touched his hat,
John closed the dour and sprang up
beside him. the bays pricked up their
ears as they felt the firm hand upon
the rein, and Jerry turned them home
ward. .
The night was clear and cold; just
a touch of winter In the still nir and
tho brilliance of the stars. Voices rose
from the depths of the earrlago — Jubi
lant, excited voices, young Winston's
ringing out above the others.
"jerry's tin old trump!" he. declared.
"If it hadn't been for" — hero tho voice
trailed off. in a subdued murmur. Jerry
glanced- nt John, who sat with folded
arms apparently absorbed; ho did not
break the silence between thorn., for his
t\»n kind heart ached a little, oven in
his victory. Success. for ••■ John upon
this night of nights would ■ have meant
more than the mere acclamation of the
multitude; It would have, established
bis reputation as a practiced vhip; and,
besides, would have been the beginning
ot a pedlgrc." for tittle Jerry! -Tlio whip
would have been a rare trophy for the
youngster to inherit. By; Jove! he
should, anyway, and Jerry cut the air
with It with such force that the horses
started forward and John awoke from
his "reverie.
"What on earth' are you doing,
Jerry?", hf> demanded. ' '••'••.'
"Thjnklh 1 ," said Jerry laconically.
: "Sounds like you were a-foolin' w'lth
gunpowdt»r-*-Klon't think so loud."
' '.'Your- thlnkln', don't make so much
of a noise— eh, Johnny?" .' .
• "Well,. : I guess not," snld John,
whose sense of humor had. not strength'
ene^l with his years. They drove ; In
ellence a few momentslonger. the hoi-Bon
tugging at the reins, fresh and eager
for exercise. They had lost the last
twinkling lights of the city, and the
country road stretched clear before
"I wonder," tiald Jerry ut last, "how
Belle Moses
much I'd be worth If I had a. dollar for
every trip I've made along this line. 1
don't seem to get tired of it, there ain't
a stick nor a stone but hasn't its own
little tale — my sukes!"
"There you go — moonin' nlong." said
John contemptuously; "ain't you got
nothln" better to do with your time,
"And how many folks I've driver.."
pursued Jerry inipe.rtmbably. "Could
you count 'em, Johnny?"
"Well, that's most too big a sum for
"And the things that's happened,"
went on Jerry, growing dangerously re
miniscent—"parties, balls, weddin's and
christenin's— they all come mighty
quick in this family. There was ones
we had to race in town for the doctor
—you remember how cold it was that
night?— it was the only time I had to
lny whip on the bays— but we saved
Miss Ethel— God bless her!" Jerry'?
eyes grew dim. "And there was an
other time; that day when— when"
"Jerry!" called a boyish voice from
the carriage, depths, and young Wln
rton opened the door and sprang out.
"Tho night Is ho line I'd like to run
home across the fields."
"I'll wait for you at the turn of tl.e
road," answered Jerry, as the slight
figure vanished in the darkness.
"No need, Jerry," said Mr. Arnold.
"He's bound for home by the short cut.
You can drivo ahead."
"The turn of the road— how we're al
ways strlkin' up against it." said
Jerry, as' he tightened his reins and
the horses quickened their pace.
"It conies natural like on tho way
home." said John, the literal.
Jerry glanced at him scornfully. "It
comes into everything. Johnny, take
my word for It. There's always a turn
of the road some-whores."
"Yes." admitted John, "and in thn I
there ring in the garden you're always
Jerry opened his lips to jeer at his
underling, hut eloped them again, with
only the slit of a smile. John could no
more help his limitations than be could
help — -
"Kit up straight," he commanded,
more from force of habit than from
necessity. ''We're gettln' on to it now,
and we must make the homestretch In
the blue ribbon style. See here, lad,"
he began; after a pause," I was sorry
ahout tonight."
"Why?" asked John, bending forward
and looking him full In the face. "1
don't look- nllln', do I?"
Jerry . met the laughing eyes and
laughed, too.
"I dou't Bee ns you do," he owned.
"I never meant to go In that ring,"
began John, Impressively.
"What are you talking about?" said
Jerry, incredulously.
"Gospel truth. I made, up my mind
when we came to town yesterday that
even them beauties wouldn't drag rat
In— l'd get out of it somehow. It wusn't
a mite of trouble to make 'em wur and
prance, an'- you bet I done It. Lord!
but Mr. Winston pretty near took my
head oft. .'Don't, you know what you're
dbin'?' he called. 'Yes,' sir,' says I,
knowin' well enough. 'You're drivin'
'em wild!" — he jumped round excited
then. 'Father, go for Jerry,' says he.
'Hold 'em still, If you can, John, till we
ciuin) back.' and off he. bolted, too.. I
had got 'em sort of •frisky,' owned
John with a chuckle, 'but it only
wanned 'em up to do stunts when you
CHtne along, and when I seen old Sims
shoved off my perch— l didn't car«
much wlnil happened. It ain't in na-
Imitation Diamonds a Fad
( i /^OUNTKUPEIT diamonds are
( worn much more generally than
most people suppose," said &
Broadway dealer. "They are adver
tised as made out of a variety of ma
terials—even to quartz crystal coated
with a solution of diamond dust in
hydrofluoric acid; a total impossibility,
by the way — but there is nothing for
the purpose like the Rood old French
•paste.' What is it? Why, nothing in
the world but ii very line quality of
glass, with a largo percentage of load
as an Ingredient.
"Hut tin; processes employed in mak-
Ing this kind of glass must bo conduct:
eel with the utmost nicety in order
that It may have the requisite bril
liancy and hardness, whereas for the
best table glassware white quartz
sand is employed, for 'paste' this mate
rial Is mixed, half and half, With pow
dered rock crystal. Then earbonute
of soda; calcined borax, saltpetre and
rod lend are added in due proportions,
and tin; mass is fused by beat in a
crucible, being llnully permitted to cool
"Upon the care (al:en in the details
of the process depend the density.
transparency and, beauty of the 'paste'
which, when the stuff is cold, is ready
to be cut up Into pieces suitable lor
preparation as 'diamonds.' Such prep
aration consists of cutting with tho
help of a wheel and diamond dust,
much In the same way 08 real diamonds
ure made ready for the market. The
artificial gems thus made— the best
of them, that is to say—possess consid
erable brilliancy and Ore, so that any
person not an expert would be likely
to be deceived by them.
"Millions of these Imitation diamonds
cut in France, where the manufacture
of them Is a Kreat Industry, are im
ported into this country annually for
use in cheap jewelry. The ordinary
ones cost twenty-live cents apiece
wholesale, and are set In plated pins,
rings and brooches ut Providence and
AUleboro, It. I. Several big factories
In those cities are kept busy at this
sort of work, employing hundreds of
men and women tho year around.
Rhode Island, Indeed, turns out most
of the cheap jewelry In the United
"From the same kind of 'paste' but
of a superlative quality, ure made high
class counterfeit diamonds, which
sometimes pell for $10 or more, apiece.
They are cut by skilled diamond cut
tern, almost as carefully us real dia
monds, Hiid to the casual eye they ure
just about as brilliant. So much de
pends In this sort of work upon the
Hire, Jerry, for me to piny first flddl")
y(>t. I'd hfive frit like a frenk In ft
dime show," and John wound up
breathless from this unusual perora
"Johnny, yon'ro n fool!" said Jerry
softly, ami his strong rlpar cut face
grew very gentle In the darkness.
The lights from the old homestead
twinkled out <i blithe welcome as they
drew ne.^r. The doora were flung wide,
Hfld as Jerry turned Into the nvenue
there was hearty cheering, led by the
high pitched Voice of younft Winston,
who hud assembled the entire house
hold to j?reet the victor. There ha
stood on the top step, waving his hat
and shouting boyishly:
"Three eheerl for Jerry and John—
find the blacks— who can't be beatl
Three cheers for Mr. Arnold* prize
winners! Three cheers for the whole
team! Now, all together— one, two,
Kuch on upronr ns floated through the
stately treon h;ul never been heard In
ninny years. Jerry's fnce Mushed and
hIH eyes kindled, for thin was the pralso
ho loved most. Hut he said nothing,
only his hnnd was firmer on the rein,
and his figure rven more erect, as ho
drew up before the house. At once tho
din grew louder. John sprang; down
to optn tlin door and Mr. and Mrs. Ar
nold joined In the fun. I'oor Jerry had
nowhere to hide his head, for cheers
encompassed him round about; up on
the steps, down on the curb, and closo
to thn carriage wheels, a thin, child
ish treble took up tho refrain.
Jerry stooped suddenly and caught
the .small figure In' his arms.
"It's my turn now," he said, "but
wait a bit, little Jerry, young blood
will tell!"
c.irrect utilization of optical princlplea
that a perfectly cut 'paste' gem may
actually have more fire and beauty;
than a poorly cut real diamond.
"You may put It down as a. fact that
most of the diamonds actresses loso
are In reality 'paste.' Sometimes an
additional brilliancy Is lent to them
by Introducing a little silver In the
setting at the back of the 'stone.' The
same sort of had glass, I might men
tion, is used for making artificial em
eralds and rubles, suitable coloring;
substance being added to the mixture
before fusing. Fakirs, particularly in
the west, find an oasy market for such.
■gems,' sometimes selling them actual
ly by the carat to contribute an ad
ditional suggestion of preciousness to
their wares.
"Where Iho swift Tdar tlows into tho
Nahe, n tributary of the llliine, are
located, in a beautiful valley, the towns
of Oberateln and Idnr, the inhabitants
of which, over sinci: the fourteenth cen
tury, have subsisted by cutting the rare
and wonderful agates found in the hlllß
of that neighborhood; Not only agates
but topaz; amethyst, carnelian, jasper,
rock crystal and lapis lazuli they cut,
the value of the output amounting to
more than J1.000.n00 annually. Hut tho
most curious part of their business
consists In supplying agates for the
African Hade, which. In order to sat
isfy the exacting taste of the native
chiefs, must be carved In peculiar
"If you would have evidence of the
extent to which artificial gems are
worn, particularly 'diamonds,' you
have only to take notice of the number
of shops which are devoted to the
sale of this class of goods. At inter
vals, when business is dull, they at
tract custom by tremendous cuts In
prices. Hut the profit:) on jewelry of,
this kind are usually so enormous that
BUch reductions ure not ruinous, a con
siderable margin of gain being left
even when the dealer marks down his
goods 300 or 400 per cent."
Wn haven't time to give them alii
Whom fate is keeping down;
They might go forward unafraid
To honor or renown
If we could halt hoiiio times to lend
A hand or voice a iiope;
Tliey can't expect ua to descend
To wlicri! they drudging gropo;
W« cunnot help them bear their wot*
Or lift them when they full-
We k<T|> no busy helping tliuHu
— Chicago Record-Herald.

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