Ottumwa tri-weekly courier. [volume], October 06, 1908, Image 2

About Ottumwa tri-weekly courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1903-1916

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TUESDAY, October 6, 1908.
The man spat on the ground, and
.followed his wife meekly up the vil
lage. But his words had voiced the
(common sentiment. The death of the
ohlld was the "Judgment of God."
Somehow, it had transpired that the
'two bereaved parents had not been
united in a church, and a registry of-
rflce,
to those who had never seen on
aavored of actual immorality.
But Laura, who neither knew or
cared anything for the popular verdict
!on her bereavement, drove back In
jsllence to the farmhouse under the
rhill, and when the a_d her father were
1 alone in the same roon, where she
.had sung Tosti's "Good-Bye" more than
itwo years ago, her grief found vent
at last in tears, and she broke out into
a storm of weeping that convulsed her
whole body.
Old Sam Vane took her in his arms,
,and spoke to her as he had often
spoken in the days of her childhood,
when some tiny grief had brought
tears to her eyes.
"There, there, Laurie," he said
gently, 'twill all be well with 'ee,
see if It won't. 'Tis the Lord's will,
little one, the Lord's will, and taln't
for us to cry out."
"Oh, you do not know," she moaned,
"you do not know." And then, thrust
ing his hands away from her, she
clasped her bqj)(Is in a wild' fury of
grief. "Oh, God," she cried. "What
have I done? Where was the sin?
Where was the sin?"
Her father looked at her in terror.
Her eyes glittered with light of mad
ness, and a tress of her glorious au
burn hair, loosened by a wild thrust
of her hand, had fallen over her shoul
ders. She looked like some fallen
angel breathing out rebellion against
God.
"Laurie, Laurie," cried her father,
"you must be yourself, child you,
must not look like that. 'Tis the will
of the Lord, the will of the Lord."
"There is no God," she answered
coldly, and her voice was more terri
ble in Its calmness than In its fury.
No God would suffer such things in
this world. I say that there is no
God, and I mean it ffom the bottom
of my heart."
Alas, poor soul, like many a one be
fore her, she fancied for the moment
that she was the central fact in the
scheme of creation, and that the Jus
tice of the Universe must stand or fall
on the merits of her own individual
«ase.
"Silence, child,' said her father
•sternly, "are you seeking the portion
of the blasphemer? I will not listen
to 'ee, Laurie, and if you talks like
that in hearin' you leave my
{house. I thought 'ee had more grit.
.'Twarn't thus I spoke when your
mother died—my dear old comrade
of twenty year'n more. 'Tis the Lord's
will that those we love shall leave
MS."
He spoke harshly, though his heart
ached for his daughter's misery. His
shrewd mind already guessed thit
,there was something more in the girl's
,heart than Borrow for the loss of her
child. But he forbore to aggravate her
grief with any attempt to learn the
cause of It.
'Tis the Lord's will. Laurie," he
repeated more gently, and these words
represented all the philosophy of his
simple life.
She did not answer him, but. seating
herself in a chair, she gazed round
the room, as though trying to find
something which might divert her
thoughts from her present sorrow.
Her father watched her anxiously.
"It all looks the same," she said,
after a long pause. "Tell me all about
yourself, father. I did not come here
to make you miserable. I came to re
ceive your forgiveness."
"You've had that a long time,
child," the old man answered, "though
I don't deny as it were hard at first
and mortal lonely."
"I know, I know," she cried. "I am
ashamed of myself. But he would
not let me write. Old Sir Robert—"'
She paused. She had no wish to ut
ter the lie in so many words, and her
father would understand.
"Ay, he were a proud man." Sam
Vane said grimly. "But tell me,
Laura
"There Is nothing to tell," she in
terrupted quickly. "I want to hear
.all about yourself."
He told her the story of his quiet
hard-lived life during the past, two
years. It was dull, monotonous, and
unrelieved by any dvent of im
portance. The death of a favorite
CASTORIA
". Vv.
(LOVE THE CRIMINAL!
Copyright, 1908, by J. B. Harris-Burland.
Entered at Stationers' Hall. All rights reserves.
CHAPTER XXII.. (continued).
Laura had not shed a single tear
since the first wild outburst of weep
ing. But her white hard face, and the
silent agony in her eyes had testified
to the awful strength of her grief.
SIig
had even refused to see her father un
til after the funeral.
But when the quiet and simple cere
mony was over, she ai lowed her hus
band to return to Tankerlane Court
alone, and she drove back with Sam
Vane to the farmhouse where she had
been born.
"Poor thing," said the wife of a la
borer, as she watched the carriages
leave the gate of the churchyard. "It's
comfort she's wanting with that hard
face. It's a good cry'd do her good.
"Seems to me," replied her husband
slowlv, "as it's the judgment of the
Almighty. Nothing good ever came
Of them secret marriages. I don't hold
•with hidln' things up."
"Then you taln't a Christian,' his
wife retorted hotly. "Them thoughts
didn't come to you fete time, when
you drunk more of his beer than was
good for you and I had to lead yon
home like a dog. That's not Chris
tian charity. If I -were you. I'd pray
for 'em both next Sunday in church,
and ask pardon at the same time for
un-Chrlstlan back-biting."
For.Infants and Children.
The Kind You Have Always Bought
•4
horse, the failure of a potato crop, the
incompetency of the women who had
succeeded Laura in the dairy work
these were the tragedies of the story.
But Laura did not smile as she listen
ed to them. She knew the great trag
edy of his life had been real enough,
and, though he did not speak of it,
she could see the marks of it on his
face. And the thought of it was yet
another burden that she had to bea.-,
yet another cause of self-reproach, yet
another instance of the cruelty of fate.
When he had finished his dull lit
tle narrative, they were both silent.
Then Laura rose to her feet, and,
crossing over to his chair, placed her
arms round his neck, and klsBed him.
"Dear old father," she said tenderly,
"you seem to be the only sure and
constant thing In the world. Every
thing else changes, and slips away
from under one's feet, but in spite of
all my sins your love remains—only
your love remains."
"Tush, tush, child!" he replied.
"You've a great and fine life before
you. You'll have the power of doin'
good to a lot of folk as needs it. And
you've your husband, ^nd I know well
he loves you. Men in his position
don't marry farmer's daughters un
less they love them. God has given
you a good husband, lass, and, if He
has thought lit to make the little one
from 'ee—well, that is for the best
sure sartin that Is for the best. You
must think of your husband, lass.
You need each other now. There was
a power of sorrow in that hard face
of his. Your place is ,y his side."
"My place is by his side," she re
peated mechanically, like a parrot try
ing to learn some set form of words.
The old man rose to his feet and
looked hard In her face.
"Is he not good to 'ee, lass?" he
asked.
"He is very good."
"And he loves, 'ee, too I know it."
"Yes, father, he loves me."
"And it is to him you'll go and find
comfort, lass?"
She was silent and turned away her
head.
"Don't you love him, lass?" he ask
ed sadly.
She was still silent.
"Don't you love him as you've
sworn to love and honor and obey?"
"We were married in a registry
office," replied Laura coldly "I di'l
not swear to love liim."
"Then you've sold yourself .to him
for his money, his broad lands, his
name—and your heart—oh, l^aurle,
may the Lord have pity on you!"
"He has punished me," sue replied
in a dull voice.
Sam Vane placed his hands on her
shoulders and looked gravely into her
white face.
"Go home, lass," lie said sternly,
and God forgive you. Go, to your
husband and give him the love lie
needs. Now is the time, Laurie—in
the hour of sorrow, when the heart
sore and tender. Go to him, lass. Ha
will welcome you. I've seen it in his
face. You should be all in all to each
other at a time like this."
"I will go," she said wearily. "Good
bye, father, dear."
"Good-bye, child," he said gently,
"and remember 'tis 11 the Lord's
will."
He kissed her tenderly, and saw her
into the carriage which was waiting
at the door. And a quarter of an hour
afterwards she 7as at Tankerlane
Court.
'Where is Sir William?" she asked
a footman, as she crossed the
threshold of her home.
"In the library, my lady," the man
replied.
She made her way to the library
door, and then, turning back, went up
to her bedroom. She had resolved to
make peace with her husband, and
give him the sympathy of a loving
wife. It would not come from the
heart, but glossed over with the emo
tion of the moment, it would pass for
the real thing. It was the only course
open to her. Life would be unbear
able without a better and kindlier un
derstanding between them. This was
the hour, the appointed time. If she
let this opportunity slip It would never
come again. And yet she was afraid
to enter the library, and went up to
her bedroom to pray for strength.
Long and earnestly, she prayetfc,
asking for forgiveness and help !n
her difficulties.
"Oh God!" she cried, "if I have
blasphemed Thee, I ask for pardon.
If I have sinned, forgive me. But
keep me from temptation teach me,
too, to forgive and forgot. Let me lo
my duty as a wife, and the mother nf
the child Thou hast taken from me."
She bowed her head in silence, and
then, moved by a swift Impulse, that
came almost as if in answer to her
prayer, she hurried downstairs, and
opened the library door.
Her husband was sitting in a chair
by one of the windows. On a small
table by his side was a half-empty
bottle of brandy. His flushed cheeks
and the dull, stupid look in his eyas
told Laura the trutn. He was drunk,
within an hour of his child's funeral.
But Laura, brave in the strength ot
her resolution, crossed fearlessly to
his side. He did not even look at heff
"I have come back, dear," she said
nervously, and then paused.
"Very kind of you," he growled,
a thick voice. "Well, you can clear
out. and be damned to you!"
She looked for a moment into his
bloodshot eyes. Then she left the
room and closed the door behind her.
CHAPTER XXIII.
For two days Laura Tankerlane re
fused to see her husband, and had all
her meals sent up to her room and
during these two days her mind sank
back into the darkness from which
Bears the
Signature
of
.'it
:n
a
-j
1
one brief moment of brave resolve
had lifted It. And the dan.ness was
more terrible and overwhelming than
it had ever been.
"There is no God," was again the
bitter cry of her heart, "or, if there is
a God, He has forsaken me. I am
alone, and there is no one to help
me."
Her mind, already clouded by her
long sufferings, by her useless sacri
fice. and by the death of her child, was
now plunged In a still deeper shadow.
She had made an effort at reconcilia
tion, and had been repulsed. For the
first time in her life she had used :i
term of endearment to her husband,
and he had answered it with a brutal
oath. A woman in a more reasonable
frame of mind would remember that
lair William Tankerlane, who was also
distraught with grief, and who still
smarted under his wife's previous
coldness, was in no fit state to con
trol either his language or his actions.
He had drunk heavily to drown his
sorrow, and was ashamed of his words
as soon as they had left his lips.
But Laura remembered none of this
she only recalled the brutality of his
language, and the disgusting spec
tacle which had greeted her eyes as
she had entered the room. She haj
made up her mind to have no more to
do with him to live with him at Tan
kerlane Court so as to avoid a public
scandal, but to live her own life apart.
If this state of mind had continued
it would merely have concerned her
self and her husband. It would hav-?
Implied a certain resignation to the
blows of fate it would have shown
a certain dogged courage which had
marked out a dreary path for itself,
and had resolved to follow it to the
end—a path beset with difficulty, but
which could be trodden alone through
all the long, grey night.
But a more selfish and more evil
thought had already come into th*
mind of the distracted woman. "Why,"
she argued to herself, "should I let
myself be broken on the wheel? Have
I no strength to resist? Am I too
weak to control my own destiny?
Why should I be crushed without in
effort to get some happiness out of
life? Why should I not rebel, take
my fate in my own hands, and defy
all the powers that wish to destrov
me?"
These wild and recKless thoughts
leapt through her brain like fire, and
cast lurid pictures on the dark back
ground of her future life. She saw
a home in some distant land, whe^e
none could interfere with their happi
ness. She saw peace, and all the
quiet content of love. And, as she
saw these picture—mere phantoms of
the brain—she realised that all the
realities were within her reach, if slu
dared to stretch out her hand and
grasp them. She saw that a single
word wbuld bring John Shil to her
side, and that he would care nothing
for public scandal that he would
count the world well lost, for love.
She had but to lift her finger, and
light would stream through the dark
ness over her. head, the past would
shrink away from her Into the gloom
behind, and the future would lie clear
and sweet in the sunshine.
And the price? What would it cost
to turn this dream of happiness into
an actual fact? A broken oath? Not
even that, for she had only sworn to
marry Tankerlane, and she had al
ready married him. A stain on her
honor? Tankerlane himself had dis
honored her. The life and happiness
of the man she loved. Ah, there was
the difficulty there was the crux of
the whole problem. It was to save
her lover that she had sacrificed her
self in the first instance. Perhaps if
she deserted her husband, she would
undo all the gocd she had done. She
kuew nothing of the oath he had
sworn to Leonore.
And through all the dreary hours
the visions of future happiness flash
ed up and disappeared like the gleams
of a revolving light. She had thrust
aside the distinction between good
and evil. She did not wish to know
what religion or morality or honor re
quired of her. All thoughts of duty to
either God or man had been buried
in that tiny grave in the Laverstone
churchyard. She only wanted to know
what would bring most happiness t.o
herself and the man she loved.
But at the end of the two days she
had come to no definite decision. The
wheel of her thoughts revolved contin
ually, and she always came back to
th point from which she had started.
On the third day, however, Sir Wil
liam Tankerlane asserted His author
ity as master of the house, and insist
ed on an interview with his wife.
'Laura," he said humbly, as he en
tered her room and closed the door
behind him, "I am sorry that I had to
insist on seeing you. But it is impos
sible for us to go on .ike this. I be^
haved like a brute the other night.
But I was not in r.iy right senses at
the time. The way you left me after
the funeral to return here alone, the
thought of the poor little kid—I had to
stupefy my brain with drink. I don't
excuse myself, but I ask for your for
giveness."
Laura did not answer him, and she
did not even turn her head towards
him. She was seated in a large arm
chair facing the window, and she
stared out at the trees in the park
tier hands were folded listlessly in
her lap, and her whole attitude was
one of dreamy indifference. She seem
ed singularly beautiful in her deep
mourning. The black dress set off
the whiteness of her skin, and the
glinting copper of i.er hair.
The man paused for a second, and
bit his lips with vexation.' Then he
crossed the room to her side.
"Laurie," he said gently, "have you
nothing to say to me?"
"Nothing," she replied,^without turn
ing her head.
"Does that mean you refuse to for
give me?"
"It means that I cannot forget."
He seated himself in a chair facing
her, and looked into her hard, pitiless
eyes.
"Laurie," he said slowly, "we can
not go on like this. It will make life
unbearable for both of us."
"You knew what to expect," she re
plied. "You can hardly have expected
me to love you."
"I knew what to expect," he said
gravely "but when the child died, I
thought that perhaps—oh, can't you
understand, Laurie? -It was our child
ft(V
V'""-
i*!'* v-
f.
OTTTJTVrWA COTJRIET,
)QWKETS
Chocolate Bonbons
are the most delicious and
the most wholesome of
confections and have the
largest sale of any in the
world.
They are sold in sealed
packages, are always of
the same superfine quality
and always the best.
The Walter M. Lowney Co.
NAME ON EVERY PIECE
—not yours, not mine, but ours. And
I hoped that the loss might bring us
nearer together."
"It has set us farther apart," she
answered coldly. "It was for the
sake of the child that I married you.
And now—" She looked at him for
a moment in hatred, and then rose to
her feet. "You see how God has ap
proved of my sacrifice," she cried
fiercely. "But I am not crushed yet.
I still have strength to live my own
life. All the better part of me is
dead. It was buried yonder—in the
churchyard. I gave myself to you for
the sake of my son. There is no rea
son now why I should stay with you."
"Only your duty as a wife," -the
man replied.
"Duty!" she exclaimed. "I have
done* my duty, and see how acceptable
it has been in the sight of God. I can
promise yoi: that henceforth duty will
not trouble me that have no con
science, no honor, no regard for any
one but myself. My whole life has
been a sacrifice—and it has been all in
vain."
"May I ask what you Intend to do?"
he said ealmlv. "What does all this
high-flown speech boil down to? Tell
me plainly what you are going to do?
We may as well be honest with each
other."
"I do not know yet what I am ?»o
ing to do." she replied. "It is possible
that I may leave you. and find the
happiness that I can never find here."
In other words," said Tankerlane,
"you are thinking of John Shil."
She did not answer, but, moving
closer to the window, she looked out
across the park. In the distance the
spire of the village church was plainly
visible through a network of leafless
trees.
"I shouldn't go to John Shil, if' I
were you," he continued. "It would
not be to his advantage."
ohe turned on him savagely. "Ah,
you'd speak, would you," she cried.
"But your oath holds good.'
"I am not sure that, it does," he re
plied, "but even if I break it, I shall
only be following your example. Per
haps I, too, am in that frame of mind
which can fling honor and morality to
the four winds of heaven."
"Please leave me," she said faintly
"I did not seek this interview. It 's
cruel at such a time as this. It is an
insult to our dead child. Please leave
me. I shall do nothing yet. I must
have time to think."
"Laurie!" he cried passionately.
"You know how I love you!"
She was silent, and, walking away
from him, picked up a book, and open
ed it.
He glanced at her for a moment,
then the look of entreaty on his face
changed to a hard smile, and he left
the room.
For a whole month Laura remained
at Tankerlane Court. She was rarely
seen outside the house, and never out
side the grounds. Her father was the
only visitor that she ever received,
and, though she^welcomed his visits as
a relief from the monotony of her life
life, she never opened her heart to
him, and the old man prayed in vain
for some softening Influence on the
apparent hardness of her nature.
In the neighborhood it was rumored
that Lady Tankerlane's mind had be
come unhinged by the death of her
child. It was only natural that she
should cut herself off from all society
but the servants' gossip had revealed
a most unnatural state of affairs at
Tankerlane Court. It was reported
that Sir William Tankerlane and his
wife never met, and lived separate
lives in the same house. That this
should be the case, in the.face of the
recent sad event which ought to have
drawn husband and wife more closely
together, set many tongues wagging.
And Lady Tankerlane formed a staple
subject of conversation, both at the
dinner tables of the rich and in the
public houses of the entire district.
"There's something at the bottom of
all this," was the verdict among her
social equals.
'Tis the judgment of the Lord,"
was the opinion of the lower classes,
who are always well informed as to
the intentions of the Almighty.
"My poor child," cried old Sam
Vane, in the silence and solitude ,of his
home. "Oh Lord, have mertfy on her
in her hour of trouble."
But Laura herself lived her own dull
monotonous life, as though every min
ute of it were a task that she had vo
perform against :.er will. Dreary day
succeeded dreary day, and the only
hours of peace were the hours of
sleep. Remorse, regret, bitterness of
spirit, rebellion against the world and
^lftBW!l^||f^lf 1)111 Wi I yiM^iiiniild.]
It l\ -u
4
'H CLrjf*^ »_
7***
Him who made it—these were the
devils that had taken up their abode in
her heart. And their voices shrieke
and babbled through all the long grey
night.
Then one evening she found a news
paper laid upon her dinner
table. A, small paragraph was
carefully marked in blue pencil, and
as she read it, the hot blood rushed
to her cheeks and the paper trembled
in her hands. The paragraph, which
was part of a column of society news,
announced the engagement of Mr.
John Shil to the well known actress,
Miss Leonore Jackson.
For a few moments Laura stood mo
tionless. Her powe of thought and
movement were paralysed. The lines
of print danced before her eyes against
a crimson background, like devils
dancing in the flames of hell.
Then she walked unsteadily to the
bell and rang it.
"Who sent this paper up here?" she
asked the maid who answered the
bell.
"Sir Willian sent it, my lady."
"Thank you," Laura said curtly.
"You can go."
And when the girl had left the room
Laura Tankerlane laughed, and, go
ing to a sideboard, poured herself out
a tumbler full of wine, and drank half
of it at a single gulp. The news, in
stead of reconciling her to her mar
riage with Sir William, had fired her
mind into a white hot flame of fury.
So long as John Shil' was free she
could wait, she could drag out the
weary hours in the hope that time
would set all things right at last. But
if John Shil once married this other
woman, he would be lost to her for
ever.
"I will take him from her," she
cried "I will have not pity. What a
fool I was to listen to her pleadings!
Yet you could imagine that any wom
an would be so vile? I will take him.
I will live my own life. All else can
go to the wall, xiere's an end to the
long grey night, an end to sorrow, an
end to dull respectability and honor,
and prudence, and all the words that
men have coined to make slaves of
their womenkind. Here's an end to it
all, I say, an end to the night and
here's to the health of the dawn—the
dawn of love."
^he raised the glass to her lips, nnd
then, as though seized with a sudden
madness, she flung it on the table, and
the red wine spurted un from the
cloth like blood.
(To oe Continued.)
Foster's Weather Bulletir
Copyrighted, 1908, by ... T. Foster
Washington, D. C., Oct. 3.—Last
bulletin gave forecasts of disturbance
to crosST continent 2 to 7, v/artn wave
1 to 6, cool wave 5 to 9. The most
notable features of this disturbance
were expected to be lti very low tem
peratures and its two frost n-nvos, one
preceding and the other following it
Next disturbance will reach Pacific
coast about 6, cross Pacific skye by
close of 7. great central v&Ueys t, to
10, eastern states 11. Warm wave
will cross Pacific slope about great
central valleys 8, eastern states 10.
Cool wave will cross Pacific slope
about 9, great central valleys 11, east
ern states 13.
This disturbance will also be pre
ceded and followed by a frost wave
that will reach (he middle latitudes
and the last frost wave will be follow
ed by one of the warmest waves of
the month.
All the disturbances October will
be of greater force than usual, but I
am not exppcting dangerous storms
from this disturbance. Rain fall will
be less than usual and when this
storm wave and its accompanying
weather features shall have passed
the coldest part of October will have
gone by.
Good cotton weather will follow this
disturbance till near October 20, when
a killing frost will stop much of the
top cotton growth.
I predicted great fall in tempera
tures with frosts, to reach meridian
90, eastward bound, on 23 and 24, and
the forecast was good. De Voe ha 1
this cool wave and frosts gauged to
reach the eastern states on 23 and 24.
While I got the better of De Voe in
that forecast he was not so very far
wrong. De Voe has surely bested the
weather bureau in long range fore
casts for the District of Columbia and
the weather bureau man seems to
have dropped out of the contest. Prof.
Garriott is probably the most success
ful short range forecaster in the world
and he is therefore an honor to the
weather bureau, but in long range
forecasting the water is too deep for
him and indications are that De Voe
will drive him from the field.
De Voe's work is not without dis
crepancies but he is a worthy compet
itor and I welcome him as much. I
hope that newspapers not publishing
my forecasts will take up his and I
say this because I believe his work
will aid in making planetary long
range weather forecasts acceptable to
all.
Sunspots.
Most scientists now recognize that
sunspots are In someway, related to
our weather cijanges. I have all the
time believed that planetary positions
cause both sunspots and our jveathpr
changes, but I did not have tne posi
tive proof and could not demonstrate
as to the sunspots. Recent work,
however, Is bringing to light, more
clearly the method of nature's work
as to the sunspots and I will probably
soon be able to fully demonstrate the
exact causes of the sunspots.
So far as I can now see, when I
have found the relations between
planetary positions, unspots, the
aurora and our weather changes it
will then be possible to formulate
perfectr system of long range weather
forecasts.
C3N :53T
4
"3 VTW
\T
Blind Boone Co., to Entertain
Nelson's Opera House
Oct. 12.
at
Batavia, October 2.—The Blind Boone
Concert Co., will give one of their ex
cellent concerts at Nelson's opera
house at this place on Monday evening,
October 12. Everybody is invited. Re-
Srfi# BWfp-j-tt^nri
I ffi-mi-ji^ I rlfi itlhat"min'ali,i4i!r
.fmj n1ii'i,iiTj^i'ii.».VT^itr^M^ t-i'cu^fe8
Baking
Powder
2
*»-r
lt
Of all sad words of
tongue or pen—The
saddest are these:
"It might have been
Avoid the mishaps the disappoint
ments the "bad luck* in baking, by
avoiding Poor Baking
[ALUMET
Des Moines,' Oct. 1.—Iowa Demo
crats have been placed in a peculair
and embarrassing position by the de
velopments of the campaign, owing to
the sudden changes of base else
where along the firing line. When. Mr.
Bryan opened the activities of the
present engagement in Iowa, the tac
tics were plainly of a conciliatory na
ture with reference to his dealings
with the Roosevelt following. Not
only did he find much to commend in
the Republican leader's record, but
the word was quietly passed along
the line at conferences with Iowa
Democrats to use no derogatory lan
guage In dealing with the president.
This line of action was adopted im
mediately after the Denver convention
when Theodore Bell in a conference
with Mr. Bryan at Fairvlew voiced
the general indignation aroused* by
Permanent Chairman Clayton's attack
or. the president. Mr. Bell warned the
Democratic candidate that if he look
ed for any support in the far west,
such attacks on Mr. Roosevelt should
be discouraged.
Following the instructions of the
Democratic nominee, Iowa orators
adopted laudatory tactics in referring
to the president. Fred White, Demo
cratic candidate for governor, went so
far as to thank him on behalf of
Democracy "for having performed for
his country's good so valuable a serv
ice as to constitute a new epoch in
the nation's history."
Trusting that the president would
be guided by preceding and behave
like a well mannered testator when
his heirs are wrangling in the courts
for his possession. Mr. Bryan was en
couraged to go so far as
to
set him­
self up as the sole remaining and
bonaflde legatee of the Roosevelt doc
trine. He pleaded his case eloquently
before the eloctoral jury, setting forth
his political likeness to the man whose
property he coveted. But In this in
stance the party most interested in
the disposition of the estate refused
to remain buried in the graveyard of
precedent. With a voice reflecting
nothing sepulchral he took the wit
ness stand in behalf of equity and
cleared away all doubts as to the
heirship.
President Roosevelt's Bryan letters
served seats on sale at Copeland's
store, Batavia, Iowa.
Other Batavia News.
Miss Louise Creamer, who has been
visiting her sister, Mrs. F. M. Reno
and other relatives in this vicinity left
last week for California to visit her
mother, Mrs. Eva Wertz.
Brs. Rollin Hocking of Bloomfield, is
visiting relatives in town.
Mr. and Mrs. J. W. Bean made an
overland trip to Ottumwa Thursday.
Mrs. Blanch Dematters and son of
Golf, Okla., also Mlhs Blanch Durjuid.
of Illinois, are visiting at the home of
Mr. and Mrs. A. Dematter's.
D. F. Smith, a man of about 60 years
of age, had the misfortune to fall from
a house that he was working on and
bruised him up considerably.
Rev. W. S. Stinson, one of Ottuni
wa's evengelists, will preach at the
M. E. church at this place Sunday,
October 4. Everybody invited.
Mrs. Bessie Frank, of Des Moines, is
visiting with Mrs. L. E. Copeland.
H\ S. Scott left Monday for Omaha
and other points farther west.
Mrs. H. D. Kreigh, Mrs. E. R. Robin
son- and Miss Gretta Lewis are spend
ing a few days in Chicago visiting rel
atives and friends.
Albert T. Holder, son of Rev. and
Mrs. Holder, of this citv, has been
nominated for county treasurer in
Carbon county, Montana.
Glenn Ffshei son of Dave Fishel, of
this place, had the misfortune while
j:'/
Hi
$ *7 -vy.
Received Highest Award World's Pure
Food Exposition, Chicago, 1907
The Products of the Farms and
the Prices They Have Brought
The following is tn extract from a speech delivered in the house of
representatives on March 25, 1908, by Congressman Ernest M. Pollard of
Nebraska:
I wish to call your attention for few moments to a comparison of the
growth of agriculture on the farms during Democratic and Republican ad?
ministrations. I will only elaborate upon a few of the leading crops.
I find that during the administration of President Harrison the average
annual acreage of corn was 74,280,396 acres. The average annual yield of
corn during his administration was 1,822,870„0C0 bushels. The aver
age annual price per bushel on the 1st day of December was 39.7 cents. Dur
ing the Cleveland administration the aver-ge acreage and yield was practic
ally the same as during the Harrison administration, but the value of the
crop was $102,000,000 less in round numbers. The average annual price per
bushel was 7^i cents less per bushel. During the McKinley and Roosevelt
administrations the average annual acreage increased to almost 88,000,000
acres. The average annual production amounted to 2,240,634,463 bushels.
The average annual value was $869,575,309. The average annual price per
bushel was 38.9 cents. I find that the value of the corn crop during the
last year of the Harrison administration was 6.8 per cent, greater than it
was during the first year of his administration. I find that during the last
year of the Cleveland administration the value of the corn crop actually
decreased 16 per cent from what it was during the nrst year of his ad
ministration.
Bryanesque Change of Front Places
Democrats in Embarrassing Position
a
*3
Powder the cheap, or
big can kinds and the high
price Trust brands. They are unreliable—they too often
fail—Don't trust them.
Put your faith in Calumet—the only strictly high-grade
baking powder sold at a moderate cost. We absolutely
guarantee that the results will please you. Guaranteed
under all pure food laws—both State and National.
Refuse substitutes—get Calumet.
hav§ been the most deliciously trench
antipisitles that have figured in. an
American political campaign for many
years.
Thus suddenly rebuffed and unable
to establish a claim to the coveted
policies, Mr. Bryaa, after the first
of contact with the witness, came to
the conclusion that the heritage was,
after all not worth having and began
a vituperative attack on the record o£
the president. What had lie accom
plished anyway? No trust magnate
had been placed in jail. Great com
binations existed still. He had other
remedies for their extermination
which would effectually stiffle all cor
porate cancers.
So Iowa is listening, with its sense
of humor sharpened by the situation,
to Hon. Fred White praising Roose
velt to the skies and at the same
time reading in the newspapers the bit
ter attacks on the same strenuous
party from the pen of the leadei of
national Democracy.
Mr. White's troubles do not cease
here, however. In past campaigns he
has been one of the most vehement
and bitter opponents of Governor
Cummins. This year, however, the
Iowa governor was placed in a class
with Roosevelt and held up as a model
of every political virtue. This was
before an arrangement had been
made for a senatorial primary. It
was hoped that by soft-soaping the
friends of the executive, they could
be wheddled into voting for the Dem
ocratic nominee for governor. But
when the legislature provided for an
other. primary, it was found that
every boost for Governor Cummins
was a knock on Claude Porter who
also aspires to the Allison toga. This
line of tactics is now abandoned and
the entire Republican administration
Is being berated.
Those who have pointed out the
fact that Mr. Bryan and Democracy
could not be trusted to maintain action
along one issue in two consecutive
campaigns have stated the case too
mildly. Experience of the past few
weeks has shown that they reserve
the right to abandon one line of at
tack, forget it and take up another en
tirely contradictory of the first, even
before the campaign has run half its
length.
pulling a tug of war at school with a
wire to get his finger cut off by a loop
in the wire.
Miss Margaret Redman has returned
to OttumVa after a short visit with her
parents. Mr. and Mrs. R. R. Redman
north of town.
TWIN BABIES FOUND DEAD
Two-Months-Old Daughters of Bona
parte Couple Die Under Sus
picious Circumstances.
Bonaparte, Oct. 3.—(Special)—The
infant twin daughters, aged two
months, of Mr. and Mrs. John Brady,
were found dead In their bed yester
day, and suspicion being aroused, a
coroner's inquest was held in the
afternoon before Justice of Peace C.
L. George, acting coroner, with an
impaneled jury. Several witnesses
were examined but no evidence of a
startling nature was produced and the
verdict of the jury was that "they
came to their death from causes un
known."
The parents of the two babes have
four Other children. They are unable
to read or, write. The burial was held
today.
Ar
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