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The sea coast echo. [volume] (Bay Saint Louis, Miss.) 1892-current, September 29, 1906, Image 2

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Persistent link: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn86074033/1906-09-29/ed-1/seq-2/

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WCLL-CNOUGH.
*•
Ti?oT- n ' r -i^ ie j Va J^ c - v " ell Enough” men are ear el era and joyous and free:
01 * and they cat and they love a hit, and they grow old happily;
An,l *, * iaz J' da-lance gleam the peaks of the unknown; “Fame,”
i ne that has traveled that difficult steep can enter the valley again.
The way is o’er rocks, sharp and jagged and cruel; through fierce heat, with a dead
\v i V ng tlurst ;
How C hl ln'J ater n HpS rnol ],p l ow the depths of the way that to him is accursed,
and frre- m ' am ' tor a nen dly hand-clasp, for the smiles that were ready
BUt H view. y not tUr " b?ck ' 50 he sLni Z' ]es along, with the joy of achievement in
vJ? B*’ 8 *’ l° n3 j° u ™ e -V ’ see torn hands and feet,and face drawn and wrinkled
' 11 u pain;
\nd S VI. n ..'l S at l> th *l BUm 7 lit of ~ ro3t dcsire - d ' re H r -n his priceless gain.
V- .. . , n a “? the sadness oi ;• cart-breakl was not that a man’s c-rv of woe?
w -i tic longs to return to tue land he has lost—to the ’Well-Enough” valley below.
'1 —Grace E. Bostwick, in New York Tribune,
.
l
%AN OUT-OF-SCHOOL LESSON f
; By HILDA RICHMOND. v|>
I think old Mr. Winter is too par
ticular for any ns?,” said Mark Car
no.', throwing his cap on a chair and
hastening to the supper l e . “Ev
* 1 ' thing has to be done hi ; way, and
its always tho longest way, too.”
What is tho matter. Mark?” in
quired his father. “I th nght you
i'kod. the place very much.”
“I do, papa, but it seems so un
reasonable to do things die most
tedious way when it don’t matter
hew they’re done.”
‘.Mr. Winton pays for your time
till S o’clock every even In;, and has
a right to say what you sh ’I do and
bow. You would not make a good
soldier, Mark, for the fir; r duty of
sin enlisted man is to obey without
questioning. I must go to Chicago on
the 7.C0 train and haven’t time now
to talk about your work, but you
must give satisfaction if ' u expect
to keep the place. Bea good boy
rml mind your mother. Remember,
there are four or five bo; s for every
place, and Mr. Winton aa easily
find one to fill yours if you don’t
suit.”
, Mr. Carney’s words s t his son to
thinking, and he finish*: 1 his supper
in silence; but when tho evening
lamp shone down on the pile of
school books he had brought home
v iMi him. Mark broke out again:
“I might have had all these prob
lems worked if he hadn’t been so
particular about his old barrels.”
“Don’t you think it very impolite
to criticise a gentleman of sixty?”
inquired Mrs. Carney, reprovingly.
“A boy of twelve should know better,
p.nd I was sure my sun did till I
hoard him at the tabb* this evening.”
“Well, mamma, he is unreasona
ble. 1 don’t say that to be impolite,
but only to let you know how he
makes me work. Every afternoon
this week I’ve been piling old barrels
in Dio storeroom when there were
no errands to do, and Mr. Winton
wants them arranged just so. As if
it made any difference so they’re out.
of tho way! Onco or twice a year a
huckster from a little town comes to
buy them to ship butter and produce
in. Fred Miller says he’s cranky
about everything, and no one can
pleaso him.”
“Was Fred in the storeroom? 1
thought Mr. Winton’s rules forbade
people sitting around talking to the
clerks."
“lie wasn't inside. Ho just stood
at (ho door and talked awhile. Be
sides, Mr. Winton is out of town to
day, and wouldn’t have seen him if
be had come in, though I didn’t ask
him.”
“Did you arrange the barrels as
Mr. Winton directed?”
“Well, not exactly. He said to
take everything from one side of the
storeroom and pile the barrels in
tiers along the wall, but there were
some boxes there the same height as
tho barrels, so I lot them stay. 1
suppose I could have crowded them
closer together, but the stack looks
all right from the outside. He won’t
be around when the man loads them
up, so it don’t make any difference.
I? would have taken another whole
evening to put them in as he said,
and he’ll think I’m a swift worker
when he gets back and finds it all
done.”
• “What if he asks you about it?”
asked Mrs. Carney. Her son’s care
less ways had long been a source of
worry to her, and it was in the hope
of having them corrected that she al
lowed him to work in the store. No
amount of talking and reasoning had
been able to convince him of the dan
ger of forming slipshod habits in
youth.
“No fear of that,” said Mark, con
fidently. “I’ve worked there six
months, and I don’t believe he's been
in the storeroom more than twice.
He’s forgotten all about them by this
lime, I suppose.”
“1 can’t see why it makes any dif
ference to you what you do. He pays
for your time, and if he wants you
to take six afternoons to put old bar
rels away instead of three, why, you
might as well do it. Was it such a
Laird task?”
“No, easy as anything, but, you
see, when I’m in the store waiting for
errands to do I work my problems for
tho next day. I have to sit on a
stool at the cashier's desk where the
clerks can call to me, and sometimes
it’s fifteen minutes between jobs.
Can't you help me a little to-night,
mamma? It’s S o’clock and I’ve only
worked two. They are so hard and
long.”
Mark looked up in surprise when
his mother began swiftly working
out of the long problems, only say
ing—-
“It is rather late. You take the
third, and I’ll try the fourth.”
It was the first time Mrs. Carney
had over worked out a problem for
him, so it was no wonder Mark was
astonished. She was always willing
to explain and lend a helping hand
in the difficult parts, but never solved
them outright for him. She thought
it encouraged cheating to do the
work that belonged to someone else,
and always kept Mark at his tasks
till all were mastered.
“Did you get the third?” she in
quired half an hour later. “Here
are the fifth and sixth. How many
are there in the lesson?”
“But. mamma, this isn’t the way
Miss Fillmore makes us work them.
J can’t copy them on my paper for
to-morrow.”
I don’t see why not,” said Mrs.
: Canrey, without looking up. “There
, a.ro several methods of solving these
i problems, and I used the shortest
one. The answer is correct, and that
is the necessary thing. Where is
the rest of the eighth written out?
It seems to be all mixed up, or I
can’t find it,” and she turned the*
papers with an abstracted air.
iss Fillmore says we must use
i the long way for the present, and
when we are older the short cuts
will come naturally to us. I’m so
sorry I can’t have these, for I wanted
a good average this month. If our
averages are high for the term, we
won’t have to be examined.”
“Just write your name at the top
of my sheets and hand them in,”
suggested Mrs. Carney. “Miss Fill
more will probably never look farther
than the answers, and you will get
your high grade very easily. I won
der why she is so particular about
methods.”
“I see what you are trying to do,
mamma,” said Mark suddenly. “You
are showing me where I was wrong
about the barrels this afternoon. I
ought to have put them up as Mr.
Winton said, without grumbling or
wondering why.”
“You have guessed it exactly,
Mark. One of the greatest faults
children have is the idea that they
know more than older people. I
am glad you can see why my prob
lems cannot be given to Miss Fill
more. oven if you copy them. Her
method is not the shortest one, but
is the best for beginners. What sort
of work would be done in school if
each pupil did the work as he pleased
and was counted perfect if he could
get the correct answer to his prob
lems regardless of method? It is the
same way ’ ■ business, and those who
rise from low to higher places are the
people who obey orders exactly as if
they were soldiers?”
“I’m sorry I worried you, mam
ma.” said Mark in manly fashion.
“If you will explain this part to me
I’ll try to work them all, and when
Mr. Winton rimes home I'll tell him
about the barrels. By working over
time I can straighten them out, but
it will take a long time.”
“That pleases mo more than any
thing else you could possibly do. I
think it will be the turning point of
your life if you carry out your re
/
solve, for no one can hope to succeed
who has careless ways,” said Mrs.
Carney.
It was late that night when the
last problem was worked, but Mark
had his reward next day when Miss
Fillmore read out the names of the
scholars who had perfect lists, and
his was the first on the list. Fie
worked harder than ever that day,
and it was the recollection of his
high grades that helped him to make
his way to Mr. Winton’s private office
as soon as school was out.
It seemed to Mark that Mr. Win
ton looked very stern as he stam
mered and tried to tell his story. At
last something in the old gentleman’s
eyes gave him courage, and he told
all about the barrels, not sparing
himself in the least. A great weight
rolled off his mind when he said:
“If you’ll only give me a chance,
I’ll put the ’ -reels as you want them,
and then try to show you that I don't
always shirk.”
“Why did you come and toll me
this?” asked Mr. Winton. “Did your
conscience trouble you, or were you
afraid I might find you out?”
“My mother showed me last night
that the only way to do things is the
right way, and while you are paying
me for my time, your way is right,”
said Mark. “I thought it didn’t make
any difference so they were out of the
way, but I can see now that I ought
to have piled them as you said with
out thinking about your reason for
doing it that way. I hope you will let
me work after the store closes every
night till they are all in place.”
“That’s the right spirit, my boy.
Tel! your mother I am proud to have
her son in my store. She used to
play with my little girls years ago,
and I have never forgotten her frank,
winning ways,” said Mr. Winton.
“Now, about those barrels. You may
begin this evening and work an hour
each night till they are in order.”
“Thank you, sir,”said Mark, heart
ily. “I wonder why I always thought
he was unreasonable,” he thought to
himself as he left the store an hour
later than usual, but with a light
heart. “I expected he'd fire me right
away.”
“How many barrels?”asked a voice
a week later, as Mark proudly placed
the last one against the wall. He
had been working very swiftly to get
through, but there were no vacant
spaces among them.
Mark ran his eye over the orderly
pile and made a quick calculation.
“One hundred and fifty-six,’’ came
the ready response.
“Right, and now do you see why
they must be in order? The man
who buys them usually comes on our
busiest days, and it is necessary that
we knew how many there are in
stantly. It is likely he will bo here
next Saturday, and you can easily see
how much work your carelessness
would have caused. We had qne boy
who stored taem away over some
boxes and barrels of salt, and the
wagons had to be unloaded to count
ihem, as they ran short at the last
minute.”
“I’m very glad .hat will not hap
pen this time,” said Mark, with, i
sigh of relief.
“I am very glad, too,” said Mr.
Winton. “Take your mother's advice
and remember It pays In the end to
be strictly honest. By the way* are
you thinking of giving Up your place?
Fred Miller said you were, and ap
plied for It last week. I told him 1
would not promise till I had heard
from you about It.*’
“I don’t want to give it up if yea
are satisfied with me,” said Mark,
thinking of how Fred had encouraged
him to slight nis tasks. *‘i want to
Prove that I can obey orders.”
It was a long time before Mark
conquered his habit of grumbling
over his tasks, but in time the good
habits became as fixed as the bad
ones had been. Every time he
■ thought his employer unreasonable
he thought of the barrels, and tried
to remember that he must not expect
to know the reason for everything he
had to do.
“What do you think, mother?” ho
said laughingly, as he came in from
work several years later. “I found a
boy piling up barrels in the store
room just as I did when I was new at
the business.”
“What did you do?” inquired Mrs.
Carney.
“Told him my experience,” said
the tall youth, promptly. “He took
my little lecture good naturedly and
began over again. How bumptious
and important I must have acted
when I was his age!”
“That seems a long time ago, and
now you are one of the best clerks
they have,” said Mrs. Carney, proud
ly. “Yes, it is true,” she went on, as
Mark protested with very red cheeks
against this statement. “Mr. Win
ton told me so yesterday, and says
you will have a still better place as
soon as you have finished school. I
am sure it helped you very much to
have to work after the others had
gone home, even if it seemed hard
just then.”
“It helps mo yet, mother. I never
go Into the storeroom that I don't
think of it and feel grateful to you
and Mr. Winton. It makes me have
more patience with boys younger
than I am, too, for someone had to
have lots of patience with me—and
does yet,” said Mark, stooping to kiss
his mother. —Zion’s Herald.
DVST^IJ
In tho Journal fur Infektionskrank
heiten Dr. Ford describes his method
of vaccinating as a remedy for mush
room poisoning. He found, by experi
menting, that animals into which ho
had injected an autitoxine could stand
a dose of poison ten times stronger
than others.
It is asserted by high authorities
that neither great heat nor long main
tenance of the requisite temperature
is required to sterilize milk suspected
of containing the germs of diseases,
such as tuberculosis. The bacilli of
that terrible disease are destroyed by
a temperature of 195 degrees in five
minutes.
The Prince of Monaco, acknowledged
to the the greatest living authority on
oceanography, lias decided to establish
in Paris an institution for seabed re
search and will endow it with some
thing like $1,000,000. He has spent a
great deal of money in searching out
tlie secrets of the sea. His splendid
yacht Princess Alice is fitted up with
fine laboratories and photographic
rooms.
' - r _ _
A Berlin paper tells of a now device
(hat makes herring fishing easy. A
microphone, which magnifies sounds,
is plunged into the sea to ascertain
if fish are pasing that way. A wjre
connects the submerged microphone
with an ordinary receiver, with which
one listens to what is going on in the
depths of the sea. Excellent results
have been obtained in the North Sea
by the invention for signaling the pass
ing of the herring shoals.
It is said by some students of tbe
origin of the great iron and steel in
dustry that the Japanese many gene
rations ago used to make steel in a
ouridus manner which is not wholly
understood. They forged#iron into the
shapes desired and then buried it eight
or ten years in marshy ground.
Through some process of nature, which
may have been due to the presence of
peculiar chemicals in the soil, it came
out steel.
The manufacture of cement in the
United States continues to make re
markable progress. Whereas in 1890
there were sixteen factories, producing
annually 335,000 barrels of Portland
cement, there were, in 1905, eighty-two
plants, with an estimated output of
31,000,000 barrels. The manufacture
has increased about a hundredfold in
sixteen years, for in ISS9 the total pro
duction was 300,000 barrels. Since the
great extension of the use of this ma
terial, tho amount of natural cement
produced iu America has rapidly de
clined. .
■pt, f ,* t
The enormous salt deposits in Kan
sas, beginning in Ellsworth and Sa
line counties, extends south through
the counties of Rice, McPherson, Staf
ford, Reno, Harvey, Kingman. Sedg
wick. Harper and Sumner. Salt wells
are found outside of this district, but
it is believed that their water is made
salt by coming in contact with the salt
bed within the counties named. A few
years ago it was estimated that Kan
sas had twenty trillion barrels of salt
and could alone supply the demand of
ihe United States for more than a mi!
lion years, —' %
~ - -
Landlord's Share.
The Turkish bey landlord in Mace
donia gets half the farmer’s pro
duce. Every village supports a num
ber of Turkish policemen, who are
really parasites, the average house
hold paying them $6.25 out of an
income of $50 —not for protection,
but for a precarious immunity* from
. *
outrages.
An Epitaph.
Beneath these stones reclin® th®
the bones
Of ’Pologetic Brown,
Most pathetic* ’pologetic
Feller in this town.
Asked to be forgiven, sir*
Minute he was born;
’Pclogized fer livin’, sir.
Reg’lar, night and morn.
’Pologized fer calin’,
An’ when be went to meetin
Prayed the Lord, “Excuse me, please.
fer askin’ so an’ sol”
When be courted Susan
lie went right on excusin’—.
’Pulngized fer askin’ her as scon’s
she’d answered, “No!”
Every:nc picked on ’im.
Cur dogs was “sicked” on ’im,
Brown he took ’is martyrdom with
pious, humble pride;
Fin’ally, jest to spite us,
He got ’pendicitus,
Tologizod fer troublin’ us, then wont
away and died.
Here lies Brown, and let us speak
With due respect for such;
H v r n Inver the mild and meek,
But wo don’t need ’em much.—
Wallace Irwin in “Success Maga
zine.”
?J^S3ESHSZSBJ^SZSZScIS2SH.SHSZScSa
| MUCH CHUCK. |
n tO
All day long and every day while I
was at the agency ho sat upen the
trader’s stoop or lounged upon his
count : rs. I often wondered at Bon
hcmine's tolerance, and set it down
to he easy-going ways of the French-
Vmeritan. Cf all the Eros Ventres
it Y ! v Water, Much Chuck seemed
n st to a useless vaga
bond.
Then one evening, for a silver quar
or the ‘ 1 a ior sent him to the camp
if ihe agency’s “boss farmer,” six
miles away. Much Chuck carried
ifty pounds cf side perk on a shoul
der, and the rate at which he loped
across the pr .'trie was surprising. Bon
tienvm ' lunched as ho saw me looking
tl aliened Gros Ventre.
“Didn’t think there was so much
action there, heh?” ho said. “Much
Chuck is like the rest of our In
dians — pay one for doing what he
knows how to do, and away he goes,
fhat follow was on the police ferce
here twenty-five years ago, and did a
nice to this agency that no wnite
cldicr ecu' ! have done.
“After Sitting Bull had been run
off to Canada the troops were with
irawu from this neighborhood, and
soon we began to have trouble. First
a Gres Ventre siolc a pony from the
Crews; then a young Crow shot a
Gros Ventre in the hand. Alter that
and ski; raishing
hack and f rth, till at last .he Gros
Vena-es made a grand coup, and
came in with two hand ed Crow
ponies.
“Worse than all, the ra/cals ran
their booty into the govern ment cor
ral. McCall, the agent, suit ten of
Ms Indian police out to tura the herd
Pose. His men came bai k present
ly without their guns, revolvers and
ammunit ion belts.
"Much Chuck, then a yc ung fellow,
was t’ne only p Merman to retain his
arms. Ho had been kept on duty at
the office. As there were only a half
dozen ol 1 needleguns left in the
armory, McCall found I Imself in a
poor way to enforce anthority He
hadn’t even telegraph communication
with the posts five hundred miles
away.
“The Gros Ventres herded those
stolon ponies, and kert a lockout in
daytime, and at nigh, shut them in
the big corral under guard. The
agent then occupied the vacated bar
racks opposi’e what Is now the Gray
Sisters’ School, and the government
coral was in a loop of the river be
low, where a deep channel, cut into
the rocks, protected it on all sides
xcept that fa< ii; the agency. The
fort, or barracks, was a log quad
rangle built upon a little height over
looking the corral and the flats below.
My store stood outside, next to the
left wing of this quadrangle. The
Gros Ventre lodges, for the most part,
were strung along a fringe of tim
ber below the loop.
“For a number of days things went
on smoothly to all outward appear
ance. Then the Crows came. About
four hundred—all of Broken Kettle’s
band and some of the mountain Crows
beyond—rode down to the agency at
sunrise. They Vore mostly armed
with breech-loaders, and when they
summoned McCall out to them, I rec
kon his hair stood on end.
“Through their Interpreter they ac
cused him cf sending his Indians to
steal their horses, and they demanded
the return of the animals and a lot
of goods and rations for indemnity.
And McCall could only tell them, with
a great show of indignation that lie
was not responsible for any sort of
Indian thievery. He told them how
he had tried to turn their ponies loose
and what the Gros Ventres had done.
• This was openly admitting that he
had no authority over his Indians. But
he was anew man out here, and be
was scared and excited. V hen he
had finished, the Crows set up a howl
of wrath, and shook their guns at him.
They told him that they were going
to wipe out his Gros Ventres and then
bum the agency.
“The Crows outnumbered our In
dians two to one, and we had at the
barracks less than a dozen half-arm
ed employes. Broken Kettle had se
cured men and ponies from Gray
Bull’s mountain Crows—the worst lot
of untamed savages north of Mexico.
“As 1 stood in the doorway of my
store, taking in that angry crowd, I
admit that I was scared.
“I looked toward the Gros \ entre
village, and saw the inhabitants scur
rving, men, women, and children, to
the cover of the breaks just above
their teepees. From the broken cou
lees they could command the horse
corral with their rifles.
“The Crows had relied upon their
numbers and the justice of their claim
to gain the return of their ponies.
They had not expected they would
have to fight.
■“But now they wheeled, scattered,
and rode, with guns at a ready,
straight toward the corral. On they
went till a volley from the Gros Ven
tres halted them.
“They wheeled about, retreated
out of range, and opened fire on the
agency. Luckily, everybody who was
looking out of an opening had time
to dodge. They fired only a single
shot or so to the man. but every door
and window on that face of the bar
racks wks riddled. Only my store was
untouched.
“When their firing was checked, tbo
Crow chiefs rode back add forth in
front of their men, flourishing their
guns and whooping threats.
“It was plain that they held the
agency responsible for tS? taking of
their horses, and in a measure u*ey
were right.
“What was to be done? McCall
came hastily into ray store to
advice. But the matter had airily
gone beyond my wisdom in Indian af
fairs.
“Then a single figure appeared cn
oirr right—a policeman who had rid
den round from the stables in the
rear. It was young Much Chuck,
dressed in his blue uniform, riding a
white cavalry horse, with his rude
swung across the saddle in front.
“’He was trim and soldierly, not so
fat as now, and he made a fine show,
at which we looked for a second in
astonishment.
*“ ‘What can he be thinking of!’
said McCall. ‘The only fighting sol
dier I’ve got!’
“The Crows wondered, too. at first,
for Much Chuck rode straight toward
them. When close to a group of chiefs
he halted, raised his right hand, and
spoke some words in their own tongue.
Many of our Gros Ventres had a smat
tering of Crow.
“We could hear nothing of what was
raid until, at the close of the con
ference. a number of the Crow chiefs
shouted, ‘Ho-ho-ho!’ That was en
couraging.
“Then we saw Much Chuck ride on
down the line of the hostiles, pass
them, and go straight on toward the
Gres Ventres.
“To his fellows In the breaks he
made signs as if to approach them for
a talk. This he kept on doing until
he was opposite the horse corral,
when he turned suddenly and made a
dash to the gate, which was on the
side facing the fort. Then he jumped
quickly from his horse, threw the gate
wide open, and rushed in among the
ponies. In a second or two he had
the whole herd going at the open
ing like a flock of sheep.
“Then the Gros Ventres cut loose
with their rifles. In a half-minute’s’
firing they had killed a dozen ponies;
but Much Chuck was unhurt, and at
the tail cf the herd he jumped a
pony *and came on, lying flat upon its
back.
“Under a hail of shots he pushed
the big bunch out of range, and then,
with a whoop, the Crows swung in be
hind and took charge. They had re
covered all their own animals, except
the few killed, and some thirty or
forty Gros Ventre horses besides.
The capture satisfied them, and they
lode off. yelling.
"Then that brave policeman came
wa’king slowly toward the agency.
“ ‘The last of Much Chuck,’ said 1.
and I could hardly keep from crying.
McCall looked at me, winking hard.
“ ’He’s saved us,’ he said, ‘and the
Gros Ventres will skin Lim alive. I
can do nothing.’
“Much Chuck walked by without
so much as looking at *,s. He went
round the barracks and disappeared.
McCall left me to go to him, but
I never heard what the *gent said to
his policeman.
Some two Lours afterward Gros
Ventres began stringing up from their
village, and in a i’ttle vhile the group
of police cabins back c f the fort was
surrounded by Indians foot.
“While I stood looking out of my
rear door, I saw Mu. h Chuck come
out of his shack and walk toward a
bunch of Indians gathered at a corner
of the stockade. H< had painted his
face and body in >jllow and green,
and wore only the breech-cloth and
bonnet of eagle fea, hers. The chiefs
and others that he ;arae toward were
within a few rods of my rear yard,
and I could hear i click of breech
bolts as they uncovered the carbines
concealed beneath their blankets.
“ ‘lt’s all up with Much Chuck,’
thought I.
“He had come to surrender in time
to save an attack on his cabin, where
he had a wife and baby. I walked
out to the stockade fence, and stood
leaning against the timbers as Much
Chuck came up to the chief. The
young fellow looked the chief in tae
eye for a moment; then he spoke.
“ ‘Y'ou have seen,’ he said, ‘what 1
have done. I did it to save my poo
pie and because I was a soldier of
the Great Father. Your father here,
the agent, knew nothing cf my inten
tion —he is in no way to blame for
my acts. I am an Indian, —a Gros
Ventre —and 1 am not afraid to die.’
“When he had finished, his own
brother. Blue Face, leaped at him,
struck him on the mouth, snatched his
war-bonnet off, threw it on the ground
and stamped on it.
“ ‘You say you are a Gros Ventres.’
he shouted, ‘and I say yo / are a liar!’
and be stepped back and cocked his
gun. He would have shot Much
Chuck then and there, but I jumped
at Blue Face, flung him in a heap,
and wrenched his gun from Irs hands.
Then I stepped in front of Much
Chuck, and the words came hot and
fast. I suppose I never was so furi
ous.
“ ‘You miserable cowards!’ I said.
I will shoot the first one who lays a
hand on this brave soldier. H nv many
of you, this morning, expected to see
another sun? This man has turned
aside the vengeance of the Crows and
the anger also of your Great Father.
You are fools. Y'ou could not have
saved a horse of the stolen herd. Some
of your own are driven away. Y ery
well, I will pay you for them myself
—ten dollars in goods for each Gros
Ventre pony killed or taken.
“Well it happened I jumped in at
the right moment, and the pumise
of pay for their ponies saved Much
Chuck. Very likely that’s the reason,
since the police force was reduced,
that he sits round in my store eo
much.” —Youth’s Companion.
ISOLATE DEGENERATES.
Benefits to Society From Segregatioi
of All Deficients.
There is no reason why societj
should not relieve itself of the bur
den of mental and physical degen
erates in two or three generations ae
cording to Alexander Johnson, secre
tary of the National Conference ol
Charity and Correction. This can b<
accomplished very easily, Mr. John
son told the School of Philanthropy
simply by segregating these individ
ualS;
“They should be educated to the
fullest extent possible,” he said, “anc
it is astonishing what can be done
with a feeble minded child if it is
taught young. They should be madt
useful and happy and provided wilt
every possible amusement, from ‘Pnss
in the Corner’ to grand opera, bu l
they should not be permitted to share
the joys and sorrows of married life
“This is not a great deprivation,
and the only happiness possible tc
defectives is in an environment speci
ally adapted to their condition. R
the right environment it is very easy
;o make them happy-. They should
be taken into the care of the mothei
state from childhood until death, and
thereby the state will be serving not
only its own best interests, but those
of the defective Individuals. I don i
like paternalism in government, but
we can’t have too much maternalism
“The state is the greater parent and
has rights paramount to those of the
natural parent. For hundreds of years
the state has stepped in to protect a
child’s property against its natural
guardian. Later we came to see tha!
the state should protect a child’s pei
son against the violence of parents,
and now it is beginning to interfere
in behalf of the child’s intellect and
character.”
Mr. Johnson added that this segre
gation of defectives was merely the
beginning of a science of stirpiculture.
“The time is coming,” he said,
“when we will take just as much can?
in reproducing the human species as
we do now in feeding animals.”
Although Mr. Johnson believes in
eliminating bad stock, he thinks that
the idea of heredity has been greatly
overworked, and that environment is
a matter of infinitely more import
ance.
“I would rather he horn in the worst
slum, of the worst parents that ever
were,” he said, “and he removed to
a satisfactory environment at birth
than be born under the best possible
conditions and then he removed to a
bad environment. Heredity is a pow
erful factor, and we need never be
surprised at anything it does. There
is an aristocratic family in England
where one of the males in every sec
ond generation becomes Insane at the
age of forty-five. Think of the won
derful properties of a microscopic
speck of matter which will produce
such a chain of events, let this in
fluence is slight compared with that
of environment, and much that passes
as heredity is really the result of en
vironment.”
Mr. Johnson expressed the opinion
that Guiteau and probably Czolgosz
were defectives and ought to have
been sent to insane asylums, instead
of being executed.
“It is just as well, perhaps, to hang
those fellows and get them out of the
way,” he remarked. “It is cheaper
than confining them. But they aie
not morally responsible.”—New York
Tribune.
Bigness in Dakota.
“Y T es, sir,” resumed the Dakota
farmer, as the crowd of agriculturists
seated themselves round a little ta
ble; “yes, sir, we do things on ra ’her
a sizable scale. I’ve seen a man on
one of our big farms start out in the
spring and plow a straight furrow un
til autumn. The he turned around
and harvested back. We have some
big farms up there, gentlemen. A
friend of mine owned one which he
had to give a mortgage on. and I
pledge von my word the mortgage was
due at one end before they could get
it recorded at the other. You see,
it was laid out in counties. And
the worst of it is it breaks up fam
ilies so. Two years ago I saw a
whole family prostrated with grief
women yelling, children howling and
dogs barking. One of my men had
his camp truck packed on seven four
mule teams, s.nd be was going round
bidding everybody goodby.”
“Where was he going?”
“He was going Half way across the
farm to feed the pigs,” replied the Da
kota man.
“Did he ever get back to his fam
ily?”
“It isn't time for him yet. I p
there we send young married couples
out to milk the cows, and their chil
dren bring home the milk. lit-
Bits.
Timber Preservatives.
What will ultimately be the largest
plant in the world for treating timber
with preservatives is now operated at
Somerville, Tex., by the Atchison- To,
peka and Santa Fe Railrcad. \\ hile
every form of timber treatment is
used, the creosote system has proved
the most successful. Creosote H
shipped to Galveston in shiploads and
transported to Somerville, where it is
used to preserve timber of every var
iety. This is very expensive, as may
be seen when it is known that pi I ins
in its natural state costs about M
cents a foot, while a treated pile costs
between 90 cents and sl. But it pays
to go to the extra expense. Creo
sole piling that has been in the Gal
veston bridge for nearly fifteen years
is still sound and in a good state
of preservation; while the average
life of an untreated pile is less than
one year, many of them being unfit
for service after being in the water
thirty days. This quick destruction
is caused by the attacks of the teredo,
a salt-water mollusk that honeycombs
the wood to such an extent that in a
short time it will not hear is own
weight—Railway World.
Miss Belle McTyre, of Chesterfield,
Va„ recently killed a large eagle
which had been feasting for some
time on her chickens. The eagle
measured 5 feet 0 7-8 inches froxr
wing to wing.
®5rKiK5
BULLY TIMES.
These be happy moments.
These be golden hours, ,
When the summer solotlce *
Lazies all our powers.
And everybody’s careless.
Laggard on his feet.
Since nobody wants to
Make both ends meet.
Now in life worth living
And improvidence
Grows into a virtue
Of much excellence. .
What's the good of worry?
Care is in retreat.
Since nobody wants to
Make both ends meet.
W. J. Lafnpton in the New York
World.
AN AWFUL RISK.
Mr. Mosquito-—These meat dis
closures are startling.
Mrs. Mosquito—Yes; do be careful
what kind of man you bite.—New York
Sun.
THE LONG WAIT.
•Wife —i have been waiting for you
to come home.
Husband—Well, I was just waiting
for you to stop waiting. —New Yoik
Sun.
GOOD EVIDENCE.
•‘Do you think the auto will eventu
ally be the means of doing away with
horses?”
4 T know it. I’ve seen two killed
right in my own street.’ —Milwaukee
Sentinel.
OH, WHY ?
“We visited the slums yesterday.”
“Isn’t it awful the way people live?”
“Indeed, it is. Why will people per
sist in living in such sections?
Louisville Courier-Journal,
AMBITION.
[ ghe—Now that you have an auto
mobile that will break records, are
you not satisfied?
He —No. I want one that will break
trees and telegraph poles,—Lite.
TOO SWIFT.
“Do you think the opportunity
seeks the man?”
“Yes, hut some men go at such a
rapid pace it can’t catch up with
them.” —Detroit Free Press.
FINANCIAL SUCCESS.
Miss Askitt —'So you found marriagf
a failure, did you?
Mrs. Exwed—No, Indeed. The court
granted me $5,000 a year alimony. *
Chicago News.
FEMININ B VIBVV POINT.
Mrs. Hyker—My husband’s credi
tors ought to he happy because of his
bargain failure.
Mrs. Pyker —Bargain failure!
Mrs. Hyker— Yes. He's going to
pay them all forty-nine cents on the
dollar— Chicago News.
WOMAN'S ENDURANCE.
“Do you think a woman can endure
more than a man?” she asked.
“No,” ho replied. “How long could
any woman endure it if she had to sit
and hear her husband do all the talk-
Ing?” —Chicago Record-Herald.
AN EVEN BREAK.
“Ye?,” said the actor, “they rode iw
out of town on a rail; didn’t give us
a show.”
“And what was the reason?’
“I believe they claimed that wo did
not give them a show.’ Houston
Post.
ISOLATED.
It is fair to presume that (he wo
men's federation does not advocate
uplifting a husband by the hair of his
head. —Chicago Tribune.
Certainly not. ’Twould be entirely
too transitory. This would soon be
come a mere detached effort, iudiau
apulis News.
SURE SIGN.
“Some new neighbors have moved
iti next door to Crotchet’s.”
“Yes, and I guess Crotchet doesn t
like them.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I see he has finally agreed to buy
for his daughter the piano she want
ed.” —Philadelphia Press.
THE WORLD S WAY
“Who is * he man on hilltop"
the fellow who climbed to
fame and fortune.”
“And who are the fellows at tbs
foot of the hill?
“Friends of his—waiting to see how
undignified he'll look when he . -■ >
down! “—Atlanta Constitution.
WANTED A REAL ONE.
It was (’holly de Nitwit who spoke,
nervously tugging at the mole on his
upper Hp the while.
“I wish you to accept an apology.
Miss Dolly,” he began.
But the proud beauty interrupted.
“Not if it's yourself you’re referring
to," she said.
He never finished. Cleveland
Leader.
HER WORD OF HONOR.
“Don’t you love me?”
“Yes, dear, hut I’m already en
gaged.”
“Bieak ycur engagement.”
“Oh. George! That wouldn’t be hon
orable. An engagement is a sacred
thing, not lightly to be entered into
or broken off. Besides •”
“Well?”
“Well, I’m engaged to two men, and
that makes it even worse.” —Cleveland
Leader.
Flying fish of two distinct kinds are
known to man—namely the flying gur
nards and the flying-herrings.

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