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The Republican. [volume] (Mountain Home, Idaho) 1903-1909, January 09, 1906, Image 2

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Persistent link: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn86091061/1906-01-09/ed-1/seq-2/

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The corn husking liar Is up agains!
a crop of nearly 2,800,000,000 bushels
this year.
The latest fashion decree provides
for pockets in women's dresses. They
will never agree.
Washington is to have a woman's
hotel—with an electric hair curler, oi
course, in every room.
Every good citizen is opposed to
bosslsm, but very few of them havt
the nerve to tell wifey so.
It would seem cruel to kill a scorch
ing chauffeur without giving him a
few moments' time to repent.
Mistakes are banana peels on life's
highway. They give you a tumble,
but you must get up and toddle on.
The French cabinet falls to pieces
so often anybody would think it had
been bought on the installment plan.
A Detroit man has erected a monu
ment to Satan. Why didn't he build it
in New York, where Satan could see
Caruso, the tenor, objects to hotels,
prefering to live alone. An inherit
ance from his celebrated ancestor,
Take this one home and try It on
your guesser: How cold must it be
to be twice as cold as two degrees
above : zero?
France is to be congratulated on
abandoning the habit of having crises
every time the parliament makes a
face at the ministry.
As to some of the gimcrackeries
brought to this country from Europe
it is patently absurd that they should
pay duty as "works of art."
Motoring, it is said, eliminates indi
gestion. For the man who happens tc
get in the way it often eliminates al)
other known maladies, also.
The experience of I^abrador explor
Ing parties shows that lovers of ad
venture don't have to go up to the.
Arctic regions to lose their lives.
Every other day or so now a Rus
sian mob breaks into a vodka shop
and proceeds to give the world an
object lesson in the cause of temper
Eighteen soldiers at a Kentucky fort
deserted when ordered to another
state. There is no gainsaying that
Kentucky girls are hand some.—Roch
ester Post-Express.
While out hunting with King Alfon
so, Emperor William shot, twenty
three boars, as against the king's
twenty-nine. It wasn't a very good
day for hoars, either.
The Japanese government has de
cided to issue a new foreign loan of
$250,000,000 at 4 per cent. War is
what Gen. Sherman said it was, for
those who have to pay the cost.
One-third of the Dominican navy is
now at the Norfolk navy yard for re
pairs. It consists of the 600-ton gun
boat Presidente, which hasn't been
overhauled before for seven years.
Operas are now given as sacred
concerts in New York on Sundays
They are so old-fashioned in that town
that they consider it necessary when
they break the laws to do it undei
A play Is to be brought out In New
York with John D. Rockefeller and
Ida M. Tarbell aa two of the principal
characters. Let us hope, in the inter
ests of propriety, that there may be no
wig pulling.
New Jersey boasts of a man 72
years old who can neither read nor
write and has seen only one locomo
tive, and that at a distance of half a
mile. Only think of boasting of a
man like that!
King Alfonso killed forty-one wild
pigs while he was out hunting with
the kaiser. This doesn't mean neces
sarily that he would be willing to help
our Yankee farmers with their pig kill
ing if he should come over here.
The amount of letter writing that is
done daily in New York is illustrated
by the fact that 235,000 letters on an
average are collected there every day
between 4:30 and 7:30 p. in. And they
aren't all love letters, either.
In order to prove that the eternal
feminine toes cot change with the
processiof )f h centuries, it is only
necessary * p-- it out the fact that
every tin i t nan becomes a great
genius sL m -i s a millionaire.
Wore Hirsute Adornment to Show Hia
Among odd gravestones is one In
Leominster, Mass., which bears a por
trait carved in marble, and the fol
lowing Iscriptlon:
"Persecuted for wearing the beard."
These few words gave but a faint
dew to the unique personality who
had this unusual memorial of hlmseli
chisled on his monument.
Joseph Palmer died in Leominster,
Cct. 30, 1873, at the age of 84. He is
rot mentioned in the town directory,
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Palmer's Tombstone.
yet tradition has many interesting
stories to tell of him.
It is said that he gloried in espous
ing the unpopular side in any contro
versy and posing as a martyr.
Early In the 19th century it was
fashionable for men to go smooth
shaven, so Joseph Palmer determined
to wear a beard, not because of its
beauty, but to assert his right to be
contrary if he wanted to be. Men and
boys used to jeer at him, much to his
Once a crowd of young fellows
seized him in a hotel in Fitchburg and
started to cut off his beard. He at
tacked his persecutors with a kife and
wounded one of them. For this deed
he was summoned into court, and he
ever afterward felt himself a much
persecuted man for conscience's sake.
According to one of the older resi
dents of Leominster, Mr. Palmer was
much interested in the transcendent
al philosophy founded by Amos Bron
son Alcott, father of Louise May Al
cott, the well known writer of stories
for children. It is said that Mr. Pal
mer contributed toward the purchase
of Brook farm, and, when the com
munity came to an end, the property
passed into Mr. Palmer's possession,
Smallest Known Rose.
This is an exact life size photograph
of the smallest rose which has been
achieved by the florist's art. Its ap
propriate name is "Baby Rambler,"
and in every way it takes first place
■ ■
among the diminutive specimens ol
floriculture. It seldom grows to a
height greater than three inches, and
the blossom measures but half an Inch
in diameter. The rose is owned in
Has Letter of Trafalgar Sailor.
A Manchester, N. H., man nas a let
ter written by Hugh Folland on board
of "his majesty's ship Bellona," July
12, 1812.
12, 1812.
the Americans at the battle of Lake
changed, hut preferred to remain in
this country. He spent the rest of his
life l-i Vermont.
He was taken prisoner by
He was taken prisoner by
He was afterward ex
By A. L. Harris Author of "Min® Own Familiar Frland," etc.
C a » t t l l Publithing Company.
Copyright, 18 9 1, by
by S t r t t t
19 0 3,
CHAPTER XIV.—Continued.
All, though still legible, were more
or less injured by the fiery ordeal to
which they had been in some degree
subjected. The fire, which had stopped
before reaching the upper part of the
body, had been sufficient for this.
He ran his eye over them again.
What was that? Something which
srackled as he laid his hand upon one
of the papers nearest to him. It was
a sheet of foreign note paper, much
singed, and written only upon one
He pushed all the other papers to
gether in a heap. Then, with the
burnt letter before him, with an elbow
planted on each side, and his head
supported between his hands, he bent
himself to the task of deciphering
what still remained.
At last, after at least an hour spent
(n this way, he made a gesture of
"I suppose I must give it up. The
task is beyond me—at least, this por
tion of it."
He cast his eye again over the
"They tell me nothing as they are.
They even serve to cast some implica
tion upon my father's honor, and-"
He broke off abruptly, and the color
forsook his face. What was it the
doctor had hinted at? Something dis
creditable in the past?
He glanced at the paper again.
"But this speaks of something
He gave a hasty look round, as
though he half-feared the possibility
of the presence of a listener, as he
whispered the words—"Something
criminal! "
He took up his pen again, and once
more concentrated his whole attention
upon the burnt letter.
The paper before him contained a
number of broken phrases—the be
ginnings and fragments of sentences.
The upper part of the letter had been
ilU 'i'Wi ,
/ f
Something I can do for you?"
burned away, and the first word which
was decipherable was his father's
Below this might be read, with
some difficulty, the following inco
tierent scraps of sentences, in which,
after all, there was a good deal of
guess work:
"Have not forgotten ... of
on receiving
twenty years . .
this letter . . . at once for Dover
. There
. . . expect to reach . .
is that between us which . . . not
allow you to deny ... I ask .
, . and many . . . you alone can
. . . If you refuse I shall . . .
. . as the criminal .
that you .
. . of your youth."
Beneath this last sentence he could
make out what he took to be the
letter J, which apparently stood for
the initial letter of the Christian
name, but the rest of the signature
was burned and obliterated.
At this moment something again re
called to him the mysterious words
which he had heard the night before
the funeral, and he looked round for a
possible interpretation of them.
His eye roamed from one object to
another, and his tongue repeated the
words— "The spring at the back of
the recess!" What recess? Where?
He rose from his chair and took a
sharp turn round the room,
What was meant by the re
he said, as though ad
He drew up his
dressing some one present,
me what you mean."
chair and resumed his seat; but there
that in his behavior which sug
gested one under the control of some
mesmeric influence, or who walked in
his sleep.
Immediately in front of him, his
eye rested upon a small door,
his surprise, he now observed for the
first time that the key was in the
He turned it and saw papers
within, tied up in bundles and en
dorsed. Some were quite yellow with
age, and some were more modern.
He went to work deliberately until
he had quite cleared the space,
was not very large, but now that it
v>as empty it formed a sort of
He did not finish the word even in
his own mind, but began to pass his
fingers over the panel at the back,
slowly backwards and forwards, an
inch at a time.
At last, something seemed to catch
his nail—something which projected
ever so slightly.
He pressed it—the spring at the
back of the recess—firmly. There
was a little jarring sound, and the
back of the partition fell forward, re
vealing another compartment behind
the first.
This at first seemed to contain noth
ing but a packet of old letters, tied
round with a faded blue ribbon,
were his mother's letters, written be
fore her marriage, and treasured ever
A bundle of old love letters. Was
that all?
No, there was something else,
photograph, faded and yellow, like the
letters. A photograph of a young
man, in the dress, that now seemed
old fashioned and ridiculous, of twen
ty or thirty years ago. The features
were hardly distinguishable, but on
the back was written a name and a
date—"James Ferrers, taken June,
The New Client.
Mr. John Sharp's offices were situ
ated off the Strand. And at 11 o'clock
one morning Mr. John Sharp was
seated in his private room, expecting
a visitor, or, as Mr. Sharp would have
expressed it himself, a client. While
waiting for the latter to put in an
appearance, he whiled away the time
with the morning paper.
At the particular moment to which
we refer, his attention was engaged
by something in the top right hand
corner of the outside sheet, which
seemed to afford him a considerable
amount of satisfaction.
"It certainly does read well," he re
marked to himself complacently. "I
can't deny that, though I did draw it
up myself. "I wonder," he continued,
rasping his chin with his forefinger,
"whether the gent who's made the
appointment for 11 o'clock came from
the advertisement, or whether he was
The advertisement referred to was
as follows:
"Sharp's Detective Agency. Swift,
sure and secret. All inquiries con
ducted with the greatest skill and dis
cretion. Evidence obtained on any
subject. All communications regard
ed as strictly private and confidential.
Mr. John Sharp promises to all those
who honor him by seeking his aid the
experience of twenty years and the
secrecy of the confessional."
Mr. John Sharp, as regarded his
outward appearance, was somewhat
of the weasel order. As he himself
often said, "Sharp was his name and
sharp was his nature."
"My new client's late," he con
tinued, looking at his watch. He
opened a door of communication and
put his head through.
"When the gentleman comes, don't
forget to tell him that I'm engaged
for the moment, but shall be at lib
erty shortly; and mind you come in
when you hear me bang the door, and
ask if I am disengaged and can see
the gentleman now."
The faithful Jennings performed
his duty to the letter. "I think," said
Mr. Sharp, rising and referring to a
memorandum, as the gentleman was
ushered in, "that I have the pleasure
of addressing Mr. Burritt? Will you
be good enough to be seated."
The visitor admitted that was his
na m«, and look th« twit
"Something I can do for you?" in
quired Mr. Sharp, placing the tips of
his fingers together Interrogatively.
The new client, who had with him
small leather bag, opened it, and
produced three articles, which he
placed upon the table before him.
They consisted of a square, flat pack
photograph and a ball from a
age, a
"Suppose you begin from the begin
ning and tell me all about it. I shall
not Interrupt you," said Mr. Sharp,
he opened the note-book and mois
tened a stump of lead pencil with his
; t-
He kept his word, though he made
copious notes, and for some
there was only the monotonous sound
of the one voice, as the new client re
capitulated all
which had led to his seeking Mr.
Sharp's assistance, and which have
already been fully gone into.
When he had finished, "I thought
the name seemed familiar to me," said
"To be sure, I remember
the other,
ail the circumstances connected with
And so you think you
the sad affair,
have hit upon the guilty party?"
"1 am certain of it," was the deter
"I believe I know his
mined answer.
name, and have proof in my
mind that he committed the deed.
What I want you to do is to trace him
rather, put me on his
for me—or, _
track and let me run him down."
"Phew!" whistled Mr. Sharp, softly,
under his breath. "This is something
quite out of the common, this is. Sup
pose," he said, addressing the young
"that we examine the evidence.
This is the bullet, you say; and this
a photograph you found among the
deceased gentleman's papers.
I inquire what this is?" laying his
hand upon the other article.
"That is the letter I spoke of, which
made the appointment which my
father kept, and was thus, indirectly,
the cause of his death. It is partly
destroyed; but enough remains to
show that there was"—here he hesi
tated for the first time—"something
of the nature of a secret between
Mr. Sharp ran his eye down the
"Humph!" he remarked;
"something vague and unsatisfactory.
It certainly seems to hint at some
thing of a suspicious nature between
the two."
"Don't make any mistake," put in
Ted Burritt at this point; "whatever
there may be of that nature does not
—cannot apply to my father."
"Probably not! Probably not! But
you must allow a certain amount of
ambiguity—of cutting both ways. If
we could prove the knowledge of some
nefarious—some"—here he referred
to a sentence in the copy of the letter
—"some criminal proceedings con
cerning the writer on the part of the
—er—the unfortunate gentleman who
was shot.—something which lay be
tween those two alone. Why, then,
we should be able to see our way.
Suppose there was a strong provoca
tion. Suppose those two to be alone
in a ifrst-class carriage. Suppose
that a sudden quarrel arises between
them; that the deceased, as I have
just said, is provoked to utter threats
as to what he may or may not do.
Suppose the one threatened, who car
ries a revolver, makes up his mind to
silence him once for all by the
means of a bullet through his brain."
His client nodded.
"Now," continued Mr. Sharp, "be
fore proceeding farther, just let us
come to an understanding as to what
you want me to do?"
"I want you," was the answer, "to
trace this other from the time that he
was last seen."
"Very good," from Mr. Sharp.
"And to trace his history back
wards from that time."
"And the party's name?"
Ted handed him the photograph and
showed him what was written on the
"Very good, sir. I think we under
stand each other. And you would
wish me to begin my investiga
"At once!"
There was a little discussion here
about terms, expenses, etc., which, be
ing satisfactorily arranged, the client
rose and prepared to take his depar
"You will leave me this"—the de
tective indicated the photograph—
"and your copy of the letter?"
Ted Burritt assented and replaced
the other articles.
"I shall make a point," said Mr.
Sharp, "of going through the report
of the inquest again to refresh my
memory, and in case there should be
any little fact that may have escaped
yours. You have to prove"—checking
the items off on his fingers—"First,
that the man we want wrote that let
ter; secondly, that he was the other
passenger, and, thirdly, that he fired
that shot."
The answer was firm and concise!
"I don't require you to prove the
murder so much as to trace the man,
and, when you have done so—leave
him to me!"
(To be continued.)
Women Inventors.
The United States hail granted 3,500
patents to women.

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