OCR Interpretation


The Kootenai herald. [volume] (Kootenai, Idaho) 1891-1904, October 24, 1891, Image 2

Image and text provided by Idaho State Historical Society

Persistent link: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn86091083/1891-10-24/ed-1/seq-2/

What is OCR?


Thumbnail for

THE KOOTENAI HERALD
Issued Every Saturday By
S. D. TAYLOR, Proprietor.
Should Have Hail a .Medal.
"Fido ate the canary yesterday."
"Ate the canary I What did you do to
himf
"We gave him soma pepsin, poor thing!
You know he isn't used to such strong diet."
—Puck.
Human Nature.
a?s»
>
ill
!!
«
»JE
k 1
^
A
{
j*
She—Indeed it's not an easy thing for a
girl to get a husband.
He—Why, a pretty girl can make lier
choice of four out of every five men she
meets.
She—But it's the fifth that she wants.—
Life.
..
Its very puzzling, said a worried looking
woman to one of her neighbors.
What is tlmt?
Mistaken Security.
O
/
to,*
- 4
W/
■y
[i
iU
/
s
r
illl
m
asii
Q
m
Mrs. Hobson—Well, James, we can rest as
sured that Mary und her fellow are not doing
any silly courting down stairs; that piano has
been going ever since we came to bed.
(!
/
Is
•>yiLsw
à
*i
Vf,
mslà
vm
Si
i
iAliilil
?
—Life.
A 1 * 11 / 7 . 1 «».
"I can't tell whether Willie is corrupting
the parrot or whether the parrot is corrupt
ing Willie."—Washington Post.
A Handy Fashion.
Tailor—The fushionuble spring coat, sir, lias
but three buttons.
They will get down to three soon enough.—
New York \\ eekiy.
'Yes, you did, Bill; but it has grown a,
good deal in the last twenty years, and I'm
glad to meet it again."—Harper's Bazar.
Old Customer -Put on the usual number.
Developed.
"I never told you that story before. Jim.
The Hon. William McGinty, the prominent
Harlem contractor,
happy inau a few short weeks ago.
All on Account of McGinty.
as a prosperous and
n.
ip
I
it
i.5®
. «
v
I.
II.
But his friends got off so many bad jokes
about his unfortunate name that his ini ml
gave way and,he has become a raving maniac.
—Argosy.
Deferred«
Charlie—How is this, Gus, I thought you
were to have a new suit?
Gus— I was ttdking with my tailor, and he
says my suit will have to be put over until
the Mari'h term.—Lowell Cil /en.
To Live Oil til
«Mil Man.
"I understand young Briefless is about to
marry the daughter of old Bonds, the miil
ionaire.
"Yes, so I am told."
"Will he give up tlm law business?"
"Yes; he will give up the law business and
go into the son-in-law business."—Lowell Citi
zen.
Wliat He Iomul Fault With.
"What is your opinion of cranks?" asked
Miss Brighton of Gus De Jay.
"Candidly," said the dainty Augustus, "I
don't like ewanks much, you know."
"Why not?"
"I cahn't appwove of the way they weah
tbeiah haiah."—Washington Post.
A Lung Time Cuming.
Winks—When did you get back from Cali
fornia?
Binks—Only this noou. I came by easy
stages.
Winks—Is that so? I should think you
would have come by rail.—Lowell Citizen.
PENITENCE.
Life is too short, dear love, for unkind feeling,
! Too short for harsh reproach or bitter tone;
I We two should know but gentle words alone;
I If I have wronged you. dear, here let me, kneel*
Inc
Low at your side in penitence appealing,
Seek pardon for a fault I had not known.
Save that my love for you so strong had
grown
i It passed the bounds of reason's wise conceal
I ing.
Dear love, by all our past of untold gladness.
By every tender word and fond caress
Which filled our lives with such sweet hap
piness.
Forgive, forget that one brief hour of mad
ness.
Then may you know the highest Joy of liv
ing.
The Godlike pctece, the sweetness of forgiv
ing.
j
- Jennie Porter Arnold.
LOVE OF WHITE FAWN.
However it may be pow; whatever of de
i moralization has followed the tribe since
fate and the United States government
pushed them to the beggarly life of reser
vation rations, the time once was when the
j Sioux girl could not go astray without
j sharing the same social ostracism as that
I meted out as a punishment for her white
j sister. When the Sioux dwelt in and
I around the famous bunting grounds now
j known as Minnesota and Dakota, the same
j nicety of distinction prevailed among them
as in any refined white community as be
tween the moral and the immoral woman
Indeed, it has been hinted that these In
dians went a step farther than the whites
in their respect for virtue in their women;
that one of their braves, emulating Roman
heroism, killed his wife, and that one of
their chiefs slew his, daughter for the un
forgivable offense.
Nobody knew this better than Charles
Dorr, a young Michigan man, who went to
Minnesota in the early (50's and found
employment as a clerk in one of the shops
of the advance settlements.
Dorr was fond of hunting and fishing,
and his good naturedand shrewd employer
I allowed him ample time for the lient of his
j inclination, when, on the occasion of the
I young man's first sally for game and fish,
I he returned full handed and with sufficient
i to support tiie family for a fottnight.
On one of these single liauded expedi
tious from tiie settlement dowu the Bed
river of the nort h, late in the fail, Dorr's
birch bark canoe was upset hy sliding up
upon a concealed rock midway the com
paratively narrow stream, and Dorr took a
header into the cold water.
Knowing the stream so well, his quick
eye would have avoided the accident under
ordinary circumstances, but his eyes were
elsewhere at the time, and intent upon the
graceful form of an Indian girl who stood
upon the wooded hank of the river, for the
Bed river banks are prairie on one side and
wooded on tiie other.
Dorr heard a ringing laugh as lie made t he
plunge; hut he swum like a cork and soon
arose, shaking the water from his head
like a retriever. He struck out for the
shore, but he scarcely struck a half dozen
strokes before the girl wit h one of the on
noes, which were drawn up on shore, was
by his side, so agile were lier movements.
Turning it deftly as she reached him Dorr,
with one liaud lightly placed ou the side uf
the eauoe and swimming alongside, was
paddled ashore. Returning rapidly she
recovered the canoe and the paddje, but
Dorr's rifle and a set of traps were at tiie
bottom of the river.
Now the ordinary Indian maiden would
have left Dorr to sink or swim, and gel his
| otvn canoe as liest he might, and would
have stood laughing at the exhibition
from the foyer of the shore until the ciir
! tain of Dorr went down, no matter that
the ruin swollen river swept the
helplessly along. It would have been he
! cause they knew a brave would lose caste
i by lieing helped by women iuanythiug lint
a liait le where the foes were two to one,
but it was no ordinary Indian girl who had
helped Dorr out of his difficult if not dan
swimmer
; genius predicament.
j She was White Fawn, daughter of Gray
i Otter, eiiief of the principal band of ihe
Minnesota Sioux, the impulse
if whose
| kindly heart modified the strict observances
of tribal forms and rules. Besides, her
woman's instincts told her that she herself
was uot a link' in fault for the accident, as
she had observed Dorr's steady gaze, which
had pleased and had not abashed t he Da
kota beauty, who, like all of her sex, had
just the faintest trace of the < oquette in
her composition.
The accident had occurred opposite the
encampment of White Otter's hand, which
was hut a few rods hack in the limber.
Thither she invited him, and played t he
kind hostess in the chief's tepee in the ab
sence of lier father,' ami Dorr, liefore a roil
ing fire, tiried himself hunter and warrior
fashion, and stilled his chattering teeth
j with a swallow of whisky from a curiously
carved cup «if elk horn.
Not a word had passed between them up
i to the moment when Dorr arose to go, and
! theu he essayed to l hank the lady in his
best hut briefest Sioux.
j Now lie it known the Indian possesses
keeu a sense of the ludicrous conveyed by
i broken language as that entertained hy the
whites, ami this was the secret that locked
the tongues of the t wain up to that mo
ment. But locking t heir tongues for this
reqson unlocked anot her secret, and that
was the secret «if their admiration for one
j another. Dorr was smitten, and the White
! Fawn furnished another of t he hundred
keys to a woman's heart..
She responded
| iu English a iiuiid "tank you," and looked
into Dorr's eyes fur any ridicule that might
he there. She only saw glowing admira
I tion in those eyes, and she dropped her own.
Dorr went, hack to tiie settlement only to
return the uext day witli an improvised
grapliug hook, with which to recover his
gnu and traps. He never found them, but
failure only seemed to lend impetus to his
industry. In fact lie never looked for them
after the first day's search, but he found
I their loss a convenient excuse for several
days of absence and a return to the shop
without his usual quantity of game.
While ostensibly occupied iu the search
he continued to communicate with White
Fawn, and to establish a secret meeting
place, instead of openly entering the camp
like a bold warrior. He lived in a mild de
lirium of satisfaction, only disturbed by
any long interval that separated him from
the Indian girl
• •<••••
Later in the lull Gray Otter's bund took
up their long j»urney to the westward in
one of their grtat hunting expeditions and
did not return till the spring. News came
down to the settlement of their return, and
with it also tie news that the hunt had
been a comparative failure. Tire whites
were driving of the game. This, together
with the fact tint the government was uni
keeping its pleftge with tire Indians, mad.
the prospect anything but pleasant for t.li.
settlement. is the spring waned
ominous newsrrrived that the more
erly bauds had begun the war dance, an
then that actual hostilities had hem
wes
But the rumors were r.guo, und there was
not the slightest movement to indicate a
disposition to g on the Wurp;.; h by Gray
Otter's buml. Ml was quiet.
As may be wri 1 supposed, Dorr was uot
long in re-estatiishing his secret meetings
with White l'twn, safe from the eye of
any prowling «vage, the trysting place
lieing chosen lit the combined cunning of
those membersof the white and the red
race.
On the occasim of one of these meetings
and in the eaily summer, White Fawn
startled him with the information that the
Indians would go upon the warpath, and
®ii his return be quietly gave this informa
tion to the peotle of the village,
eral weeks elapted, and the people allowed
themselves to ignore
which they h(u begun so actively. Mean
time Dorr's v/utnation drew him back
upon lii.s freqjjmt visits, though he knew
the agitation fmong the whites had put
the Indians upon the alert, and that scout
ing parties wen out. Indeed, his last visit
was upon the night when Gray Otter's
band held tfcer remarkable war dance,
after which befuu those scenes of horror
and devastate» in the outlying settle
ments with kpeh all who are familiar
with the coqiiiry's history will well
member, but 'with which it is not the in
tention in thjskrief sketch to deal with,
save thus to «pmi ion.
Dorr on the right in question had left
his canoe half a mile above, screened by
overhanging btshés, and with true hunt
er's instinct enMred the woods deep enough
to screen himself from any canoe prowler
on the river, hut near enough to catch the
shimmer of the starlit stream to
his guide to tie well known spot. Cau
tiously advancing, now creeping where the
trees were thinlj set, now stepping quickly
from tree to treeand now pausing to catch
the least sound. All was still as death.
But at a point limr to his haven of love,
and while creeping cautiously over a star
lit space, his ears were saluted with the
frightful yells of the war dance, appalling
to ears far more accustomed to the ijemon
ism than those ol Dorr.
Coining in the midst of a profound si
lence, startled and terrified. Dorr arose and
uttered an involuntary exclamation. In
stantly realizing Ins error, lie dropped lo
the ground again and attempted to
the dark shade of the undergrowth, it
was too late,
glided forward, threw themselves upon
him, and in a moment lie was a pinioned
prisoner. There was but little struggle,
but so «jlost^Lu Ihf trysting place did the
scene occur that the cry reached White
Fawn's quick ears, and knowing from the
sounds of the struggle that lier lover was
captured she vanished to the camp.
The war dance was interrupted by the
entrance of the prisoner and his captors,
and Dorr was led into the circle of the fire
liefore the chief. Gray Otter looked up
quietly at Dorr and then glanced inquir
ingly at one of hiscaptors. The latter with
some natural savage exaggeration related
the facts of Dorr's capture. The other
scout corroborated t he statement.
It was evident that here was a spy caught
in the act of crawling in upon the camp
with no explanation to make, for Dorr had
hung his head when the chief, with the jus
tice that always characterized his dealings
with tiie whiles, asked t lie question, "What
were you doing there?" Grunts of satis
faction went the rapid round of the paint
ed warriors as they reveled in imagination
over t he prospect of a foo roasted by a slow
tire and tortured with savage ingenuity
before l hey took the conquering war path.
It was an omen sent by the Manitou. But
tiie end was not yet. White Fawn listened
fn tiie shadow uiialde to control her terror
until the chief's question was asked, and
seeing Dorr's head bowed to his own death
sentence, leaped into t he circle of light and
confronted her father. Love had tri
umphed.
With an unmoved face Gray Otter heard
his question to Dorr answered by his
daughter, who looked unflinchingly into
his face. In i he Sioux tongue she said, "I
asked him to conic." It was love's
fice, for White l''awn had pleaded guilty.
The old chief glanced keenly into the faces
of his warriors us his hand sought tiie
buckhorn handle of the heavy knife at his
side, hut tiie laces showed no traces of a
sneer, only au expression of wonderment.
Then his eyes -ought his daughter's face
and settled on it with a deathly look, lie
rose with his hand still on the buckhorn
handle and t
did not stir.
But aev
the precautions
re
serve as
reach
Two stalwart Sioux scouts
BrttTl
ooklt step toward lier, anil she.
Blit before the chief could
take another step Dorr sprang before the
chief with pinioned arms and yelled: "The
girl lies.
1 came here as a spy."
Gray Otter paused, irresolute, as witli a
purpose 11 ii fu 1 tille« 1, and' his face chafiged
as he said siowlv-after the pause, "Unbind
him and sc e liimjsafe to the settlement."
Quick as t im cords were cut. Dorr was
quicker in his leap to tiie si«ie qf White
Fawn.
Seizingier liaud lie turned to tiie
chief and wondering warriors and said:
"This is my wife. I will stay with her
people."
It was a simple ceremony, but valid in
the trilie, and Gray Otter extended his
hand.—J. W. \V, in Detroit News.
There'» Many a Slip.
Soupin (eagerly)—Hello, Iuswim, what
number drew the prize at that church fair
lottery fundaugo lust night?
Inswim (laconically)—Number 90 won.
(Delightedly)—"You don't suy that 91 got
Well, well! Thai's my number. A fool
for luck. I never won a thing before in my
life, but I sort of felt it in my bones this
time."
"But you didn't win anything."
"No? I thought you said that 91 got it?"
"No, I said that 90 won."
"Oh I"—Time.
it.
MR. WOOD'S INVESTMENTS.
What He Found on South Water Street
and Other Matters.
"Lovey," pertinently remarked Mr. Ken
Wood at dinner last evening.
"Dovey," responded Mrs Ken Wood, with
"Sweet," continued Mr. Ken Wood, 'T was
on South Water street today."
"Darling," queried Mrs. Ken Wood, "what
for?"
emotion.
lo iay in some suppUes, little pet."
* rl ?' ilt ' ; you're just the nicest
G l m" S ' a 'f S ° '° ,Ty 1 acted
the way 1 did. Please forgive me and tell me
all about South Water street."
" Well, here goes, then." ami Mr. Ken
Wood pushed his chair buck from the table
"Just come over and sit
and lit a cigarette,
by me. That's right, pet. Well, I got the
price of vegetables and fruit first."
"And what did you buy, Ken?"
"I got some potatoes, some apples, and or
anges and onions"
"Oh, you don't love me, Ken. I knew how
it would he,
don't care."
We're married now, and you
"Darling, I'il never eat an onion. I'll coun
termaud the order."
"Would you do that for me?"
"I won't have them in the house.
"You dear, sweet boy. Let me kiss you.
You shall have all the
Whut else did you get ?"
"I got some creamery butter and some
eggs."
"O. that's lovely."
"And some codfish."
"What for?"
"
onions ycu want.
"O, it's nice in the morning; and then the
fish balls are nice."
■""Ken, you know I don't like codfish."
"V\ ell, you can have something else. I'm
fond of it."
"And I'm of no account.
for me. You just want to break mv heart
i f c 1 J , ..i. y neai
it you feel that way you'd better go down
J J b
Fomi of it.
Lady (to tramp who promised to saw some
wood) Look here! H hy aren't you work
ing? \ on said y. U i were tond of work.
tramp (arousing from ids reverie)-Fond
of It, mum W hy, bless yer, I loves it so
much that I can t bear ter use it all un so
that the next feller that comes along «mV
get any ter do. I'm no hog, mum!-Luw
rence American.
You don't care
town."
"I will, Mrs. Wood,
til you come to your senses."
"That's right, go! Here's your hat.
"Mamie."
"Let's"
I'll go to the club un
"Let's go to the theatre, pet.
"O, yes. Ken, let's, you great big, darling
bear."—Chicago Tribune.
Tie
Striking Hits.
I
h
tel
•*>
in
5rr
Deacon Smooth—Bv jove! that's a great
hit, th«>' not liait' forcible enough. If there
is anything in this world I admire, it is
force.
V
&
sr
m
N' y
1

9
I
f
"Why do you encourage attentions from
"Well, dear, you know I like Tom best, but
he is not very well oft, ami can t afford a
coupe when we go out together. I call him
■S'*
— ! * ? wow!
b-w
-!!! '<!! —Judge.
Her Weather Kjr.
both Tom and Harry?"
"Then what «io you call Harry?"
"Why! my rainbow."—Racket.
Debts; in Harness.
He had been in the gas office tor most of
Ids life ami the end was at hand.
"Are you resigned?" kindly inquired the
minister.
"Never," cried the old man, fiercely. "I
may «lie, but I will never resign."
And he passed away as he had lived.—
Philadelphia Times.
I.ov«* ii
('liicago.
Mr. Porkham—Again 1 ask you, Miss Leaf
lard, will you be my wife? .
Miss Leaflard—No, Mr. Porkham, I cannot
be your wife; but I will be
Mr. Porkham—Sister, of cours».
Mis Ijeafiard—No; a grandmother,
grandfather proposed last night.
Your
Epoch.
It Would lie a Pleasint; Sound.
The young musical enthusiast, after a fear
ful four handed sonata on the piano, addresses
his uncle: "Uncle, would you like to hear
something tliut sounds even better than that?"
Uncle—Yes
hard.— Fliegende liluetter.
suppose you let the lid down
... p L 'lhnowu I «dut.
Mos Rosebud—Oh, well, you must not
ola.ue her: she is one o the period
Bi onson—I enod? She a girl of the t ,eri<id?
She does,, t know what a period is. Why, she
never stops talking except with au exclama
tion point.—Harper's Bazar.
A Curious Fact.
"There is one thing I don't understand
about a crab."
"? ?"
"Why, whenever a crab wants to see any
thing he puts ids eye out."—Harper's Bazar.
The Matter with Them.
"Some gymnasts are too fresh," remarked
Arnold as he hoiked at an exhibition of
tumbling.
"Yes," added Constable, "and somersault."
-Puck.
THE ARBEITER KOLONIE.
Germany's Attempted Solut ion of the Prob
le in of Dealing with the Unemployed.
For several years a movement has been
i
. . . .....
| *"*"*"« 1,1 U ' rman - V to 8olve l<>^ally
the problem of dealing with the
| ployed, independently of alms giving and
unem
charities. Though littlfj has been re
ported of the societies having the work
in charge, there have been very satisfac
tory results attained in the past three
T „ ar8 , un<1 the success of the Arbeiter
k(llonie . of Berlin. the most impu tant
i , , - , . , !
colony, has been of a character to recom
"»Pnd'he plan to all Jarge cities of Europe
01u ° 1 united Stales as well. How
to (, . <al with "ten out of work without
making them a charge upon the county
is a question for most serious considera
tion ; yet it has never been squarely met
nor studiously investigated. Any one
who will take the trouble and look into
the labor and aid statistics of a large rity.
even in bounteous America, will be aston
ished at the large percentage of persons
capable of doing work who are, never
theless. objects of common charity, or
are on the dependent rollsof the country
The condition is proportionately worse
in many European countries, but Ger
many is the only country in which has
been undertaken a practical plan of deal
ing with the idle classes that are willing
to work but are unable to find employ
ment.
* \
The colonies referred to, of which that
of Berlin is the fittest example, were or
ganized "to employ industrious and un
employed men of all professions and
classes, so far as they are really capable
of work, in agrarian and other labor
until it is possible to procure them re
_ .. , , ,
munorntive work elsewhere and to help
L, , .. ,, ,. ... *
them to quit, the life ot itinerants, and
also to remove the excuse of lazy vaga
bonds that they have no work," The
Berlin colonv was founded in 18815. It
has a plot of land several acres in ex
tent, on which fruits, flowers and veg»
tables are cultivated, and several shops,
eating apartments,
where varions trades and general work
may be engaged in. An investment of
more than 80,000 marks is represented.
Besides the garden and fruit culture the
occupations are straw plaiting, earpen
tering, shoemaking and copying, and all
kinds and conditions of workmen are
represented, including tradesmen, clerks
' i a
"»I»«*«*™' engmeers.
te:,cher8 ' *™nts. etc. There are three
besides lodging and
systems of employing colonists—work on
the premises on behalf of the institution,
work on the premises for outside parties,
who furnish their own tools and raw ma
terial, and work on the outside under
special agreement.
The cost of keep is six shillings half
penny a day, but all earned in excess of
this goes to the credit of the workman
who receives his surplus earnings on
quitting the institution. Some, of course,
do not earn their keep, and the colony is
not reimburse«! for excess of exjM'irlirun*
on tlieir in-half. The proportion of i ! -—sa
Is not large. The two objects of t! ■*
colony, to do away with begging ant
indiscriminate alms giving, and to give
the honest unemployed a chance to work
til! better employment can tie secured for à
them, are doubly encouraged by the "
public. That is to say. the householder
gives to the beggar at his door a ticket
entitling him to admission to the colony,
where work may be had. and general
employers give preference to the applica
tions of th ■ colony. So well has the plan
worked that,
newness in the
despite its comparative
reformatory field, the
Berlin colony lias received Ô9.» colonists,
all of whom were relieved from pressing
w»nt and most of whom were helped to
Bellied employment at their own trades,
Small as these figures are in them
selves, the/ are large when taken into
account with the fact that there is less
mendicancy in Berlin than in unv other
great city of the world. Indeed, Ger
many is exceptionally free from beggars,
Moreover, the colonies are onlv for those
wlm can and will work, but are unable
to find employment. We hardly nee«l
moralize on the good results possible to
be accomplished by an institution that
steps in between unemployed workmen
an«i beggary or starvation, or the crimes
of desperation. Nor need it be urged
that there are few better ways for th
utility of practical philanthropy, Tire
moral influences of such a movement are
incalculable, and the material good to 1»
accomplished not inconsiderable. An in
stitution of the kind
could quickly bo
made self supporting; or if it were not
the indiscriminate charities now so lib
erally dispensed could lie turned wisely
to its maintenance.—Chicago Inter
Ocean.
The Arbiter of His Own Fate.
Tennyson N. Twiggs—Would it make any
difference if I should read this poem to you
or leave it here for you to read?
The Editor—Yes; I think it would. If you
leave it, you'll go out of the door; but if you
read it you may' go out of tiie window.—Lip
pineott's.
Smith at the Bar.
Judge—What's the charge, officer?
Officer-He w a * examining doors,
Judge-Whut is your business. Smith?
Smith—I am a locksmith
Judge-Jailer, loek-Smith up. Whereupon
Smith made a bolt.-New York Herald
Danger Ahead.
Youth (in deep, passionate, tender tonesl—
How can I tear myself away ?
Young Lady's Pa (wrathfully)—The tear
ing won't be done away,
right here. Wait tili I loose the dog.—Bos
ton Courier.
It will be done
Ii
the Simp,
" 1 hank heaven ! that new insect powder
worked. The cockroaches about the house
have come to grief at last," said the landlady. I
"\<«s," assented old Stubbing, "they're in ^
the soup."—Merchant Traveler.

xml | txt