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THE OAKLEY EAGLE !
By4.M MHRRItL IDAHO OAKLBT When Suspicion goes a hunting it will always bud Insincerity lurking in : the bushes There Is one form of swearing off j that is never broken, and that's swearing off taxes. If France has any idea th*t war Is a picnic It should consult it« ally. Russia, on the subject. Dr Emil Reich says "the American woman is not a woman." Right you are, doc. She's an angel. There are three things which no woman can hope to understand—base ball, time tables and husbands. Once more the doughty Fitz is find ing married life a sweet song and time will tell how long it will be. The world's output of gold last year was $375,000, though we do not say so of our own personal knowledge. However, we can testify that a man doesn't bave to be a czar in order to have Mb bills larger than his in come. The papers are printing a story about a man in Massachusetts who has lived for forty years on nuts. Doughnuts? As if it wasn't hard enough to reach the north pole by the ordinary route this man Wellman proposes to go there in an airship. Yes, Rollo; you are right in sup posing that "martial law" and "mar ital law" are not the same thing They are spelled differently. Gertrude Atherton says there is no place In this country quiet enough for her to write in. Gertie writes very noisy stuff, you know. It develops that Pittsburg's heiress servant girl Is no heiress. Perhaps she just tried to figure out relation ship to Jacob Sehiff's cook. Belgium and Holland can hardly be blamed for feeling a little nervous, considering how their big neighbors on both sides are carrying on. Now Dr. Wiley announces thnt dan ger lnrks in the average barber shop. Well, some of us have had mighty close slaves there, that's a fact. The girls are getting pretty stren uous when twelve Chicago men have to form an organization and take an oftth to keep from getting married. Persia is threatened with a rebel lion. Perhaps the hoy got the cards mixed on the Christmas presents which the shah bought for the harem. The value of New York's real es tate has increased $40,000,000 in the past year. That is what comes of be ing an island entirely surrounded with water. Sir Thomas Upton feels sure he can win the America's cup this time. Sir Thomas should take something for that sure feeling or it will break him yet. the London astrologer, gives these instructions for to-day: "Keep quiet. Do not quarrel." Even an astrologer says sensible things sometimes. Zadkiel, A man is dead who had read 8,000 novels and for month after month "all the leading magazines." Thefe is no dispute but that he died from natural causes. A New York lawyer has explained his challenge of a juror on the ground that he doesn't like newspaper men on juries. Well, newspaper men gen erally are Intelligent. A patent medicine firm prints a pic ture of a man sawing wood as "Grand pa's Cure." Nonsense, grandpa never sawed the wood. He made his be loved grandson saw it. From Tacoma, Wash., comes the story of a rat two feet in length. Of course, a community that can sustain a rodent of that size is an excellent place for the growth of anything. Intercollegiate football reform Is getting somewhat involved and com plicated. It might be weH to Issue a blue book on the subject to show the wayfarer about how far It has progressed. It seems that there are 676 em ployes in the departments at Wash lngton who have reached the age of 70, but experience has shown that some men are younger at 70 than others are at 32. If you waut to go to Athens this year, it is suggested that you try for a place on the American team at the Olympic games. Somebody will go on It; why not you, you narrow-chest ed, spindle-shanked, string-arm? Why not? Sir Thomas Lipton has given an other cup for an ocean yacht race. The eminent tea merchant has found that It is more blessed—and easier— to give than to receive. Still he's a good old sport, and we wish him ali kinds of luck in his cups. 1 a 5« I « J S® I X J j P I L THE GIRL AT THE HALFWAY HOUSE ■A \ I s. Tory or the plains BY K . ii Ol G 11 , A t TIH'K 01- T 11 K S TORY OF THE COWBOY York Copyrighted, I 9 O y . b y D. Affleton àr* Co . Se tan CHAPTER XIII—Continued. The hours grew older. At the head of the hull the musicians manifested I more signs of their Inexorable purpose. A sad protesting squeal came from the acooidlon. were held firm. The violins moaned, but The worst might be precipitated at at.y moment. Dut again there was a transfer of the general attention toward the upper tnd of the hall. The door once more opened, and there appeared a little group of three persons, on whom there was fixed a regard so steadfast and so silent that it might well have been seen that they were strangers to ail present. Of the three, one was a tall and slender man, who carried him self with that ease which, itself uncon scious, causes self-consciousness In those still some generations hack of it. Upon the arm of this gentleman was a lady, also tall, thin, pale, with wide, dark eyes, which now opened with surprise that was more than half shock, lastly, with head up and eyes also wide, like those of a stag which sees some new thing, there came a young woman, whose presence was such as had never yet been seen In the hotel at Ellisville. Astonished, as they might have been by the spectacle before them, greeted by no welcoming hand, ushered to no convenient seat, these three faced the long, half-lit room In the full sense of what might have been called an awk ward situation. shuffle or cough, or talk »ne with an other. or smile in anguish, as had others who thus faced the same ordeal. The three walked slowly, calmly, de liberately down into what must have been one of the most singular scenes hitherto witnessed In their lives. As they reached the head of the social rank, where sat Mrs. McDermott, the wife of the section boss and arbiter elegantiarum for all Ellisville, the gen tleman bowed and spoke some few words, though obviously to a total stranger—a very stiff and suspicious Yet they did not tel of of i^TT Vis.* W/ "S l I mW if! Ld I It V .„väs., i i Mi' 1 ' ' lift f-.V !' B \\ \ »PI! ; y fl tit* / ! j li V . J / m /// 7 / ■%' / « O / ' . "Ned, me boy, Colonel stranger, who was too startled to reply. The ladles bowed to the wife of the section boss and to the others as they came In turn. Then the three pew» ! on a few seats apart from and the other occupants of that None had chosen Batter was At the been tones easily distinguishable at ail »arts b W side* of the house. There was now much tension, and •46 unhappiness and suspense could • e endured but little longer. Again 4 accordion protested and the fiddle The cornet uttered a faint note wept, of woe. « use in this time of joy. Again the door was pushed open, not t*-nidly. but flung boldly back. There stood two figures at the head of the hall and in the place of greatest light. Of these, one was tail and very thin, but upright as a shaft of pine, was clad in dark garments: thus much might be said. His waistcoat sat high and close, showed a touch of white, and a bit of white appeared protruding at bosom of his coat. His tread was aupvte and easy as that of a boy of twe» ,y. to his companion as they entered, "I'm feelin' fine the night; and as for yer self, ye're fit for the court o' St. James at a diplomats' ball." Yet once more there was a He At wrist and neck there the "Ned, me boy," he whispered Franklin, indeed, deserved somewhat of the compliment. Dressed in the full uniform of a captain, he looked the picture of the young army officer of the United States, much as had the little group that im mediately preceded himself and friend, Franklin passed on up into the hall, between the batteries which lined the walls. Simply, easily. Any emergency brings forward its own remedy. The times produce the man, each war bringing forth its own generals, its heroes, its solvers of great problems. sleigh to the leadership. There had been no election for master of cere monies, nor had Battersleigh yet had time to fully realize how desperate was this strait in which these folk had fallen. It appeared to him merely that, himself having arrived, there naught else to cause delay, center of the room he stopped, near bj the head of the stern column <»f womanhood which held the position on the right as one entered the hall. Here Battersleigh paused, making a deep and sweeping bow, and uttered the first open speech which had heard that evening. "Ladies and gintlemen," he said in ii of the room. "I'm pleased to meet ye all this evenin'. Perhaps ye all know BatteMlelgh, and I ho|>e ye'l! all meet me friend Captain Franklin, at me side. We claim the introduction of this roof, me gcxxi friends, and we wel come everybody to the first dance at Ladies, yer very dutiful It's well ye're lookin', Mrs. gyurl, sure Kittle, dari ln', how do ye do? Do ye remember Captain Franklin, nil of ye? # Pipe up, ye naygurs—that's right. Now. thin, all hands, choose yer partners fer the gr-rand march, sure, with Jerry's permission. Thank ye, Mrs. McDermott, and me arm—so.'' The sheepish figures of the musi cians now leaned together for a mo ment. The violins wailed in sad search for the accord, the assistant in strument less tentative. All at once ttie slack shoulders straightened up firmly, confidently, and then, their feet beating In unison upon the floor, their faces set, stern and relentless, the three musicians fell to the work and reeled off the opening bars. A sigh went up from the assembly. There was a general shuffling of shoes, a wide rustling of calico. Then, slow ly, as though going to his doom. Curly arose from out the long line of the un happy upon his side of the room. He crossed the intervening space, his limbs below the knees curiodsly af fected, jerking his feet into half time with the tune. He bowed so low be fore the littlest waiter girl that his neck scarf fell forward from his chest and hung before him like a shield. "May I hev the honor, Miss Kitty?" he choked out; and as the littlest waiter girl rose and took his arm with a vast air of unconcern. Curly drew, a long breath. Ellisville. servant! McDermott; and Nora, ye're charmin' the night. not rise, front, ! led her forth, and who. after the oc 1 casion was over, wished he had not In Ms seat Sam writhed, but could Nora looked straight in It was Hank Peterson, who upon the row. Seeing this awful thing happen, seeing the hand of Nora laid upon another's arm. Sam sat up as one deeply smitten with a hurt. Then, silently, unobserved in the confusion, he stole away from the fateful scene and betook himself to his stable, where he fell violently to currying one of the horses. "Oh. kick!" he exclaimed, getting speech in these surroundings. "Kick! I deserve It. Of all the low-down, d-n cowards that ever was horned 1 sure am the worst! But the gall of that feller Peterson! An' him a mar ried man!" When Sam left the ballroom there remained no person who was able to claim acquaintance with the little group who now sat under the shadow of the swinging lamp at the lower end of the hall, and farthest from the door. The "grand march" was over, and Batter sleigh was again walking along the line- in company with his friend Frankhn. before either could have been raid to have noticed fully these strangers, whom no one seemed to know, and who sat quite apart and un engaged. Battersleigh. master of cer emonies by natural right, and com fortable gentleman at heart, spied out :hese three, and needed but a glance to satisfy himself of their identity. "Sir," said Battersleigh, approach ing and bowing as he addressed the stranger, "I shall make bold to intro juee :nese!f—Battersleigh of Ellisville, sir, at your service. If I am not mis taken. you will be from below, toward the next town. I bid ye a very good welcome, and we shall all hope to see ye often, sir. We're none too many here yet. and a gintleman and his family are always welcome among gin tlemen. Allow me, sir, to presint me friend Captain Franklin, Captain Ned Franklin of the —th, Illinois in the late unplisantness—Ned, me boy. Colo nel—ye'll pardon me not knowin' the name?" "My name is Buford, sir," said the other as he rose. "I am very glad to see you gentlemen. Colonel Batter sleigh, Captain Franklin. I was so un lucky as to be of the Kentucky troops, sir, in the same unpleasantness. I want to introduce my wife, gentlemen, j and my niece, Miss Beauchamp." Franklin really lost a part of what ; the speaker was saying. He was gaz ing at this form half hidden in the shadow, a figure with hands drooping, with face upturned and Just caught a i» ! y b> ou* veernnt ray of H#hl | «- b ich left the massed shades piled j strongly atxjut the heavy hair. There came upon him at that moment, aa with a flood-tide of memory, all the j vague longing the restlessness, the j incertitude of life which had harried him before he had come to this far land, whose swift activity had helped him to forget. Yet even here he had been unsettled, unhappy. missed, he had lacked—he knew not what. The young woman rose, and stood out a pace or two from the shadows. She turned her face toward Franklin. He felt her gaze take in the uniform of blue, felt the stroke of mental dis like for the uniform—a dislike which he knew existed, but which he could With a strange, half He had not fathom, shivering gesture the girl advanced half a step and laid her head almosr upon the shoulder of the elder woman, standing thus for one moment, th» arms of the two unconsciously twined, as is sometimes the way with Franklin approached rude en women. ness as he looked at this attitude of the two, still puzzling, still seeking to solve this troubling problem of the past. There came a shift In the music. The air swept from the merry tuns into the minor from which the negro is never musically free. Then in a flash FrAk lin saw it all. He saw the picture. His heart stopped! This music, It was the wall of trumpets! These steps, ordered, measured, were those of marching men. These sounds, high, comming ling, they were the voices of a day gone swiftly by. These two, this one—this picture—It was not here, but upon the field of wheat and flowers that he saw it now again—that picture of grief so infinitely sad. Franklin saw, and as he gazed, eager, half advancing, Indecision and Irresolution dropped from him forever. Resolved from out the shadows, where in It had never In his most intimate self-searching taken any actual form, he saw the image of that unformulated dream which had haunted his sub consciousness so long, and which was now to haunt him openly and forever. * The morning after the first official ball in Ellisville dawned upon another world. Ellisville, after the first ball, was by all the rules of the Plains admittedly a town. A sun had set, and a sun had arisen. It was another day. To Edward Franklin the tawdry ho tel parlor on the morning after the ball was no mere four-square habita tion. but a chamber of the stars. Be fore him, radiant, was that which he had vaguely sought. This other half of himself, with feet running far to find the missing friend, had sought him out through all the years, through all the miles, through all the spheres! This was fate, and at this thought his heart glowed, his eyes shone, his very stature seemed to increase. He wist not of Nature and her ways of attrac tion. He only knew that here was that Other whose hand, pathetically sought, he had hitherto missed In the darkness of the foregone days. Now, thought he, it was all happily con cluded, here in this brilliant chamber of delight, this irradiant abode, this noble hall bedecked with gems and silks and stars and all the warp and woof of his many, many days of dreams! Mr. and Mrs. Buford had for th« time excused themselves by reason of Mrs. Buford's weariness, and after the easy ways of that time and place the young people found themselves alone. Thus It was that Mary Ellen, with a temporary feeling of helplessness, found herself face to face with the very man whom she at that time cared least to see. j ; (To be continued.) Tricks of the Types. A friend met Whttelaw Reid, the veteran editor of the New York Trib une, the other day and aald to him: "I see you are on the advisory board of Mr. Pulitzer's new college of jour nalism at Columbia university. Do you expect to put an end to the typo graphical error?" "The most we can hope to do," re plied Mr. Reid, "is to mitigate its hor hors. You can't abolish the typo graphical error any more than you can original sin. I remember when the prince of Wales visited this coun try of writing an editorial on the subject. I was young and ambitious, and thought I said some clever things. It began: The prince of Wales is making captivating speeches.' The next morning 1 picked up the paper to enjoy reading it in print. I turned to the editorial page, and this met my gaze: 'The price of Nails is making carpenters Post. swear.' "— Philadelphia Couldn't Forget His Pet Theme. Down in Virginia, says Thomas Nd son Page, there was an old darky preacher who had preached about in fant baptism morning and night until his congregation couldn't stand it any longer. They told him to preach something else or they'd have to find some one who would. He promised, and the next Sunday announced hU text. "Adam, where art thou?" "Dis. brederu, can be divided into fouh heads.' began the dominie. "First, every man is somewhar. Sec ondly, uiut-' men am where they ain't got nr bus'ness to be. Thirdly, you'd beUgr look out or you'll be gttlln' the»« you'self. Fo'thly, infant bap Ihm. Now, brederts, I guess we might's well pass by the fust three heads and come lmmed't'ly to the fo'th, infant baptism." J®. Commercial Museums. The Russian government will e« tablish permanent commercial muse ums In Pari* no / Mushrooms in the Cellar. The winter is a good time for the farmer with an experimental turn of mind to try growing some mushrooms. He doubtless has his furnace going and the temperature of his cellar will vary from 50 to 10 degrees. This tem perature is well suited to the growing of mushrooms. S5pawn will cost about 25c per pound, but a single pound trill go a long way. The MtVlll DM® for foundation is horse manure, should be thrown into a heap, first rak ing out the loose straw. Make a pile of this In the stable In some cornet and tramp it firm. After ten days this mass will be found to be heating; when it should be forked over au again packed tight. In a few dajfi this mass will again be heating, b® need not be disturbed unless th* heating reaches the point of "fire-fan# Ing." 1 At this time this can be put int< boxes in the cellar, putting about 1( inches in each box. watched for a few days, and if it bt found that the temperature is drop ping the spawn may be put into it. Th< spawn should be broken up into piece! perhaps an inch through and inserter for an inch or two under the surface No water should be applied at this time, but the bed should be packed firmly. At the end of a week the bed may be opened a little to see if the spawn is spreading, dicated by white threads running all through the mass. These threads are the body of the mushroon plant and each thread is known as a mycelium Masses of these combine to form one plant, and when they have permeated the soil thoroughly, they draw nour ishmen* from all parts to develop fruit This fruit Is pushed out towards th< ' surface and is the part that we cal the mushroom. It in turn produce ; seeds which are known as spores, am in the case of Agaricus campestruä r which is the ordinary mushroom d commerce, these spores are pink l | color, and for that reason people sa , that these mushrooms have pink gilll ' The most delicious mushrooms ar! those that are gathered when they aH in the button stage, which is the must room before the cap is expanded. Thlj Is not, however, the most economic^ time at which to gather the mush It is better to wait until thej have attained the diameter of two oi three inches, at which time the ca] will be fully expanded and the sten well developed. The stem of thL variety Is more valuable than thf stems of most varieties, and It is al most solid. Many varieties of mush rooms have hollow stems. The mush room should he more widely cultivate! for home use than It has been. To certain extent It takes the place o j meat, as in Its habits it leans mow towards the animal kingdom than th« j vegetable kingdom. Most vegetable throw off oxygen and take In carbon The mushroom throws off carbon, do the animals, and takes In oxygen It Is very rich In nitrogen and In man; localities of Europe takes the place o meat. This, It should bl This will be in rooms. To Orchard a Hilltop. A reader of the Farmers' Reviev asks if it will he safe for him to plan an orchard on a grassy hillside, is difficult to give reliable advice ot a question of this kind without belni "on the ground." so much depends o location, condition of land, object 1 planting and, above all, the man b hind the venture. If the land has bee growing good grass for many years the soil is pretty well filled with root and it would be safe to plow all th# ground as the sod and roots woulJ prevent washing for a season or two" I would plow lengthwise of the hill, also plant trees and do all cultivation! same way—never up and down; Ground should be kept loose and clean for at least four feet around the trees all season. I would plant some kind of hoed crop, as potatoes, beans, or even corn the first year, after which cow peas make an ideal orchard crop. r)iey may be cut for hay, or, better yet, be left on the ground as a winter covering, to prevent erosion and pro vide an abundance of plant food for future use of trees. In four or five years the trees ought to begin to bear, and I would then sow grass again, which would be cut and piled under the trees or left unraked on the ground, to decay. With this treatment I believe a good orchard can be grown on hillsides, and made to produce profitable crops with out the use of fertilizers, for many years at least. If for any reason the planter feels certain that the above treatment will not hold the soil, my plan would be to dig a place for each tree. Then spade up the ground for a few feet around them and mulch heavily with the cut grass as soon as possible In the season. While I am not an advo cate of this method of growing trees in sod ground by mulching, I am con vinced there are certain conditions under which tt might succeed. A. Gage, Jefferson Co., 111., In Farmers' Review. I Jno. Letter Tangle, Whole: I am a jewel rare. Beheaded: A nobleman, I declare. Curtailed ; A luscious fruit I give to you. Beheaded and curtailed: Without me you'd dislike to —Farmer's Sentinel. do i mm 'V fit. Most Important Field Crops. Eicht principal cereals are gtown in They are, lu the acreage, corn, wneat, rye. buckwheat, rice. In 1899 the acreage de voted to cereals was 184,000,000, over 44 per cent of the total improved In thet yeai the total vj the cereal crops was $1,484. 51 per cent of the total value of all crops produced. 'i, the United States, erder of their oats, barley, kafir corn. 1 area, ue of all I v38. or Li the census of 151*j the pro iuctlon of corn was reported at; about 70(,u"0, 00'l bushels. In 1880 the amount was 1.754.000. 000 bushels; in 1890. 000,000 bushels and in 1900, 2,606,000. .000 bushels. was reported by tue census of 1870 at 287.000,000 brshels; by the ensus of 18SO at 459,000.090 hv-hels: b ' the census cf 1890 at 468,000,000 bushels; by the census of 1900 at 658,000,000 bushels. The production of oat* was 282.000. 000 bushels in 18C9; 407,0(0,000 bushels in 1879; 809,000,000 bushels in 1889 and 943,000,000 bushels in 1899. The production oi wheat The three grains given are b r far the most important ones grown 1 i the Un'ted States. All the other cereal crops combined are but a small mat ter compared with the three great cereal crops. Thus in the last census I year the relative acreages of the sight crops mentioned were in per cen s as follows : 1 Corn, 51.3 ; wheat, oats, 16; barley, 2.4; rye, 1.1; >uck wheat, 0.4; rice, 0.2; kafir con. 0.2. Thus the aggregate percentage of barley, rye, buckwheat, rice and kafir 28.4; corn was 4.3, while even oats was 16. Based on total values the per 'ents were: Corn, 55.8; wheat. 21.9; oats, 14.6; barley, 2.8; rye, 0.8; rice, 0 6; kafir corn, 0.1, a total for the las( five of 4.7 per cent. Ft will thus fie seen that a report on the increase in torn, oats and wheat Is equivalent to t re port on progress In the growing of all cereals Among the most important ol all crops grown in the United Stdiei are the hay and forage crops. An in crease in these means ar. enormous increaso of wealth. In 1879 there were 30,000,000 acres in hay and for age crops; In 1889 the acreage wai 52, 000,000; and in 1899 the acreage was JB 61,000,000. forage and hay for these years vas: 21 1879, 35,000,000 tons; 1889, 66,000,000 fg tons; 1899, 79,000,000 tons. I The production of dry Our Asset in Farm Machiner). A government report says: ' TheJH American farmer buys annually $100,-JH 000,000 worth of farm implements and-ij machinery and the total assessed valu# of this portion of his equipment i# over $761,000,000." At this rate th* farmer in ten years will pay o tt a billion dollars for farm Implement». This sum is so vast that it is almost beyond human comprehension, yet there is no reason to suppose thaï th® estimate is too high. Is there not ?oo#f ' ' reason therefore for advising th® farmer to take the best of care &f th® " , machinery that he has? It is (file at the farmer's assets that most rapidly deteriorates and if neglected -soo® ' ceases to become an asset. Nearly aflf. farm Implements can be destroyed by natural elements, drying out by th® air, rusting by the presence of mois ture and the destruction of the wood work by repeated wetting and drying. Every farmer should have a tool hous* i and every tool should have a plao® there. All the woodwork should b% j covered with paint, as this protects ietP He does notfe even need to use paint; he can useM linseed oil, giving the woodwork set^H from the air and the rain. eral b: I rue metal work should protected with a like coating. Tact, a little hit of linseed oil will go a very long way in saving farm machin ery. No paint and no linseed oil will stand all kinds of weather condition. Therefore, tools should be carefully housed when not in actual use.—John Axminster, Chase Co., Kan., in Farm ers' Review. ID : Planting Crops on Dry Soils. When a man tries to work soil and one that will a dry remain dry throughout the season he must modify his operations to suit the not best for him to use upon such soil a crop that has to be sown broadcast, for the reason that it would be then impossible for any cultivation done to preserve moisture. case. It is to be He must drill his crops, placing the drills - sufficient distance apart to permit him to cultivate between the rows during the dryest part of summer, and thus prevent the loss of all moisture ex cept through the leaves of the plants Dry soil farming is therefore a science by Itself. Its methods can never be those applicable to the humid states The success of a farmer on a dry soil depends on his ability to study his own questions and to analyze his own situations. at Around the Farm. Pastures and meadows require as much attention as cultivated fields to keep them from running out Yearly reseeding of the bare places Is neces sary, else the clover and timothy will give way to less desirable grasses A dilapidated fence looks of the otherwise The cost of destroys the neat farm growing an acr* of sorghum silage at the Tennessee sta tion was $19.48; of corn, $14.92- corn ™ d .8G BOr8hUm ' beans. Farmers who experience difficulty i„ making good silage, either cut the -rop too green or else have impron erly constructed silos.