Oakes Republican., December 09, 1898, Image 5

About Oakes Republican. (Oakes, N.D.) 1898-1906

Image provided by: State Historical Society of North Dakota

                
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:s SOME WAYS OF LOYE.
Mr. Singleton—Falling in love is
nonsense., It doesn't follow that a fel
low won'^ dp it, all the same. I was
very near doing it myself, once upon a
time. She had a way of looking down
when you were talking to her and of
looking up when she wasn't looking
down. Ah! different girls have dif
ferent lines. Hers was the domesticat
ed. "You really must try this salad,
Mr. Singleton," her mother would say
"Louise made it." Or, "Do have an
other piece of Louisa's pie the dear
girl will be so disappointed if you ilo
not appreciate her cooking."
As for Louisa's pastry—well, it need
ed no pressing. If I had started the
courting business seriously and gor.e
there every evening I should have be
come a confirmed dyspeptic, so irre
sistible were its attractions. Unfor
tunately we are so constructed that we
like everything that is not good for us,
and I But I am digressing. Also,
Louisa was singularly accomplished at
sewing. Putting on a couple of but
tons was nothing to her. I found. You
may smile! Perhaps you haven't tried
sewing on buttons? I have and I know
the difficulties.
What with the cooking and the sew
ing and the looking up and the looking
down, it was nearly a case with me.
I got to going there three times a week
and was thinking of an excuse for
making it four, when an aunt fell ill
and Louisa's mother went away to
nurse her. The night after her depar
ture I went to supper as usual. There
was no oil in the salad, the pie wasn't
half done and the pie crust—ugh!—I
can't bear to think of it! Then the
truth dawned upon me. Louisa's pas
try was made by Louisa's mother.
The shock—and the pastry—so upset
me that I didu't call for several days.
Then I rallied. At any rate, Louisa
could sew, I reflected. You see, 1
wanted some excuse to marry her, so
I went there again. She greeted me
with a reproachful coolness. "I thought
at any rate you would come round for
your shirt," she said "I have sewn the
buttons on the collar."
"Oh, Louisa!" I began—I was about
to take her in my arms—when my
eyes lighted on the button. It was
black it was made of metal it was
ten times too large! It was, in short,
the kind that my tailor uses for—er—
other garments! So I escaped. It was
providential. But sometimes I think—
you see, she had a very nice way of
looking up—and down.
The Rev. John Shy (communicat
ed)—
AFTER GRACE.
A curate once courted a nice little
miss,
Grace by name, and by nature a sin
ner
He never dared ask for "Just one little
kiss,"
P'raps he thought by his preaching
to win her!
His most passionate speech, when they
sat down together,
Was "A very fine day," or "Most
singular weather!"
"Ah, me! He is vowed unto silence,"
she cried
'Tis my mission to make him .ab
jure it
Pa must ask him to dinner I'll sit by
his side,
And I really should think I could
cure it!"
So he came, and they all tried their
hardest to make
Him really at home to insure it,
He was seated by Grace, and, his si
lence to break,
Said her father (who couldn't endure
it)—
Forgetting the "blessing"—"Now what
will you take?"
"I should like to say—Grace
said the curate!
Miss Flossie Smiles—Ma says it
will be time enough for me to think of
1 LOOKED UP, AND
love-making when I'm two or three
years older and wear my dresses quite
long. I don't contradict her—ma is so
stupid about such things, you know
but I can't help laughing. Why, it
was only the other day that she was
saying that, if you want to do,any--j
thing well, you must start practicing it
when you are young. And that's just
what Fred Marcliant says—the impu
dent fellow! He used to he aWfully
shy, but he isn't now ?t l^ast ,not
with me. It's very" tiresome of him,.'
because I don't like boys to be so silly?'
I should be dreadfully angry with him
if he wasn't—I mean if he didn't ^welj^
he's rather nice. you know!
lie's a crcat Ug fe'lenv, at .-the same
K"»V
school with my brothers. You can't
help noticing him if you go to any of
their sports. He's always making fif
ties or kicking goals or winning races
or something. You wouldn't! think he
was afraid of a lion to see him then.
But when he came to my iliouse he
ussed to sit and blush and twiddle his
cap, just because of me! It::made me
cross! Of course I didn't care about
him or want him to take any. notice of
me, really only it seemed so stupid.
Besides, people might have fancied
that he thought I wasn't nice. I knew
he didn't think that, because he used
to stare at me so when he thought I
wasn't looking.
All the same, I couldn't get him to
say much more than "yes" or "no" to
me. till one evening he came round to
show the mater and pater a little
bronze figure he had won at some
sports—such a dear little pug. with a
saucy little face that seemed to scowl
and laugh both at once.
"Oh!" I cried, "isn't he lovc-ly! 1
am so fond of dogs!"
"Do you really like him, Miss Flos
sie?" he said, eagerly. "I don't want
it. We've got such a lot at home. '.Do
keep it, please."
He put it right in my hands and
when ma said, 'Certainly not!" in her
most emphatic tones, he only laughed
and took up his cap and ran away. Ma
said that the pater would be sure to
make me send it back but he didn't—
only pinched my ear and said some
thing about "beginning in early days!"
After that, of course, I felt must be
nice to Fred but he was so aggravat
inglv shy that I didn't know how to
thank him. But a few evenings later,
when I had been playing tennis with
him and the boys—they were awfully
tiresome coming home, and at last they
ran away from me. Fred didn't go
with them, so we walked home togeth
er. He kept looking round him uneas
ily, and I was afraid that in a. minute
he would follow. However, I told him
I was afraid to go through the lane
alone, and then he said he would come
with me.
"You needn't unless you like, you
know." I told him. "I don't want to
bother you."
"Oh, no!" he said, "I—er—you—er—
I should like to."
"That's a story," I said.
"No, it isn't." He stuck his hands
in his pockets and had another look
round. Boys are so funny!
"Won't you be frightened?" I asked.
"No-o." He fidgeted with his rac
quet. "I don't think I'm frightened of
many things."
"Oh, but you are!" He looked sur
prised.
"What soH of things?"
"Poor, harmless little things," I said,
demurely, "that wouldn't hurt a fly."
He looked at me doubtfully.
"Hew do you know I'm frightened?"
"Because you blush."
"You mean I'm shy with girls, don't
you?" I couldn't help laughing. It
sounded so comical.
"Oh, dear, no," I said. Then I
laughed again.
"Perhaps," he suggested, "it's a good
job I'm shy. If I weren't you might
think me too bold."
"Oh, no, I shouldn't!" I looked up
at him just to make him blush as
usual, you know and if he didn't sud
denly stoop down, just as I looked up,
and
Of course, I hadn't the least idea
that he would do such a thing! 1
should have been ever so cross with
him, only—well, he had given me that
dear little pug, don't you see!—St.
Paul's.
South American Pickpockets
Practice makes perfect even in
wrong-doing and in the use of what
seem to be very awkward means. A
writer in the Boston Transcript says:
The Gauchos, or dwellers, on the ex
tensive plains of Buenos Ayres, are
marvelously dexterous with both
hands and feet. Many of them have
acquired, through long practice, such
skill in using their toes instead of
fingers that they can fling the lasso
and even pick pockets with them.
Some time ago a Frenchman, who was
fishing in one of the rivers of Buenos
Ayres, was warned to he on his guard
against the light fingered natives. He
forthwith kept a vigilant watch upon
his companions, but, nevertheless, one
day when his attention was closely
riveted on his float, a wily Gaucho
drew near and delicately inserting his
foot, extracted the Frenchman's hooks
atrd other valuable from his pocket.
Vast Wealth In Jewel*.
The glorious pearl necklace which
the emperor of Austria presented to the
late empress on the christening of the
miserable Crown Prince Rudolph has
been left to the young Archduchess
Elizabeth, together with many other
jewels, by her grandmother's will. The
empress' own jewels, independent of
those belonging to the crown, were not
long-since valued at $7,000,000.
The Vervain Plant.
The plant known as vervain, which
is not distinguished for its beauty, and
which grows now-a-days utterly disre
garded, was so sacred to the Druids
that they only gathered it for their
divinations when the great dog-star
arose, in order that neither sun nor
moon should see the deed.
HE SAVED THE WRONG MAN.
Hard Luok Story Told by a Talkative
Life Insurance Agent.
From the Detroit Free Pr.ess: "I al
ways take a pride in the business,"
said the aealous life insurance agent,
"and never fail to take a step that,
will redound to the interests of my
company. I think the company appre
ciates my efforts in its behalf, as a
steady increase in salary lias been my
fortune ever since I began working for
it. But I once had an experience that
somewhat dampened my ardor and
showed me that there is a limit in
looking out for your company's in
terests. I insured a man for $5,000.
He was a splendid risk, sound as a
dollar, and bid fair to die of old age.
I felt sure that the company would win
out on the risk, so I was feeling pretty
good. One day soon afterward I was
going down the river on a boat to gee
a breath of fresh air. Looking the
passengers over, I noticed that the
party I had insured was on board, sit
ting on the railing in a very careless
position. It made me nervous to sit
there and watch that fellow taking so
many chances. I don't know why it
is, but as soon as a man gets his life
insured he seems to think that he can
flirt with death like a yellow fever
immune. At last the expected hap
pened. He lost his balance and fell
overboard. I rushed to the railing and
saw at once that the fellow could not
swim. I am a pretty good swimmer
myself and the party in the water rep
resented $5,000. I couldn't afford to
see the company lose that money right
before my eyes, so I plunged in after
him. I had a deuce of a time with him
before help arrived and at one time I
thought it was up with both of us.
But help arrived at last and we were
pulled out. Then I found that I was
not yet out of the woods. The party
was unconscious and it was a question
whether he would live or die. I got
him ashore and hired every doctor I
could get to work over him, regardless
of expenses. They succeeded in bring
ing him around at last and I was in
the act of sending a glowing acount
to my company, together with a pretty
stiff bill, when I made the discovery
that he wasn't the fellow I had in
sured, only a man that looked like
him. Worse than that, he was insured
for $25,000 in a rival company."
STRANGE SEARCH BY POLICE.
Sleuthing Paris Not lor a Criminal, but
an Honest Man.
At the present moment the police of
Paris are engaged on rather an un
usual task. They are in search of an
honest man, not like the Greek philos
opher of old, in a skeptical spirit, but
for the very reason that he has fur
nished striking evidence of his integ
rity. As a matter of fact, when this
interesting individual shall be found
he is to be provided with a post in the
service of the prefecture. It is a
touching story, which reflects the ut
most credit on all concerned. Re
cently Mme. Blanc, the wife of the pre
fect of police, discovered on her re
turn from a visit to Passy that she had
lost her purse, containing nearly 200
francs, and ascertained to her satis
faction on the following morning that
it had been brought by a stranger to
the office of the local commissary. The
lady made kind inquiries about this
person and an investigation showed
that he had been living in a small
hotel in the neighborhood, but that a
few hours before he came across the
money he had been obliged to leave the
house, as all his funds had been ex
hausted. The poor fellow had been re
duced to the utmost destitution, but
he had manfully resisted the tempta
tion, if, indeed, it occurred to him at
all to appropriate the purse and its
contents, which he had conveyed ab
solutely intact to the office. When she
learnt that this honest man was wan
dering about homeless and without the
wherewithal to buy even a morsel of
bread Mme. Blanc was deeply moved,
and she not only lost no time in ask
ing her husband to institute an active
search for him, but begged the prefect
to keep one of the places at his dis
posal for Louis Dubourg, and she
added: "As soon as he is found let
him have the 184 francs. The money
would burn my fingers if I took it
back under such conditions." So it
has come about that instead of being
eagerly on the lookout for someone
who has come into collision with the
law its agents are searching high and
low for the perpetrator of a meritor
ious act. So far their efforts have not
been crowned with success, but it is
to be hoped that kind-hearted Mme.
Blanc will not be kept long in sus
pense.
Two Views of tlio Cage.
"No, I do not think she will marry
again. She vowed on the day he was
buried she would not." "Ah! Think
ing about it already,"was she?"—Cin
cinnati Enquirer.
AH Put On.
"I hate to see a man sailing undei
false colors that way." "What way?"
"The way Kidder is. Why, he's, lu
mourning for his mother-in-law."
FOB BOYS AND GIRLS.
SOME GOOD STORIES FOR OUR
JUNIOR READERS.
ft
How the Mill Grinds—Phil's KxperUnent
—A Story for Little Folk That Makes
for the Good of Future Generation!—
In'llu the Teasing Puisy.
How the Mill Grinds.
The fellow at the ladder's top, to him
all glory goes,
And the fellow at the bottom is the
fellow no one knows.
No good are all the "had beens," for
in country and in town
Nobody cares how high you've been
when once you have come down.
When once you have been president
and are president no more,
You may run a farni. or teach a school,
or keep a country store.
No one will ask about you, you never
will be missed,—
The mill will only grind for you while
you supply the grist.
—Burlington Hawkeye.
Phil's Experiment,
"Have I got to take up theBe leaves
every day?" said Phil, with a whine in
his voice.
"Yes, every day."
"But what is the use? They keep
on falling, and make just as big a litter
as before."
"Your room has to be set in order
every day," said his mother, smiling.
"I wouldn't care much if it wasn't,"
said Phil.
"And your shirts have to be washed
every week. And the dishes you eat
from have to be washed three times
a day. You keep on eating, you
know."
Phil could not forbear a smile as he
slowly raked away at the leaves.
"Seems to me I have to do a good
deal of work for other folks," he went
on, mournfully. "I have to pile wood
and cut kindlings and drive the cow
and water the flowers—and things."
"Do you have more to do for others
than others do for you?" asked his
mother.
"Yes, ma'am I guess so. Anyway,
if I could stop doing things for folks,
they might stop doing things for me."
"Do you really mean that?"
"Yes, indeed!" said Phil, eagerly.
"May I try it, mamma?"
"If you like. You may try it for
one day."
"Remember, then, mamma, nobody's
to ask me to do a single thing, and
I'll remember my part. Hurrah!"
Phil dropped the rake over the small
pile of leaves and rushed away to look
at his fishing line, for he had made up
his mind to go fishing in the afternoon
and have a pleasant time.
Running hastily to the barn, he fell
and tore a hole in his trousers.
"Mamma," he cried, picking himself
up and going toward the house. But
he suddenly remembered that mamna
was not to be called upon. He ran up
stairs to change his torn garments.
"Ah! Two buttons off of my other
pants, and I forgot to tell about it.
Never mind! I can sew them on my
self. I often have. It's easy enough
to sew on buttons."
It took him a long time to thread
the needle, and then every stitch was
a separate trial. But, as he sprang to
put on his trousers, he foutid that they
were sewed to the skirt of the coat he
had on. The schoolbell was ringing,
ana he rushed away with the torn
trousers on.
But he was late, to his regret, for
he had begun school with a resolution
not to have one tardy mark during the
year.
The tear in the trousers kept catch
ing in things, and tearing larger, until
he was very much ashamed of it, and
was glad at length to hurry home. As
he again sewed on the buttons he could
not help wondering if mending one's
clothes were not a little harder than
cutting kindlings.
"Never mind!" he said to himself.
"Nobody will ask me to do anything
after dinner, and I can do just what I
please all day when I get out of
school."
The task finished, he went to the
dinner table with a boy's appetite.
"Where is my place%" he asked, see
ing no place ready for him.
"Have you forgotten our agree
ment?" asked his mother.
"Why, no, mamma. I said nobody
need do anything for me. I am going
to wash my own dishes when I'm
done."
1
"But do you expect any one to cook
for you?"
Phil stared at her for a moment,
then gave a rather blank look at the
roast beef and sweet potatoes.
"I did forget, that's a fact!" he said,
with a laugh, as he turned and went
out.
But there was little spirit in the
laugh, and mamma looked after him
with a sober face.
"I can't see him miss dinner," she
said. But his father said: "Let him
learn his lesson well. It will not hurt
him."
Phil went out to the orchard and ate
apples, not troubling himself to think
whether any one had roiled them for
him. and rejoicing in the reflection
thai-, whan hlcknff iqm» ha would
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flot have any part that work to
do.
He went fishing, and on the way
home he had the satisfaction of sit
ting on the fence to watch his brother
^en-clrive the cow home. Ben hailed
him—
""The Pratts have coriie to tea."
"That's Jolly!" shouted Phil, spring
ing from the fence and running home,
leaving Ben to plo^ along with the
cow.
1
He hurried to his room. The bed
was not made, and everything he had
touched that day lay just whore he had
left it, which did not trouble him.
"Hello!—no water!" he exclaimed, as
the empty pitcher flew up in his hand.
But, bethinking himself, he ran for his
own water.
"Now for a clean collar." But his
face fell as he saw none in his drawer.
What did. he want of a collar, any
way? No one would expect to see him
at the tea-tble.
But, as he lay awatt£ after going to
bed, restless and a trifle hungry, he
began to wonder if his bargain was
altogether a satisfactory one. He re
called something he had heard his
mother say about it being impossible
for any one to live unto himself or to
escape the duties and responsibilities
owed by each to others, and that all
peace and harmony and happiness de
pend upon the good-will and cheeri
ness and loving kindness with which
these duties are performed.
Next morning he awoke, at the
sound of the breakfast bell, to a keen
perception of the delightful smell of
mutton chops, buckwheat cakes and
other good things.
"Well," he exclaimed, jumping up,
"I'm not going to live another day
on apples, if I know myself, it's a
mean, sneaking thing to try to shirk
things. I get all I want to eat, and
good, too!" And he sniffed eagerly,
as the appetizing smell came stronger.
"And it's a pity if I can't do a little
to help on."
He went out, and had the leaves
raked before breakfast, at which he
appeared with a glowing color and a
sidelong glance at mamma.
"I think I've tried it long enough,
mamma," he said, with a smile. "I be
lieve I'll do chores and board with you,
if you'll take me back."
"I will," said mamma, passing him
the hot cakes.
The Laughing Plant.
This grows in Arabia, and derives
its name from the peculiar intoxication
produced in those who partake of its
seed. It is of the moderate size, with
bright yellow flowers and soft velvety
seed pods, each of which contains two
or three seeds resembling small black
beans. The natives of the district
where the plant grows dry these seeds
and reduce them to powder. A small
dose of this powder has effects similar
to those arising from the inhalation of
laughing gas. It causes the soberest
person to dance, shout, and laugh with
the boisterous excitement of a mad
man, and to rush about, cutting the
most ridiculous capers for nearly an
hour. At the expiration of this time
exhaustion sets in, and the excited
person falls asleep, to wake after sev
eral hours with no recollection of his
antics.
The botanical classification of the
growth has not yet been identified.—
Montreal Pharmaceutical Journal.
fche Tease Cat.
An English paper recently told the
story of a cat named M'liss. M'liss was
a tease. When (he other cat curls her
self up for a sleep, M'liss will get in a
position near her, and when she is
sure her friend is asleep M'liss gives
her a quick tap on the head to waken
her, and then she crouches out of
sight, or runs away. Then when puss
curls down again and falls asleep, she
is roused in the same way, until she
catches M'liss, and there is a fight.
But this ending does not cure naughty
M'liss of her teasing tendencies. The
next day she repeats her offenses in
evident enjoyment.
I wonder if you have ever known any
boys and girls like this teasing cat.
An Unkind Parent.
Mrs. Sharp—Our daughter is now
nearly 15 years of age and I think it
is time she had some kind of a'musi
cal instrument to play on.
Mr. Sharp—What a remarkable co
incidence. I had the very same thought
this morning when she was singing in
the dining room.
Mrs. Sharp—What instrument do
you think would be the most suitable?
Mr. Sharp—I think a steam? calliope
would be about the proper thing. It's
the only instrument I know of that
would drown her voice.
A Lucky Irishwoman.
It is announced that Miss Ann Cor
rigan, of Ashburne, county Meath, has
been left a legaoy of £20 per annum by
the late impress of Austria. During
one of her visits to Ireland the late
empress called at the school of which*
Miss Corrigan was then mistress, and
became greatly Interested In the chil
dren. The legacy now comes after
many vears "In kind remembrance."
'i