The Bottineau pioneer., June 14, 1888, Image 4

About The Bottineau pioneer. (Bottineau, N.D.) 1885-1895

Image provided by: State Historical Society of North Dakota

                
iPjeftotthrmfwum
B* THE PIONEER PUBLISHING CO.,
JOHN W. BENNETT, Manager & Editor
BOTTINEAU, DAKOTA
A New York dinner prepared foi
twenty-five guests was enjoyed by two
at the time of the blizzard.
A brass clock 140 years old is own
ed at York, Pa. It has not stop
ped lor fifty years, and it keeps good
time.
At the great ball recently given by
President Carnot in Paris, dressmak
ers were on duty near the ballroom
doot-a to mend skirts that had been
torn in the crush.
In order to cure whooping cough in
Warwickshire village, Eng., they cut a
piece of hair from the nape of the
child's neck, chop it very fine, and
spread it on a piece of bread and give
it to a dog.
The London times speaks of the
Prince of Wales and future king oi
England as having "an unfortunate
weakness, which has led him to pat
ronize American cattle-drovers and
prize-fighters."
When the daughter of Sir Donald
Smith of the Canadian Pacific Rail
road Company, was married in Mon
treal recently, her father testified his
approval by presenting her with a
check for $2,000,000.
A funeial without a corpse occurred
in Indiana. David Hampton, ot Rich
mond, was blown to atoms by a dy
namite explosion, and all that was
found ot him was a small part of one ol
his heels on which there was a piece ol
a sock, and a fraction of a rib.
The oldest man in Germany, and
probably «n the world, is named
Wapniarek. He lives in the Vil'More ol
Hutta, near CJnesen, in the Provmet
oi Posen. He was born in 1704. He
is therefore 124 years old, and still
phows no sij n of being in any hurry
to die.
John L. Sullivan oncedrove a street
car in Boston for the paltry sum ol
$2 per ilay. It was while encaged in
this occupation that he waodiscovered
by John B. McCormick, then spotting
editor of the Cincinnati Enquirer, by
whom he was introduced to the pugil
istic world.
The "advance trick" is a new thing
in Paris. A hotelkeeper is notified tc
prepare a^tartmints for Mr.—,then to
receive parcels for him, and the third
feature is for boys to bring false par
cels ami be paid for them on delivery,
presumably to await the arrival ol
the fictitious owner.
Rider Haggard, in a note in the
March number of the Young Man,
says: "I write my books in the same
way that people do any other work
namely, by sticking at them. Making
books, like everything else, becomes a
question of taking pains and assidu
ous, unsparing labor."
Phil Armour, the great pork man,
has maile it a practice for several
jrearsipast to have the beads of de
partments of his various interests to
dine with him several times a week.
He finds that the dinner hour is the
best timr to "get at" his men, and it
is the mo. convenient way to bring
them together.
Two independent little maiden ladies
who live on a farm down in Georgia
determined to build a fence about
their grounds and secured a lot oi
rails for that purpose. Unknown
parties came at night, gathered up the
rails which lay near at hand, built
the fence by the light of the moon,
and left the occupants of the iarm in
blissful ignorance as to who had per*
formed the kind act.
The paper doors now coming into
use are claimed to possess the advan
tage over wood of neither shrinking,
swelling, cracking, nor warping.
They are formed of two thick paper
boards, stamped and moulded into
panels, and glazed together with glue
and potash, and then rolled through
heavy rollers. After being covered
with a waterproof coating, and then
one that is fireproof, they are paint
ed, varnished, and hung in the usual
way.
Mr. Pridgins, an old preacher at
High Shoals, Ga., has decided to
preach his own funeral sermon, and
has set the day the second Sunday in
April. He has ordered liis son to
jpake him a coffin, which he directs
must be perfectly plain and locked
with a padlock. The coffin will be
placed by his side in the church,
and there in the presence of friends
aad family, who are requested to wear
mourning, he will tell of his life and
pay suitable tributes to hie own mem
ory.
Several weeks ago a yung lady and
her mother went to Find lay, O., from
Michigan to visit friends. There the
young woman met a young niart who
pleaded her,
and soon they were engaged
to be married. Her lover begged fo
an immediate marriage, the girl con
sented and a day was set, byt a
friend of the girl stepped in at the last
hour and proved that the groom was
a burglar, liable to arrest at any time
and imprisonment in the penitentiary.
There was an exciting scene and the
wedding parity broke up.
IN
THE FIRELIGHT.
The fire npon the hearth is low,
And there istttUlness everywhere
Like troubled spirits, here and there
The firelight shadows fluttering go.
And as the shadows round me creep,
A childish treble breaks the gloom,
And softly from a further room
Comes: "Now I lay me down to sleep."
And, somehow, with that little pray'r
And that sweet treble in my ears,
My thought goes back to distant year*
And lingers with a dear one there
And as I hear the child's amen,
My mother's faith comes back to me—
Crouched at her side I seem to be,
And mother holds my hands again.
Oh, for an hour in that dear place—
Oh, for the penco of that dear. time
On, for that childish trust sublime—
Oh, for the glimpse of mother's face!
Yet, as the shadows roitnd me creep,
I do not seem 1o be alone—
Sweet magic of that treble tone
And "Now I lay me down to sleep!"
—EUGENE FIELD.
"ELIZA."
BY HELEX FOREST GRAVES.
"She makes a perfect picture, ou\
there in that tropical sunshine," said
Mr. Villars. "Look at her, with that
scarlet ribbon at her neck, and those
coils of hair waving blue-black in the
intense light! It is like a dream oi
Italy?"
"Yes," said Mrs. Leeds, "she is very
pretty, but that don't signify so much.
She's a good, smart girl, and don't
loose any time looking at herself in
the glass, like some I've had."
"Where did you pick her up?" asked
the young clergyman, carelessly draw
ing the newspaper from his pocket as
he sat down on the carpet of pine
needles under the big ever-green tree.
"Didn't pick her up anywhere," said
Mrs. Leeds tartly (for this was a part
of the transaction that had never been
quite satisfactory to her business like
soul). "She came along."
"Came along?" (with a slight accent
of surprise).
Yes—looking for work."
Mr. Villains lifted his eyebrows.
"Then how do you know who she is?"
he asked.
"I don't know!" retorted Mrs. Leeds,
unconsciously betraying her weak
point by this irritability of manner
"but I know what she is, and that's
more to the purpose. She's the best
washer that ever crossed my thresh
old as docile as a kitten, and as smart
as a cricket does twice the work ol
anyone e!. i hat I ever had and ii
she's ever tired, she don't say so."
Mrs. Leeds bustled off to interview
Farmer Parks for more Alderney
cream for the summer boarders, now
the house was beginning to fill up.
Mr. Villars improvised a pillow out
of his coat, folding it cylinderwise and
placed under his head, and closed hia
eyes in a sort of summer dream among
the pine boughs and butterflies.
And Eliza spreading out blackber
ries to dry on he board platform that
had been erected along the garden
fence, began to sing softly to herself.
She was very silent ordinarily, but
somehow it seemed as if the sunshine
had thawed out her very heart to-day.
Mr. Villars had been right. There
was something of the atmosphere ol
Italy about Eliza—her eyes were so
deep and dark, her hair so glossiiy
black, her cheek stained with such a
rich olive.
Moreover, she did not move like the
girls of rock-bound New England.
There was a subtle, gliding motion—
a languor of gracefulness in her gait
—which was foreign to all her sur
roundings.
The girls of the vicinage did not fra
ternize with Eliza when, at rare inter
vals, she accompanied Mrs. Leeds to
church, sewing circle or village gather
ing for in Stapleville the employer and
employe occupied one all-comprehen
sive social platform.
They said she was "odd they look
ed at her askance and Eliza always
very quiet in her ways made no effort
to insinuate herself into their good
graces.
Why should she? What did it sig
nify, one way or the other, whether
Deborah Smart, and Keziah Hayes,
and Abby Jane Clark liked her or not,
as long as Mrs. Leeds was pleased with
her?
But the village
girls made one error
in their calculations. They had not
intended, as the time crept on, to
emphasize their antipathy to Mrs.
Leeds' Eliza so strongly as to awake
a partisan feeling in Mr. Villars' breast
but they did so, unconsciously to
themselves.
"Why do they neglect that girl so?"
the young clergyman asked himself.
"Can they not see how infinitely su
perior she is to them? It's a shame!"
And so Abby Jane Clark, and Deb
orah Smart, and Keziah Hayes seal
ed their own doom, so far as Mr. Vil
lars was concerned.
There was not one of them but
would have been delighted to win a
smile, a glance, a pleasant word from
the young man who was summering at
the Leeds farm house.
But, alas! like the priest and the
Levite, he passed by on the other side
and when the village girls, in their
afternoon muslins and ribbons, sat at
their windows and wondered why "he
came not," he was, in nine cases out
of ten, helping Eliza to gather peaches
for, tea standing beside the brook,
while sne spread out towels ana
pockethandkerchiefs' to bleach, or even
explaining to her the difference be
tween the notes of the thrush and the
woodlark, the speckled eggs of the
robin and the pearl gray treasure of
the whip-poor-will.
"He seems to be taking a notion to
her," said Mrs. Leeds to herself, as
she eyed the pair shrewdly from her
milkroom window. "Well, why
shouldn't he? It's true he's a minister,
and my own nephew but in my mind
Eliza is good enough for any man.
My sakes! won't Abby Jane Clark be
mad? If ever a girl wanted to be a par
son s wire,
AODy
jane does!"
Thus things were progressing, when
one day a smart young tradesman
from an adjoining town came to board
out his fortnight's vacation at Dea
con Clark's.
The Clarks were a well-to-do family
but the deacon was a little close in his
financial administration, and Mis.
Clark and Abby Jane were not averse
to earning a new dress now and then
out of the rent of their big spare-room.
And Mr. Trudkins brought a letter of
recommendation from a friend in
Packerton, and hedressed in the latest
fashion, and had a big black mustache
that overshadowed his upper lip like
a pent-house.
"Oh, ma, how very genteel he is!"
said Abby Jane, all in a flutter of ad
miration.
"A very nice young man, indeed/'
responded the deacon's wife.
And the very next week Abby Jane
came down to the Leeds' farm house.
"Have you heard this news about
your Eliza?" she asked of thefarmer's
wife in a mysterious whisper.
"Eh?" said Mrs. Leeds.
"She's nothing but a play actress!"
said Abbey Jane, nodding her head
until the stuffed blue bird on her hat
quivered as if it were alive. "Mr. Al
phonso Trudkins saw her himself in
the Great New York Combination
Troupe. She was acting a woman
who was married to a Cuban, and lost
her pockethandkerchief, and was af
terward choked with the pillows off
the best bed. Desdemonia her name
was, I think."
"Well, and suppose she was?" said
Mrs. Leeds, who was too good a Gen
eral to let the enemy see what havoc
had been carried into her camp.
"What then?"
"What then!" echoed Abby Jane,
Well, I do declare, Mrs. Leeds, I am
surprised!"
"I don't believe a word of it!" said
Mrs. Leeds, defiantly.
"But Mr. Trudkins saw her with his
own eyes!" cried Abbey Jane, flushing
scarlet with indignation. He knew
her the minute he looked at her yes
terday in church. Elizabeth Ellesmere
her name was, he says, in the adver
tisements, and she danced a dance
with a yellow scarf and a lot of roses,
between the pieces, making herself out
to be a Spanish mandoline player.
It's enough to make one's hair stand
on end to hear Mr. Trudkins tell
about it."
"It don't do to believe all one
hears," said Mrs. Leeds losing all
count of the eggs she was breaking in
to a china bowl, in her consternation.
"And Stapleville does beat all for gos
sip."
"Well, you can ask her yourself, and
see if she dares deny it!" said Abby
Jane, exultantly. "Here she comes
now. Ask her—only ask her!"
And Eliza came into the kitchen,
with the spice-box in her hand. Mr.
Villars followed close behind, fanning
himself with a straw hat.
"I have come from the men in the
hay-field," said he. "They want an
other jug of,cool ginger and water,
with plenty of molasses stirred in,
Aunt Leeds. Good morning, Miss
Clark! I hope the deacon is quite well
this morning?"
Abby Jane turned pink, and smiled
her most seductive smile.
"Oh, quite so," she simpered. "I—
only came on—"
"Is it true, Eliza?" Mrs. Leeds
asked, sharply. "Have you been de
ceiving me? Are you a play-actress
all this time?"
Eliza's large eyes turned slowly first
to one, then to another of the little
group. Sho did not blush—it was not
her way—but the color ebbed slowly
away from her cream-pale cheek.
"I have been deceiving nobody,"
said she. "I am not an actress now.
I have been one. But I did not like
the life, and so I left it. If any one
had asked me, I should have told
them about it long ago."
Mr. Villars came forward and stood
at the girl's side, as he saw his aunt
shrink away.
"Well," he said "even taking it all
for granted, where is the harm?"
"Charles! Charles!." cried Mrs. Leedn,
putting up her hands with a ges
ture of warning. "Remember poor
Alice!"
"It is because I remember her that
'.speak thus," said Mr. Villars, calmly.
II had an elder sister once," he added,
turning to Abby Jane Clark, "who ran
away from home and became an ac
tress. She had talents far above the
average, but my parents were old
fashioned people, and their ideas ran
in narrow grooves. They disapproved
of the stage, so Alice left us. Whether
she is dead or living we know not, but
wherever she is, I am sure that she
can not but be good and true and
pure."
Abby Jane's eyes fell under his calm
glance. She was a little sorry that
she had chosen to come hither and
bear the news herself.
Somehow, Mr. Villars had taken it
in a different spirit from whatshehad
anticipated. And Eliza's soft, lan
guidly-modulated voice broke on the
constrained silence like drops of silver
dew.
"I have been an actress, and per
haps I should still have been on the
stage," she said, "had it not been for
circumstances. My father dealt in
stage properties, and I was brought
up to the business, but still I never
liked it. But one can not easily step
out of the path where one's feet have
been placed, especially if one is
a wom
an.
"However, the turning point came
at last. Our leading lady fell sick of
a contagious fever, in a lonely village
where we had stopped to play one
night. The manager packed up every
thing in a panic, and bad us all to be
ready to go. I told him I could not
leave Mrs. Montague alone. He said
that if I left the company thus, I
should never return to it."
"Well, what could I do? The stage
was my living, it is true, but our lead
ing lady had no friends. It would
have been inhuman to desert her, sol
stayed behind and took care of her.
She died, poor thing, and it swallow
ed up all my earnings to bury her
decently.
"And then I tried here and there to
earn my living as best I could. I was
not always successful. More than
once I have been hungry ana home
less but heaven be praised I have al
ways found friends before the worst
came to the worst. Now, you know
all," she concluded quietly, leaning
up against the door, where the swing
ing scarlet beans made a fantastic
background for her face.
Mr. Villars had advanced a step or
two toward Eliza as she spoke his
gaze had grown intent.
"This—this leading lady of whom
you mention," said he, with an effort.
"Do you remember her name?" Her
real name I mean?"
"They called her Katharine Mon
tague on the bills," said Eljza. "II
she had any other name, she never
told me what it was. I say if, because
—because— Oh, Mr. Villars, I never
quite understood it before, but there
is a look in your eyes that reminds
me of her! I have been startled by
the familiar expression many a time,
but I never could convince myseli
where the link of association belonged.
And—and I still keep a little photo
graph of her that I round in her Bible
after she was dead. I kept them
both. Wait, and I will bring them to
you."
Mr. Villars gazed at the picture ir
silence. Mrs. Leeds uttered a little
cry of recognition.
"Heaven be good to us!"
she wailed
it is our Alice, sure enough."
For the leading lady in Mr. Roderick
Applegate's Cireat Combination
Troupe, the poor soul who had died
and been buried away from all her
friends, had been Alice Villars.
The sequel of this little life idyl is
simple enough. Any one may guess it.
Charles Villars married Eliza. And
even the most fastidious "sisters" of
her husband's flock can utter no word
of reproach against the minister's
wife, although she makes no secret of
the fact that she was once an actress.
And poor Abby Jane Clark is chew
ing the bitter husks of disappointment.
For even Mr. Trudkins has gone back
to Packerton without declaring him
self.
"There's no dependence to be put
upon men," says Abby Jane discon
solately.
Iiifo at West Point.
"It is impossible to judge of a person's
military ability by his standing at
West Point," said an old cadet recent
ly. "If a young fellow is a trifle care
less and forgets to invert his wash
bowl a few dozen times a year, and
goes to parade with a spot on his
trousers, or with his boots unblacked
he may pile up demerits that will give
him a poor place in his class, though
he may have a good standing in his
studies. The boys who avoid any
kind of fun that may lead to black
marks are far from favorites at West
Point.
"One cadet, who spent the last two
months of his cadet life in light prison
was found at graduation to nave more
than one hundred demerits for the
preceding six months. He passed his
examination in studies, but his defi
ciencies in discipline caused his dis
charge. Had it not been for them he
would have stood second in a class of
sixty. He managed to get an appoint
ment in the army from civil life, and
is now a lieutenant of infantry.
"The opportunities
for being report
ed for breaches of discipline at West
Point are very numerous. There are
a dozen chances during the day for
him to get a bad mark for being late.
At the inspection of quarters the ca
det gets demerits if he is found in his
room coatless, if the floor is dirt}', il
his overcoat hangs on the second nail
in the alcove, or if the shell jacket has
changed places with the night shirt.
The wash bowl must be bottom up, the
soap dish clean, the water pail full,
and towels immaculate.
"My room-mate and I once smuggled
into the barracks a basket of fruit
which a friend had sent to us. We
placed the basket upon a board wedged
far up the chimney, where it was
to remain until we had a chance to in
vite a few friends to the feast. My
chum was at the section-room and I
working at my mathematics, when a
little flaxen-haired lieutenant of caval
ry came in and I stood at attention
during his inspection. Hefoundnoth
ing out of the way and started to
leave, when suddenly he stopped,
sniffed a little, and said:
"There is fruit in this room, is there
not?"
"'I decline to answer sir,' said I.
My refusal to criminate myself, a
right that I was at perfect liberty to
exercise, made him angry. He turned
everything the room upside down,
until his attention was directed to
the chimney where the fruit was found.
He ordered it turned into the guard
house, and the next day, being called
to the commandant's office on busi
ness. I saw the last of the fruit disap
pearing down the throat of the-officer
in charge."—New York Sun.
"Under the Weather."
A St. Augustine correspondent of
The Philadelphia Record, whether in
tentionally or not, gives what may
pass for a sly thrust at the injustice
to the occupants of the soil who pre
ceded the present "owners" when he
says: "After the purchase of Florida
from Spain it took a seven years' war
with the Seminole Indians to procure
a quiet title and peaceable possession."
And he shows, further along, how the
invaders cannot conquer the climate
which he suggestively declares, "weak
ens knee-joints and kills ambition:"
It is not given to man to shape the
weather, but the weather does shape
the man. The invincible sunshine and
the warm compulsive rains soon have
their influnce upon the going and com
ing of the swiftest goers and comers.
It is not reasonable that a person
who can pick his breakfast from an
orange-tree and gather a dinner of ba
nanas should develop the energy of a
differently situated person who must
plant his potatoes and hoe and dig
them before he can have the pleasure
of eating them. So the Northerner
who comes down here and builds him
a house the first month of his stay,
and plants his grove the next gradu
ally finds himself falling into slipshod
ways. His fences get to be disreputa
ble his house is not fresh painted his
walks are neglected his garden goes to
weeds and he and his wife and his
children settle into the easy untidiness
which befits the latitude. It is the
latitude which governs. If the May
flower had landed at St. Augustine
instead of .Plymouth Rock, possibly
the Seminoles would have been sooner
exterminated but the Yankee devel
oped on the meagre and stony soil of
New-England would have been a non
existent personage. He could never
have been brought forth in an orange
grove nor fed on sweet potatoes. His
mental, moral and physical fibre ac
quired their accidental toughness in
the hard school of necessity."
Bi^: Fees for Big Doctors.
From London Truth.
Sir Morell Mackenzie has just refus
ed a nice little douceur of $30,000,
which was offered to him if he would
run across the "millpond" to see one
of the innumerable "leading citizens"
in the States. He, however, was un
willing to undertake a journey that
would place him out of the reach of
his illustrious patient at San Remo,
even for a short time. I may say, by
the way, that £6,000 is probably the
biggest thing in the way ot a single
medical fee that has been heard of in
our day. Sir Morell himself got 1,000
guineas for going to Cannes to see
Stirling Crawiord, and Dr. Halm had
the same amount for coming from
Berlin to Montagu Williams. Sir
Henry Thompson received 2,000 (of
which he returned half) for his atten
tions to poor old "Badinguet," but
these are "unconsidered trifles" com
pared with the fee $ir Morell Macken
zie has declined.
DEFEATING DEATH.
"Good bye, John take good care of
yourself aud come back as soon as
you can."
"Good bye, Nellie, dear, and don't
forget me when I am away."
Their hands warmly pressed each
other as their lips would have done
had not others been near. Then they
separated. Nellie Browning watched
the tall, strong form of John King un
til it was lost in the high grass of the
prairie and with a sigh returned to
duty.
Never before had the little isolated
way station seemed so dull, and the
tick of the telegraph instrument so
monotonous. There was literally
nothing for her to do after the cus
tomary "putting things to rights."
No train would pass for hours, mes
sages seldom troubled her, she had ex
hausted her little stock of reading.
What could she do to make the hours
pass less wearily?
She rested her bead upon the key
board and gave herself to pleasant
waking dreams, to mentally following
her lover and murmuring aloud of the
pictures thought photographed in her
heart.
"It will take John all day to in
spect the line to the wooden island in
the middle of the prairie, and he will
have to sleep there alone in the cabin.
I wonder if he will think of me all the
time, as I will of him?"
She endeavored to fix her attention
upon other things. But do what she
would her thoughts wandered back to
her lover, the lack of comfort he
would experience, and the happy day
when she would have the right to be
ever by his side.
As if the hours become leaden foot
ed they crept along. At noon she
listlessly ate the lunch she had
brought from her farm home then
she wished night would hurry along.
Darkness did come after long and
weary waiting, hei hours of duty had
ended and she was preparing to leave
when the station was called and she
was told in clicking whispers that on
account of an extra that was wild
cating she would have to remain un
til midnight.
With the reverse of a pleast expres
sion upon her face and an almost de
fiant tossing back of her auburn curls
3he sat down again. The workmen
about the station went home and left
her alone the frogs croaked mourn
fully from a neighboring slough and
the wires made weird music as the
brisk night wind played upon them.
But the experience was not new to
her there was nothing to fear and her
father would come for her when the
night was done.
Eight, nine, ten passed, and the
night was becoming painful. Some
thing must be done. She failed to re
member being so much oppressed by
the lack of society and wondered how
Robinson Crusoe could have existed
before his man Friday. Then she
thought of a female friend who was
operator at the next westward sta
tion, and, nearly dying for some one
to talk to, summoned "Sterling."
There was no reply. Try as she
would directly she could get none, but
utilizing a circuit she was answered,
and asked:
"What is the matter with the main
line?"
"Matter enough," was answered,
and her trained ear instantly told
her the touch was not of a delicately
fingered girl,but a heavy-handed man.
"The prairie is all on fire between
here and the Buffalo Heart Grove
that is beginning to burn, and when
the flames sweep round on your side
you'll have to look sharp if they don't
catch you napping, my pretty daisy."
At another time she would have
closed the key with an angry snap at
the impudent familiarity. Now there
was room in her brain for only one
maddening thought.
John King was sleeping in the cabin
in the grove, would he be surrounded
by fire, be stifled by smoke, be burned
to death!
"Prairie round Buffalo Heart Grove
a sea of flame, line down, bridges over
culverts probably burned. Stop all
trains at X," she managed to flash
back over the wire.
Then she dashed out where all
should have been darkness but was
not. For miles earth and sky were
illuminated, the roaring of the flames
could be distinctly heard, their fu
rious leaping distinctly traced,
their speed swifter than the
greyhound and their force resistless
as a cyclone. Nothing to her now
was duty, nothing that it wanted
two hour's of midnight, nothing that
many lives might hang upon her re
maining at her post. One life she
knew was in clanger, and that was to
her more than all others in the world.
With flying feet, with a desperate
resolve forming in her brain, she
hastened homeward, but did not en
ter the house—dared not for tear of
the thwarting of her purpose. As she
passed the window she saw her old
father nodding in his chair, and a
satisfied smile parted on her lips.
For all the hidden wealth of mount
ain and canyon she would not have
him walcen.
Well she knew theswiftebt and most
untiring horse in the stable. That it
was one she had never ridden, a
young, fiery, valuable blue-blooded
stallion, she never gave a thought.
Speed and courage were the things
now to be desired, and all other con
siderations, even her own safety,
were dwarfed into nothingness by
them.
With soothing voice and gentle
hands the girl led the horse* out,
bridled, saddled, and mounted. As
tonished by her daring he quietly sub
mitted. The charm of womanhood
had easily accomplished what had
ever been a difficult task for men.
Then, startled by the unusual bur
den and flapping of skirts about his
flank, he reared, plunged, pawed the
air, kicking vigorously, and made a
desperate effort to unseat the
rider. It was unsuccessful.
The hands that held the rein3,
little as they were, had a grip of iron,
and the whip left a welt upon the glos
sy skin. Madly shaking his head,
dashing out with his heels, with the
breath whistling through the tbih nos
trils, he made a second attempt
shivered as he received a still more
stinging blow, then dashed furiously
down the road.
The clatter of hoofs disturbed the
dreams of the old farmer. He sprang
to the windoft, but only to catch an
indistinct vision of something, glanced
at the clock, murmured contentedly
of having an hour before going forNel
lie, and settled himself for another
nap.
Little idea had he that his only child
and costly steed were indulging in tl.e
wildest of races under a sky lighted as
by the flames of hell and surrounded
by its fires.
The switchman saw the girl as she
flew past, saw the swift galloping
horse, the rider with her long hair
streaming in the wind, the horse as if
breathing smoke, saw without recog
nition, and superstitiously imagined
that the ghost of some red child oi the
wilderness, whose bones had been dis
turbed in building the iron track of
the pale face, was out for a midnight
revel.
For a considerable distance the
road was over an undulating prairie,
and both horse and rider enjoyed the
race then they were forced upon the
ties, and the heavily shod hoofs clat
tered alor-g the bridges then they left
it and safety and plunged upon a nar
row thread of beaten earth, with fire
swiftly rushing toward it from either
side.
The horse, brave and blooded as he
was, hesitated, as well he might but
the hand of the rider was firm and the
whip merciless. A brief hour had
transformed the gentle girl into a
woman maddened by love and su-
Ead
erior to danger. The one idea that
taken possession of brain and
pulsating heart remained permanent.
John King was in danger of being con
sumed. She must save him or
And very soon the horse became
mad as well. With long and seeming
ly tireless strides he stretched himself
His black skin was flecked with foam,
his sides were heaving as a bellows,
like escaping steam his breath was
blowing, his eyes were red with exer
tion, and his frame trembled with ex
citement.
On, on they pressed, on thud far in
little danger, for the fire was yet at a
distance. But with every moment
it became nearer, nearer, closed upon
them and blazing sparks fell thickly
as rain.
On, on, and the flames leaped up
ward and at times closed over their
heads they were rushing as through
a tunnel of hissing, roaring fire it was
crowding in upon them, was beneath
their feet, was playing in fantastic
shapes around and above.
Mad as the -eirl was with desire to
reach her lover the horrors of the
situation were forced upon her brain.
She bowed her head to the fiery
storm, shielding her face, and often
extinguished her burning dress spoke
encouragingly to the horse, patted
his quivering neck, used the deep cut
ting lash, cutting a hundred times
more cruelly, for his sides were crack
ing with the heat, and the blood was
oozing Irom the blistered wounds.
On, still on but more slowly at every
stride, with steps less firm and secure,
breath more scant, courage less high
and pace less swift. Never yet a steed
that could bear such a fearful strain,
never yet flesh that could resist a
Sry,
rarie fire with hundreds of acres of
tall grass and reeds for fuel and
fanned by a gale.
On! The girl shielded her eyes with
her trembling hands, and above the
smoke saw the waving of trees. As
yet the furious fire had not reached,
at least had ,not penetrated, them.
There was life, safety and more than
all, love. Could she reach them? A
scanty half mile had yet to be travel
ed. Instinct, often as clear to discover
asmind, told thehorse of thesituation
as clearly as her eyes. She called up
on him, and he answered she bowed
to the saddle, she shut her eyes, and
then!
The flames whirled round, and they
were Wrapped in a winding sheet of
them, the red, huge forked tongues
touched them with blistering kisses,
the wind roared through the gigantic.
furnace, the earth was hot beneath,
the air burning above deer, wolf,
every creeping thing were outfooted
in the race, were beaten down oy a
swift death, and how could they pos
sibly escape.
On! Between them and the shelter
ing trees but a few rods remained but
a few feet. Could they be overcome?
Voice and lash urged the noble horse
on. He struggled to obey, but his
best efforts were becoming feebler, his
heart was beating slow, the iron
muscled limbs were fast becoming use
less. A single burst of speed, at the
beginning, would have been enough—
the racing of a few seconds all that
was required.
Frantically the girl shouted, in de
spair she lashed the reeking sides.
The horse gathered lor a supreme ef
fort, reeled, staggered, fell, even as the
wind roared and the fire hissed more
savagely.
But the impure had been sufficient
to carry him beyond the blazing death
and the bushes closed behind and the
trees rose above and protected them
from the scorching heat.
"God be thanked," exclaimed the
suffering girl as she knelt beside ti e
gallant norse. "God be thanked,"
and she flung her arms around his
neck arrtl shed bitter tears as she saw
how scared and burned he was, re
gardless of her own sufferings.
With difficulty she urged him to his
feet and led him forward. But he
knew as well as she of their safety, of
the necessity of moving, and lamblike
followed deep into the wood where
the cabin stood.
"John, dear John," rang out the
voice of the girl.
"Nellie! Great God is that you?"
was answered and questioned, and a
moment later she was locked in his
protecting arms.
In a few words she told all, and beg
ged him to do all possible for the
norse.
"Now and ever" he answered. "One
moment." He climbed to the top of
a tall tree, looked around, descended
and said cheerfully: "The wind has
changed and the fire is rushing away
from the timber w^are safe here.
But why in the name of heaven did
vou attempt such
a dangerous chance,
Nellie?"
"Because, dear, I loved you so,"
and she dropped fainting upon his anx
iously throbbing breast.—The Pic
torial West.
Chemistry of a Tear.
The principal element in the compo
sition of a tear, as may readily be
supposed, is water. The other ele
ments are Bait, phosphate of lime,
phosphate of soda1 and mucus, each
in small proportions. A dried tear
seen through a microscope oi good,
average power, presents a peculiar ap
pearance. The water, after evapora
tion, leaves behind it the saline in
gredients, which amalgamate and
form themselves into lengthened cross
lines and book like a number of mi
nute fish bones.
Advice to Boy Teri
Come, my son, it is time yon were
getting ready for a spring campaign
against the Indians and grizzlies, says
M. Quad, in 'the Detroit Free Press,
You have been reading "DarlingDan,"
"Ike, the Indian Slayer," "Gus, the
Grizzly Killer," and other exciting
and truthful stories, intended to make
a boy dissatisfied with humdrum life,
and your mind is made up to go
west.
You must have an outfit. That
can be got while waiting for spring to
open. (5ne reason why so many boy
hunters make a failure is because they
economize too much in the outfit.
Don't be stingy in buying guns. It
will be all the .fetter if you
have a Spencer cafBfiie arm"
a double-barreled shotgun to
go with your Winchester. Sup
pose you came suddenly upon a band
of eighteen Apache warriors. You
could only kill sixteen of them with
your Winchester and two would be
left to ride off and alarm the tribe.
By having some extra guns along you
are sure of the whole crowd, and the
tribe won't get onto you.
And don't scrimp on bowie knives.
It would be an almost fatal mistake
to start out with only two. Buy four
at the very least. They are for use at
close quarters with grizzlies. Ofcourse
one bowie is enough to kill one boar
with, but you may be attacked by
four bears at once, and four knives
would then be in demand. If you
don'tget but three bowies make up the
deficiency with a Spanish scilletto or
a Moorish dagger. It will come in
handy, not only in a close fight, but
to pick your teeth with at the camp
fire.
As for the dress, get fringed buck
skin, a coonskin can and regular moc-
casins. Such things as shirts, collars,
cuffs and handkerchiefs would be only
waste luggage. It you should appear
in Miles City with a collar on it wouid
give you away at once. Nobody would
suspect tha tyou were the young ter
ror from th eeast who was a,ching for
a chance to tie a knot in a grizzly
bear's tail.
You should take at least 200
pounds of ammunition. You may be
corralled somewhere in the Rocky
mountains by 400 fierce and deter
mined Indians and you don't want to
lose your scalp for the want of a iew
extra catridges. All the provisions
needed is a sack of jerked buffalo meat.
It doesn't make the least bit of differ
ence whether the buffalo was jerked
off his feet, over a precipice Tor head
over heels. If the meat is a fly-blown
it will add to your dignity as a hunt
er. You can chew plug tobacco or not,
just as you feel about it, but it would
be wisest to do so. All the champion
terrors chew large quantities, and the
juice comes handy to spit in a rattle
snake's eyes.
I wouldn't take a horse if I were
you. He would be a great deal of
trouble to take care of, and most of
your hunting will be in a rough
country. The true terror has always
gone a-foot and always will. Any
body on horseback can make up faces
at a grizzly and gallop of out of reach.
One great mistake which the aver- ,
age boy makes is in planning to ac
complish too much the first season.
Most of them figure in wiping out
about 1,000 Indians and twice that
number of bears. Keep your esti
mates down to a reasonable figure.
You feel ambitious and enthusiastic,
of course, but there is a limit to whalr
a boy can do. Set your figure at
about 400 Indians and 300 grizzlies.
This will be almost two per day the
year around and will keep you from
spoiling.
"I should scalp every Indian I shot.
It not only looks more business
like to do so, but that's what
you've got a scalping knife for, and if
you can get about 200 scalp locks
you can make the nicest door mat
you ever saw. It doesu't hurt a dead
Indian a bit to scalp him, and if you
don't take it it will go to waste. It
would be well to have a six-mule team
follow you at the distance of a mile
or so to pick up and care for the rifles,
knives, bows and ariows aud war
clubs of the slain Indians. These can
be run east by car lots aud sold at
auction, and the profits will buy all
yojr ammmunition. Don't extermin
ate any particular strike of red men,
but kill off about one-fourth of seven
or eight different tribes. This will ex
tend your reputation as a terror.
As to the best way of killing an In
dian I shall not pretend to advise.
Some boys prefer to shoot him, and
others believe in s ticking him with a
knife. If you can catch him in a deep
gorge you might drop a big bowlder
down on his head. Another way is to
catch him by the foot with a lasso
and drag him over the earth until his
spinal column is worn down to a
toothpick. In any event the fun wilt
be all on your side.
It's a little different with the griz
zly bear. He won't be quite so terror
stricken over your sudden appear
ance. being built on a different plan.
You expect some show of resistance,
however, that you may have oppor
tunity to show your pluck. Some of
these pale-faced weak-kneed boys hold
a grizzly off at long range and fill him
up with bullets, but you will never
see their wood-cuts in a dime novel.
The true terror will wind his Mexican
serape around his left arm, hold it)
out for the bear to chew on, and,
while the beast is busy getting a meal,
Eeart.
ut the bowie knife into him to the
You will be a trifle nervous
with your first bear, but after that it
will be as easy as climbing a fence.
The claws should be separated from
the skin and sold in a different lot.
The latest quotation on bears' claws
is $16 per bushel, and if you can't
average more than two bushels per
day you will still make a good day of
it.
The Sentence.
Lord Coekburn's looks, tones, lan
guage, and manner were always such
as to make one think that he believed
every word he said. On one occasion,
before he was raised to the Bench,
when defendihg a murderer, although
he failed to convince the Judge and
jurymen of the innocence of his client,
yet he convinced the murderer him*
self that he was innocent. Sentence
of death was pronounced, and the
day of execution fixed for, say, thq
20th of January. As Lord Cockbura
was passing the condemned man the
latter seized him by the gown saying:
"I have not got justice, Mr. Cockburn
I have not got justice." To this the
advocate coolly replied: "Perhaps
not, but you'll get it on the 20thof
January."—Chambers's Journal.
i