The Irish standard. [volume], August 17, 1912, Image 7

About The Irish standard. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn. ;) 1886-1920

Image provided by: Minnesota Historical Society; Saint Paul, MN

                
I
LOVE'S FURLOUGH
PROVES A WINNER
Proof That Dreams Sometimes
Reach to the Reality.
By IZOLA FORRESTER.
"It's only to be absolutely sure."
Suzanne did not look at him as she
spoke. It was far too hazardous. But
Don was taking it very calmly. He
regarded her with, unblinking eyes
from his perch on the veranda rail.
"But we stay engaged?"
"Oh, yes," Suzanne assented, cheer
fully.
"I
Suzanne pursed her pretty lips re
provingly.
"Sometimes you seem like a big,
overgrown• cub, Don you do, really.
Mr. Janeway is a perfect stranger to
me—"
"Blanche. has been writing to you
for a month to come and meet her
brother. Don't I know?"
"Well—I'm going," smiled Suzanne.
"And you may do Just what you please
about It."
"May I?" Don asked grimly, with
a swift safe glance at her." I'll re
"Well—I'm Going."
mind you of that when you come
back."
"Don't be too rash, or maybe 1
won't come back."
"Ah, Sue, don't say that?"
But Suzanne merely laughed, and
rose from the deep arm chair. She
knew perfectly well how charming she
was, and how she held Don Hamilton's
heart on her own pink palm. And the
very surety had begun to bore her. It
had been unfortunate, their falling in
love so soon, at the beginning of the
summer season, and now at early fall.
It seemed an old story.
Blanche had succeeded In arousing
her curiosity over her wonderful ex
plorer brother. Don had never ex
plored any unknown territory except
her own heart. She would go down
to Tressac Island and see this celeb
rity, and witheut Don. And she went
The whole island was owned by the
Janeways. It lay like a beautiful
green emerald far out In the lake. Aft
er the excitement and restless life at
the seashore resort Suzanne found it
folding a spell of enchantment about
her, the peace and dreamy langor that
hung over the entire place.
It was the fifth day. She had writ
ten one letter to Don—one only. Was
not love on a furlough? And not a
word had she heard in reply. It was
queer of Don to act that way. He had
no perspective on life, she told her
(elf. Carl Janeway was keen on per
spectives.
"We can never hold the reality in
our grasp, try as we will," he told
her. "Do we not ever reach for the
dream?"
"I suppose we do," Suzanne assent
ed, faintly, but she remembered un
easily how tangible had been the real
ization of Don's dream. She did not
meet Jaheway's glance. They were
lust landing after the dally sunset
canoe trip. She watched him now,
as he lifted the canoe as easily as an
Indian guide. He was like an Indian,
too, In his tall, lithe build, black hair,
ud odd, dark eyea that never seemed
to close. Blanche had said he was In
feresting. Suzanne found him more
than that. Vaguely, he fascinated her.
She loved to sit in the canoe, gath
ering water lilies on a lake that had
turned to sold and amethyst and ruhy
fflwssl!8!
Wm%V
don't mind, do you? It's
only to—to test our feelings, Don.
Don't you understand? I'm going with
the Janeways for a week, and you
may stay hero and fish or sail do
Just what you like."
"So generous of you," murmured
Don.
"Why not? I want you to be hap
py."
"Yes, you do? You know I can't be
happy- without you."
"We don't know for sure, yet." Su
zanne was very firm, but gentle. She
felt sorry for Don, but when it came
to a serious Question like this, she felt
It far better to put it to the test. "II
Isn't as if we were breaking the en
gagement, Don, dear. It's Just a sort
of furlough, don't you see? We'll kees
It a secret and both be free to do as we
please.
"Which mean3 you'll trot all ovei
Tressac Island with Carl Janeway."
"You are at perfect liberty to do the
came with any girl here."
"But that's the ruh, Sue. You know
I don't give a rap about any other
girl here, and you want a chance to
try out Janeway."
red under the sunset splendor, urn
ening to his tales of a world-wide
quest. That was what he called it, a
quest after fortune. Blanche had tak
en pains to tell her he had found it.
"When are you leaving Tressac,
Gray Eyes," he asked suddenly.
"Saturday."
She waited while he hid the canoe
under the trees. It was twilight now.
A faint breeze etole over the lake,
perfume laden. Up at the lodge they
were lighting the long Chinese lan
terns around the porch. And sud
denly, without warning, Janeway's
arms closed about her.
"But you will not go—not now. You
know the same as I do that this is the
end of the quest."
Swiftly, recklessly, Suzanne's palm
struck out and cuffed the famous ex
plorer's nearest ear even while she
evaded his lips. And then, picking up
her skirt, she ran straight for the
shelter of the lantern's glow.
"I'm going tomorrow, Blanche," she
exclaimed, finding her hostess alone
there.
"Oh, so soon, dear why? Here's
a letter for you, anyway. From the
shore, too!"
Suzanne read it through once,'
twice. Every word sank deep into
her conscience. It was from Don.
"I think you had better stay longer.
I am going up to Canada with the
Wheatons in their car. The day you
left I took a wrong header in diving
and struck my shoulder. Lucky it
wasn't the neck, eh? Have been laid
up ever since. Head grazed a rock,
too."
"Blanche, I am going now, tonight
Don's badly hurt. I'm sorry, but I
must go."
"Don?"
Then Suzanne raised her head and
for the first time publicly announced
her engagement. Back there under
the pines, when another man's arms
had closed about her, she had found
out what Don Hamilton's love meant
to her.
"So you see I must go," she added,
hurriedly. "Aunt Isabel is there at
the hotel, but he will want me. And
—and—I don't want him to try to go
on this motor trip."
"But I thought you liked Carl, dear?"
"Did you?" Suzanne laid her arms
around the- other girl's shoulders.
"Blanche, you know what funny peo
ple we women are, don't you? I didn't
know until tonight which one I cared
for, but now I do, and I want to get
back to Don Just as soon as the boat
will take me."
"There's a train at 8:18 and you can
catch the ferry over in 15 minutes.
Don't talk, Sue, Just rush. I know how
you feel."
Don Hamilton opened his eyes wide
ly at the vision that stood by his ham
mock beside Aunt Isabel's portly one.
It was Suzanne, a long motoring cloak
thrown back, showing her still in her
brown khaki suit.
"Don't hug him too hard, child.. He's
all bandaged," protested Aunt Isabel,
but Don did not mind the pain. He
only heard her voice In his ear.
(Copyright, 1912, by Associated Literary
Press.)
SOURCE OF HIS INSPIRATION
Not From Qreat Singer In Naples, but
From Phonograph Came the Fa
mous Tune.
Once there was to be a Salamis that
should make it doubtful, when the
name was heard, whether it was the
mother city that was meant or its
daughter In another land. So today
when an Italian boy or girl appears In
Boston schools, it is uncertain wheth
er the child halls from the Italy o!
the Caesars or from "Little Italy"
down round North Square. The au
thor of "Panama," a recent book re
lating to the isthmus, found the same
question arising in the Canal Zone.
While we were stuck on a mud
bank, fighting mosquitoes, an incident
occurred that ilustrates how pervers
ive is progress. One of the deck
hands who looked like an Italian was
enlivening his Job by stitching a patch
on a pair of overalls by singing the
duke's song from "Rlgoletto." And
he sang it well. He had a rich bary
tone. His voice evidently had not
been trained, but he sang true. Sit
ting there on a dry-goods case, beat
ing time against it with his bare heels,
he threw into his singing a large
measure of the airy nonchalance, the
very spirit of the song, 'that is so
often lacking in the performance ot
professionals.
"Now listen to that," the captain
said. "That's the real Latin for you.
Music born in him. I don't suppose
he can read or write. But once, when
he was a little shaver, back in Italy,
his father took him to the opera In
Naples, and he heard some great art
1st sing that. And he remembers it
still sings it down here in the Jun
gle, without any accompaniment but
his heels, a lot better than an Eng
lish or an American university man
could sing it with an orchestra."
"Let's get him to tell us about it,"
I suggested.
The captain called him up, and ask
ed him where he was born.
"New York," he said.
"Mulberry street?" I asked.
"Sure."
"Where did you learn that song?"
"Oh, that? That's a Caruso song. 1
learned it out of a phonograph."—
Youth's Companion.
One of Nature's Freaks.
The village of Villarlmboud, Swit
zerland, were awakened during a
thunderstorm one night recently by
the violent pealing of the church bells.
Going out, they found part of the
church had been wrecked by light
ning. The bells, however, were till
In position and, whether owing to an
electric current or a fitful wind, they
continued to ring till daybreak.
FATHER'S SCALES AN
AID TO UTTLE CUPID
How the Housekeeper Success-!
fully Engineered Love Affair.
By J. T. GRfeENLEAF.
"Did you get any satisfaction about
our marriage out of father this morn-j
ing, Paul?" Brownie Weston asked
her lover aB they were pacing the
broad piazza of the Weston home in
the April dusk.
"Yes and no," answered the young
man. "He said: 'When I'm in danger
of going to Jail on account of my'
sharp practices or some woman ropes
me into marrying her, you may have
Brownie.'"
"That's father all over," she
laughed. "How he does enjoy a war
)f wits, especially with you! Let's
think about It, for I don't believe it's
i' wholly idle speech. Tell me some
thing else that has happened today
vlth you."
"Absolutely a gray blank In every
espect. We've been hauling potatoes
10 the car for him to ship—but yes,
here was one little thing that was in
ieresting. Widow Ailcins brought
!wo bushels of the tubers, and when
weighed the outfit again it fell
thort 60 pounds, showing one bushel
inly."
"That's queer," the girl flashed.
'What did you do?"
"Registered it for two bushels and
[ave her a credit slip accordingly."
"Then his scales are wrong,"
irownie cried.
"If they are, he doesn't know it.
tie's the most obstinate, cantanker
lur, old—"
"Sh—sh—" the girl ordered, lay
ng a slim, brown hand over the
farmer's mouth, "you mustn't speak
that derogatory way of your future
father-in-law!"
"A—a—mighty long way In the fu
:ure," sputtered Paul, getting the ob
struction to free sueech in his hand
is he went on "but even then he's
honest and square."
"I'm glad you think so, but I know
tilm better than you do, and there's
more in it than shows," she pursued.
"Tomorrow, every load you bring
:o him, you weigh at home and then
"Your—Your Scales, Mr. Weston."
weigh back the crates on your own
scales and tell me about It when you
come over in the evening."
"That's silly, darling," Paul de
clared. "If there's an inaccuracy he
doesn't know it, and if it should turn
put that he does, you and I couldn't
catch him. I know there isn't. He's
honest."
"You mind me, Paulsip," the daugh
ter of Hiram Weston ordered, "for
there's something doing, I know."
This reminder of Weston's own spirit
was enforced by something that
topped the young man's mouth.
The following morning a solid bit
pf humanity, Hannah Arbuthnot,
queenly, even in her dark blue calico
dress said to Brownie:
"What's the matter with my
baby?"
"Nothing new, dearie," replied the
girl. "Just the old story—father won't
let me marry Paul. He keps Jolly
ing us along. You know what a dear,
trying mischievous old angel he is!"
"What's he done now?" asked the
bousekeper, hitching her portly self
up on the broad kitchen table and
gathering Brownie in her strong
arms.
A few words told the latest devel
opments and then Hannah solilo
quized:
"He said that, did he? You leave
bim to me. We'll see what your old
maid foster-mother can do for her
baby. He wanted to marry me once,
you know."
"When Weston drove in, tired, wet
and muddy, that evening, Hannah
caught a lantern and slipped out to
the barn, saying as she closed the
door:
"You give him his supper, little
girl."
Toward the end of the satisfying
meal, Weston remarked with his eyes
taking in the beauty of the girl:
"You remind me so much of your
mother. Brownie!"
"That's a great compliment, father,
for they say she was a handsome
woman."
"She certainly was," he agreed
"but what's Hannah up to, taking
csre of old Kitty for me and all? She
hasn't heard of my proposition to
that slow, good boy lover of yours,
has she?"
«,*r ?,'"
TT
W
THE IRISH STANDARD, SATURDAY, AUGUST 17, 1912.
"What would she try to do if she
had?"
"She might think I'd ask her to
marry me, especially if you two got
your heads together to beat an old
man," he chuckled.
"But I'll never do that twice to the
same woman!"
A ilght step on the porch took the
girl to the door, and Paul waB ush
erd into the parlor.
"Well, what about the weights?"
asked the little lady at once.
"Each load was about 60 pounds
short but he don't know it, I'm
sure," was the report.
"All right," she responded, with
her eyes dancing with mischief. "I'll,
call him in and you tell him."
"I? I? Tell your father! I'd!
rather face a locomotive!" he ex-j
claimed.
"But don't you think he ought to
know it?"
"Why—yes. He certainly—" he
stammered, as she called out through
"I—I thought you ought to know
it, Blr," Paul babbited. Then he told
his story." J,
"But I'm sure you didn't know It,"
he added.
,J
.'4
"And ypu and ]Brownie aren't in
tending .to use it "in, response to my
proposition of yesterday?"
"Oh, no, sir. That'wouldn't be fair
unless you knew it. You're honest,
sir."
"Well, sir, I did know it," said
Weston, handing Erownie the round,
iron disk that represents 300 pounds
as a weight. "Turn it over, Kitten.
See that little wad of lead. That
made the overweight that Paul
found. I used it on his own outfit
and the widow's, to see how far he
was watching his own Interest."
"Then inay I have Brownie?"
gasped Paul.
"Not much," cried Weston, "I'm In
no danger of going to Jail for sharp
practices, am I?"
"May I say a word or two?" de
murely asked Hannah.
"Sure," assented Weston, "I'm In
the hands of the Philistines, but I'm
too much for the whole of you."
"Please read that," said Hannah
passing an old letter to Brownie.
1
the open door into the dining room:
"Father, Paul and I don't agree
about a matter and we want your ad-1
vice. Hannah, you better come,
too!"
"What Is It all about?" Weston
asked, going directly to Paul, who
was as white as tnarble, IIjs and
hands in a tremor. As the reply was
slow in- coming,. there was a second
demand: "Out with It!"
"Your—your—scales. Mr. Weston,
are wrong, .but I. don't—"
"My scales wrong?" the older man
burst out. •'Why you young—you
young—and tight In my own house
After a minute of scanning the
missive the girl said: "This is a
proposal of marriage "'"from Hiram
Weston to Hannah Arbuthnot, dated
six years ago. Its concluding sen
tence provides that the offer holds
good for ten years, as an evidence of
good faith."
Looking Westonv:Bquarely In his
eyes, Hannah declared: "And now I
accept!"
Gathering the refeal figure In his
arms and looking at Paul and
Brownie over the shapely.. shoulder,
Weston cried:
"Roped! By thunder!"
(Copyright, 1912, by Associated Literary
Press.)
N0T HIS TIME FOR REVENGE!
Circumstances Seemed Favorable fo*
the Moment, but the Luck
Would Not Hold.
Aboard the great ship the silence of
despair reigned. She had struck on
an uncharted reef, and, owing to the
heavy sea, the boats had either been
stove in against the ship's side or
swamped in the attempt to lower. A
stalwart passenger stole up to the
captain's side.
"Do you think, sir," he asked, "that
there is the slightest chance of our
being saved?"
"Look here," s:iid the skipper, in
tones of disgust, "that's the Bixth time
you've asked me that question. Why,
you great lubberly brute, I believe
you're the biggest coward aboard!"
"S—sh! No, I'm not," protested the
burly one. "But, look here. You see
that old duffer standing by the rail?
Well, he's my rich uncle, and all my
life I
've had to put up with his cussed
cantankerousness. But If the ship's
going down, and there's no hope, I'd
like time to give him one good, sound
kick to square the little account I
owe him!"
Just then a rescue ship appeared on
the scene and above the joyful shout
the raucous voice of the old man by
the rail was heard, commanding his
dutiful nephew to fetch Ills hot water
bottle from hla water-logged state
•oom.
Carnegie Institute.
The Carnegie institute, Washington,
was founded by Mr. Andrew Carnegie
January 28, 1902, when he gave the
board of trustees the sum of $10,000,
000 in registered bonds, yielding 5 per
cent, annual interest. He stated, in
general terms, that his purpose was
to "found In the city of Washington
an institution which, with the co
operation of Institutions now or here
after established, there or elsewhere,
shall In the broadest and most liberal
manner encourage! investigation, re
search and discovery, show the appli
cation of knowledge to the improve
ment of mankind, land provide such
buildings, laboratories, books and ap
paratus as may be needed." Mr. Car
negie added $2,000,900 to his gift in
IB07.
HNDER APPLE TREE
IN OLD ORCHARD
trespasser Was Not One of the
"Seven Sleepers."
By CATHERINE COOPE.
Joan sped down through the riot
of flowers to the foot of the garden
path there, she stopped to catch her
breath before continuing on through
the hawthorn lanes that led to the
fruit orchard. Her wide garden hat
had slipped from its nest of spun
gold ringlets and her heart beat joy
ously with the pulse of spring.
She stood for a moment poised un
der the old ivy-covered arch that ad
mitted her to the orchard and drew
in long breaths of delight. The great I
gnarled trees were weighted with
blossoms and the air was heavy with
the sweetness of their perfume.
Joan made a swift dart and with
the agility of a squirrel climbed .into
the topmost branches of her favorite
tree.- There sho sighed happily, then
laughed at the shower of pink and
white petals that her Rscent brought
down.
"Now I am monarch of all I sur
vey," she told herself gleefully, and
settled herself in the secure seat the
gardener had made for her.
Because their orchard was only a
sixteenth part of the original orchard
that had been the pride of the one
time Lamberth estate, it was not
walled in, hut merely inclosed by
hawthorn hedges. Joan regretted
that necessity had called for a divi
sion of the property, yet she rejoiced
that the lot which her grandmother
had purchased possessed the most
beautiful tree In the entire orchard.
She gazed out over the vista of
pink and white, and from her high
perch could see the various winding
lanes that divided the properties.
Suddenly she leaned forward, her
eyes focused upon a figure that was
moving about among the private gar
dens.
"lie must be trospassing," was
Joan's mental comment. "I have nev
er seen him before."
She watched him intently, half out
of feminine Interest for a masculine
person and half because of the pe-
"Now I Am Monarch of All I
Survey."
Millar actions of the man. He stood
quite still for moments at a time, np
parently gazing at the wonder of the
orchard, but suddenly ho would dart
toward a specific t.reo and make nu
merous circuits about its base.
Joan began to fear for his sanity
and for her own safety. Certainly
his actions were not those of an
evenly balanced man. She felt rea
sonably sure that neither an insane
nor a sane man would catch sight of
her In her bower of thick foliage, but
her heart beat rapidly.
"You never can tell," she told her
self "what, any man in likely to see."
With considerable trepidation she
watched the man drawing gradually
nearer and nearer to her retreat.
Would ho or would he not. venture
within her grandmother's private or
chard? Joan felt reasonably sure now
that the trespasser was mentally un
balanced.
"Ho is coming In!" Joan caught a
sharp breath and drew up into the
branches of her tre He seemed to
catch sight of the great tree the
moment he stood within the arch
and made straight for it. As he camo
forward, Joan again drew a quick
.breath. The man was undoubtedly
'good to look at and Ills shoulders
were big and broad. He had taken
off his cap and the sun shone on a
head of thick, red-brown lialr. Joan's
.grandmother had a miniature of a
man with Just such a head of hair.
The girl In the tree-top sighed,
partly because she felt a strong de
sire to drop twigs down on the good
looking young fellow whose wander
ings had brought him Into her garden.
"But I do not dare," she told her
self and realized that her fear of the
man had vanished. "I suppose his
eyes are brown," Joan decided. She
leaned forward cautiously and watch
ed him prowling about the foot of the
tree. Suddenly he threw himself down
on the wide bench that encircled the
tree.
"Discovered!" she heard him mut
ter, and peered down to see him draw
a great knife from his pocket. He
brandiished it about and the blood in
Joan's veins stood still. He opened
the evil-looking blade and ran his
finger along 1|. Joan gripped the
branches to keep from tumbling head
long out ot th* tree.
The man was silent for a moment,
then he began very calmly to carve
his Initials in the bark of the tree.
The blood In Joan's veins took up
Its course and she drew a long breath
of relief.
"Rather nervy, however," she com
mented, forgetting that her grand
mother abominated slang.
lshed
hlB
knife to his pocket and caBt a glance
about the orchard. Seeing no one
about, ho threw himself full length on
the soft turf and prepared for a nap.
"1 certainly hope ho Is not one ot
the seven sleepers," Joan thought
petulantly, "my left foot Is already
asleep—Oh-h!" She uttered a half
cry and tried to drag her foot from
the crutch of the branch Into which
she had pressed it.
The young man below blinked his
eyes In the sunlight, then sat bolt up
right. His eyes, blue as the summer
sky, gazed up Into the branches of the
tree as If an apparition had suddenly
appeared.
"My foot 1b caught," cried Joan, ac
cusingly, "and you did it!"
"I!" The man's breathless ejacula
tion brought the color to Joan's
cheeks. Slio frowned.
"Besides," he continued, "you have |!av6n,t
been trespassing for the last half ^aTf
eyes, as if he were glad that he had "V'8
been watched for so long a time. Joan
blushed furiously at herself, then re-
treated behind a mnsk of light fab
rication. "I suppose you were going I
to take some of the apple blossoms
for a wedding or something—so I
kept my eyo on you," sko finished,
lamely.
"Not both eves?" he questioned,
with a merry look. He was suddenly
serious. "But this is not getting'
your foot ojit. of tho branches of my
grandfather's tree." He climbed up
with a quick movement and placed
himself hesido hor before Joan could
gasp Indignantly:
"Your grandfather's tree, Indeed!
It Is my very own grandmother's tree
and she did all her courting under It
on that very branch." Joan Informed
the young man's back, "but she didn't
marry the man."
lie turned about, having extricated
her ankle from tho crutch and gazed
back at her.
"In that case," ho Informed her, "it
was your grandmother who Jilted my
grandfather because he lost all his
money and had to sell the Lambreth
estate."
"She did no such thing," retorted
Joan. "She gazes at his mlnature
every day in this world." She cast a
quick glance nt him. "I know now,"
she exclaimed, "you look exactly like
that miniature."
"My grandfather was very hand
some," laughed young Lambreth
then growing. serious again, he con
tinued: "When he sent me to England
ho told me very particularly to loolt
for tills tree, which he said born the
best apples in the whole orchard, al
so to look closely to see his Initials
carved with those of tho only girl he
ever loved."
"When the estate was cut up Into
building lots," said .Toan, taking up
tho thread of tho story, "rny grand
mother made a bid for this especial
piece because it. had that, tree on It."
"I have carved my initials on it,"
said l.ambreth, "and they look a bit
lonesome." His eyes met her appeal
Ingly.
"Wo will go In now and have tea
and a proper Introduction from my
grandmother, and after that we will
discuss whose Initials would look
well entwined with yours."
"That discussion will bo short.
Come," he said, "give me your hands
—I want, to help you down from the
apple blossoms."
(Copyright, 1912. by Associated Literary
Press.)
WOULD RETAIN ART TREASURE
English Antiquarians Up In Arms at
Americans the famous carved stair-
house, Hlghgate Hill, a line seven-
toenth century mansion, presented, ac
cording to tradition, by Cromwell to
Ills eldest daughter Bridget.
Cromwell house Is a red brick
house faced with stone. A boundary
stone In tho adjoining wall bears the
date of 1614, and this is generally
ncceptod as tho year of Its construc
tion. The house was occupied at one
time by General Ireton, Cromwell's
son-in-law, and it Is suggested that
It formed part of the dowry of
Cromwell's eldest daughter Bridget.
The whole of the Internal ornaments
bear evidence of military occupancy.
Unfortunately the greater portion of
the drawing room celling was de
stroyed by fire nearly a century ago,
but some exquisite woodwork haa
been revealed during recent renova
tion.
The main staircase, which is the
Immediate subject of concern, is of
handsome proportions, and bears at
Its various corners beautifully carved
figures of soldiers of the common
wealth period. The handrail Is of dis
tinctive molding, whilst the balus
trades are rich with cleverly executed
devices emblematic of warfare. Hand
somely carved oak pendants appear
»t Intervals above the staircase.
His Catch.
A man with a fishing pole sat on
the river bank near the Atchison wa
terworks intake. "How many have
you caught?" some -one asked him.
"When I get another I'll have one,"
to recital.-—Kansas Clt*
OPERATION SAVED MIND
MAN LBARN8 HAMK AFTER POUIfc
TEBN BLANK YVAM.
Evidently the young man had fin-1 Condition Due to Attaok of Toughs
carving for he returned his
and Being Shanghaied' so over
Ing Memory of Former Days,
H« Forgets Former Life.
New York.—8. Chandler Rogers,
who wae beaten by toughs, thrown In
to the Hudson river and shanghaied
by a British sailing ship on the night
of May 10, 180T, and who spent the
next fourteen years of his life with
out the slightest recollection of whom
he was or what he had done before
he waa injured, came here from S»
attle the other day to search for hli
sister. His mind was cleared last Oo
tober after surgeons in Seattle bad
removed a fragment of bone that was
preBBlng on his brain.
Rogers, who is now thirty-one yean
old, told his story to a reporter.
"My principal business In life" h«
sand, "now is to find the sister "at
Boen/°[
J"-"1*
,n
a
c,ty at Klghth
8trpet-
annoylng hlni
Prospect of Loss of Crom- Pr)v |deI10e
well Staircase.
lhe
London antiquarians are up in arma ,ho operation was performed, which
against a proposal to sell to wealthy
case in what is known as Cromwell's I
Star.
'3!
16
rea8°n bel'e™
jlour Bridgeport, Ct., and I am going there
A slow smile dawned in the man's
"'norr™-
but I hope not.
After 1 was
cv«rJrthlng
that she Is in
Mrs. Michael Roy who
Br,dSPort,
has Identified, I am
Ph°°K™ph of me as that of
I b^er:_Maybe
mistaken,
derated on in Set tie
I had been doing for four-
,een years was
wlPed
membered
boeu
out and 1
r®*
who I was and what I had
doing before I was hurt In thla
nvenue and Sixteenth
1
remembered that my right
name was 8. Chandler Rogers and
that, my home was in New York, al
though they told me at the Seattle
hospital that I had been known as
George Kelly for many years.
"1 was a newBboy In New York and
later a messenger boy. Once in a
while I got a chance to box In the
aters and made a little money. On
May 1, 1897, I got a day off from my
work and that evening with a friend
and two girls I went to a show. Aft
er the show I took my girl home and
then started for bed, but at Eighth
avenue and Sixteenth street three men
stopped me. It was pretty dark and
I couldn't see their faces. One of
them asked me for a match. I told
him I wasn't a mutch factory, and he
made a pass at me. I tried to hit him
with brass knuckles I was wearing,
but another of tho three slugged me
with a blackjaok.
"When I came to I was trying to
keep afloat In the Hudson, swimming
desperately and nearly blind from the
pain and shock of ray hurts. I man
aged to catch hold of a piece of piling
and screamed for help. That's all I
recall definitely. I have been told by
the doctors that I revealed to them
alter the operation In Seattle that I
was shanghaied that night by a Brit
ish ship, that I was badly hurt by the
mate and that I had all sorts of ad
ventures in the next fourteen years
tinder the name of George Kelly. I
supposo they are right, but I can't re
member what I did as Kelly.
"There's a young woman out In Se
attle who says that I am married to
hor. If that Is true she Is In a mean
sort of position. She married me as
Kelly and I have shed the name and
personally of Kelly forever."
Rogers' Identity was established by
li curious circumstance. As George
Kelly ho was living last October at
Fort Blakely and working in a lum
ber mill. On the evening of Tuesday,
October 10th, Rogers—or Kelly—left
homo for a trip to Mill Town. He
hadn't been feeling well and his wife
was worried about him. After order
ing groceries at. a Port Blakely storo,
he disappeared. Three days later be
was found naked in a forest near Port
Blakely crawling on bis hands and
a a a a
was taken to the
hospltllI ln Sefttti8 an WM
doctors found, unable to speak co
herently or to see. On October 15th,
relfevc(J pres8ure on hls brBl0i re
fitored the poTver o{ BIwech an(J the
nbllIty to BOC M1 wh
,ch
gave hlro
back a]go hlg former Wentlty
HAS A USE FOR OLD MAIDS
John Burns Would Make Untaarrled
Women Take a Poor Law Child
to Board.
London.—Replying to parliamentary
critics of his administration of the
poor law achooU, John Burns, Presi
dent of the Local Government Board,
declared that every old maid in Eng
land who owns more than two cats
or more than one dog should be com
pelled to take a child from the poor
house. He maintained that his policy
of removing the children from the
poorhouse to the care of private fam
11
es had proven markedly successful.
Referring to the children who have
been boarded out Mr. Burns said:
"Increasingly both rich and poor are
adopting poor law children. If I had
my way I would make it oompulsory
(or all women who keep more than two
cats and one dog to have a poor law
child on which to divert some of the
cash and a good deal of the wasted
lentlment which many people put upon
animals to an extent which la absurd."
1,500 Tons of Hay in One Pile.
Wapato, Wash.—The largest pile of
baled hay ever put up on the reserva
tion is to be seen on the Wapato ranch,
two miles northwest of this city. Thla
pile contains 1^18 tons, or lOtMl