Narragansett herald., June 19, 1897, Image 2

About Narragansett herald. (Narragansett Pier, R.I.) 1877-1???

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#+TIS LOVE THAT MAKES THE WORLD
CO ROUND.”
A thousand years ago, or more,
A maiden and a youth
Discovered for themselves anew
An old, living truth;
For t h their love these lovors
foun
. Twas love that made the world go
round,
As gonth.s and maidens had before
A thousand years ago and more.
A thousand years from now, or more,
A youth will know the bliss
Of gazing into eyes that flash
The love-light back to his;
And send the world for many a day
A-spinning ftyly on its way,
A-spinning faster than before,
Another thousand years, or more.
And. Lo;e. hav.e {on ;nd I n.ot fon;ld
*Tis love that makes the world go round?
—Gustav Kobbe, in Harper’s Weekly.
THE END OF IT ALL.
HAT'S the last word, is
it?” It was Bale who
b asked the question. He
TN had screwed his courage
o°%2°« to the sticking point at
last.
“That's the last
word,” said Selina,
‘and to my mind, Mr. Tolley, it’s a
bit of a pity it ever went so far.” °
“As how?” said Bale. He was very
gloomy and quiet, and unlike himself,
and she had ceased to feel afraid of
him.
“In this wise, Mr. Tolley,” she an
swered. ‘‘l never chose your com
pany, and I never liked it. I look
on what you've said to me as a
liberty. And I defy you to say I ever
showed you a sign of encouragement
to it.”
“That’s true enough,” said Bale
gravely, and without touch of irony.
“I'll do you that much credit. You've
made it pretty clear as you disliked me
from the beginning.”
“And that,” the girl retorted, ‘‘is
why I look on what you've said in the
light of a liberty, Mr. Tolley.”
“It won't be repeated,” Bale an
swered. “‘Good night!”
He lingered as if in expectation of
an answer, but the girl turned away
without a word. The garden gate
elicked behind her, and Bale wufi:ft
standing in the roadway.
“Well,” he said to himself, ‘‘it’s
what I looked for, and it fits my
merits.” He pulled a handful of loose
tobacco from one pocket of his jacket
and a pipe from the other. Then,
having stood for a minute or two with
out a movement, he filled his pipe, lit
it, and walked away. ¢
The girl meanwhile had reached the
eottage kitchen. She took a candle
stick from the high chimneypiece, and
set it on the table with an aungry
emphasis. She stirred the waning
fire with the same petulance, and,
having thrust a thin sliver or two of
wood between the bars, she knelt
down before the grate and fanned the
embers with her apron. When they
blazed she drew out one of the sticks
and lit the candle. As the wick be-
gan to burn she looked up and gave a
faint cry at the sight of an unexpected
figure in the room.
““Mother!” she said, with a hand
upon her heart. ‘‘How you frightened
me!”
“‘Hast no cause to be afraid o’ me,
wench,” her mother answered. ‘‘So
Bale's got the sack, has he?”
“Got the sack?”’ Selina echoed.
“No. He was never in my service.”
‘“‘He never got any wages, poor
lad!” said the old woman. *“That’s
another matter, however. In your
service he has been this three year.”
“Well,” returned Selina, ‘‘l never
had any truck with him, and I never
wanted any. And now, if that’s what
be wanted to know, he knows it.”
“Yes,” said the old woman, knitting
away with the same tranquillity, ‘“‘you
let him know it.”
“Why, mother,” cried the girl,
“what would you have me do? Did
you expect me.to say ‘Yes!’ to him?”
“No, my dear. It would ha’ given
me a rare sore heart to hear it. Baut
I've known him since the day he was
born, and I've been sorry for him
many time. He’s a nobody’s child,
poor Bale is. He was bred on charity,
and he was made to feel it. He’s gone
wrong, my dear, like a good many
more, because he'd hardly ever the
chance to go right; but there was the
wmakin's of a fine man in him. You
was quite right to say him nay, but 1
eould wish as you'd been gentle with
him.”
Selina lit a second candle and sa
down beside it with her sewing.
“‘His father was a travelin’ conjur
or,” said the old woman, after a long
pause. ‘I saw him once alive, and a
tiner figure of a man I never saw. I
helped to lay him out, poor fellow,
that same night. He broke his back
bone with a cannon ball doin’ some
juggler’s trick with it. They said at
the time he was in liquor, and he’d no
right to do a dangerous thing like
that at such a time. He'd built a bit
of a tent across the road there on the
waste ground, and there was the wife
a-waiting her confinement. The child
wasn't born half an hour when some
blunderin’ idiot told her the news.
That killed the mother. Then poor
Tolley's wife took in the child and
kept it, and we all helped a bit; and
he growed up to be called Tolley. And
as if he hadn’t had misfortune enough
to begin life with, old Tolley must
needs go an’ christen the poor little
creetur’ by his own name of Balaam,
as 'd been a laughing stock for the
whole o’ Castle Barfield for 'ears an’
‘ears. He learned himself to read an’
write without any help as iver I heerd
on. He was pnt to work at the pit
bank bg the time he was eight 'ears
old, and he lerned himself the engine
drivin’ by looking at the engine an’
;::.chin' the chaps at work at it. Poor
‘!"
A bright drop or two fell from the
girl's eyes and glistened on the stuff
she was sewing.
In the meantime, Bale, the rejected,
had walked down into the valley, had
lingered for a while at the forge gates
to stare in at the white-hot, half-naked
figures that dragged the bloom from
the surface, and ran it on its iron
trolley to the steam-hammer, and had
waited to see it beaten from its incan
descent heat to a dull red giow.
“It takes good stuff to abide that
kind of handling,” said Bale. ‘‘The
good stuff’s the better for it. But it's
nonsekryiniitonshg. As a matter
of fact, you can’t have the good stuff
without it, but it's a pity to treat all
yorts alike.™
He was making a parable of the
matter in his own mind, and he walked
on thinking of it in a sore-hearted and
rather empty-headed fashion. He
passed the frowsy town and came out
on the road to Quarrymoor, with its
almost instant hint of country odors
in the darkemed air. It was late
spring weather, almost summer, and
the smoke veil hung high and thin.
The stars shone through it vaguely,
and a dew was falling. He walked on
for an hour, clean into the country,
not knowing or caring where his feet
led him, and suddenly he was aware
that the moon had risen, broad and
full, and that a nightingale was sing
ing.
“Why, Bale, old lad!” a cheery
voice called out. ‘“What brings you
here?” |
“There’s a nightingale in the copice
yonder,” said Bale. “Listen!”
They kept silence for a minute, and
the bird’s song, which had been
checked at the sound of the footsteps,
began again. The new-comer fidgetted
a liftle, and after a minute or two said:
“It’s a pretty music enough. But
who’d ha’ thought of your caring for
it, Bale? Going home again?”
““Yes,” said Bale. ‘At least—l
don’t know about home. I shall drop
in at the Sir Ferdinand.”
“Ah!” cried the other,"striding on
again with Bale at his side, “I should
that was more in your line.
“Well, yes,” said Bale, ‘I suppose
it is. Shall we set ourselves to walk
toward a glass?”
“Why, no,” said his companion.
“Not to-night. I've better work on
hand. You've always been a trust
worthy sort of chap in a way, Bale.
You can keep a secret?”
“T’ve kept one or two,” Bale ans
wered.
“Why,” said the other. “The
secret’s this, Bale. I'm going to get
married.”
“Oh!” said Bale. “You’ve squared
the old lady, have you?”
“Yes. I've squared the old lady,
and I'm off now to the top of Hill Road,
my lad, to carry the news to the young
’nn.,’
““The young lady?” said Bale.
“The young lady,” said his com
panion. ‘‘She’s been rare and down
hearted this six months past about the
old woman’s opposition. She’ll cheer
‘up above a bit when I break the news
‘to her. And look here, Bale, old lad.
You and me have always had a liking
one for another. There’s a bit of a
difference in our stations in life, but
I've never made a difference on that
account. Have I, now? Come! Have
I?n
“No,” cried Bale; ‘‘you never have.”
““When a man’s married,” said the
other, ‘“he’s got to let his wife have
something of a say about the company
he keeps. Now, sometimes you are a
most extraordinary racketty chap, Bale.
You know you are. Selina’s got a bit
of a down on you, old lad.”
“Don’t you trouble about me,
George,” said Bale. “I know what
Miss Rice thinks about me, and I know
what I think about Miss Rice. We're
never likely to trouble each other.”
“Why?"” said the lucky lover, check
ing his walk suddenly and facing
round. ‘“What do you think about
Miss Rice?”
“Oh!" cried Bale, ‘“‘don’t let’s have
any misunderstanding. I've the very
highest opinion of Miss Rice. She’s
made up her mind that I'm a wastrel,
and she’s let me see her opinion. She’s
quite right, George—quite right. 1
am a wastrel. I'm no fit society for
her, and if, as a married woman, she
makes up her mind as®’'m no fit com
panion for her husband, why, all I say
is, her will be done. I shall never
think the worse of her. It'sa woman’s
‘business to keep her own man straight.
‘Well, here’s the Sir Ferdinand. Good
}night, George, and good luck.”
_ *“Not yet,” returned George. ““We
‘haven’t got to the bottom of what I
‘wanted. Try and be a bit steady, Bale.
‘That’ll bring Sefina round; and I'd like
to see an old chum at the fireside now
land then. I don’t want to lose you,
Bala™
“Oh, well! We’'ll talk o’ that an
other time. Neither Miss Rice, as she
is, nor Mrs. Truman, as she will be,
wants me about her. Good night,
George. We shall meet to-morrow.”
How Bale Tolley, who had gone to
he bad this three years, went head-
ong to the worse from that evening
'orward, is not worth telling, aqd yet
was told in a thousand households.
There was good choice of blackguard
society in the neighborhood for any
man who cared to seek it. Bale found
the worse, and play?d the uncrowned
king among it. His' name grew to be
a byword. Anxious parents warned
their sons against him. Only the old
woman who had sometimes ‘‘moth
ered” him in his lonely and miserable
childhood had ever a sympathetic
thought about him.
“Poor Bale!” she would say to her
self, for she hardly dared say it to an
‘other, Bale was so flagrantly a sinner.
“‘He’s got the very look of his father on
him. It might be printed on his back
and be no plainer reading. Ruined
dare-devil. It's wrote large all over
him. But he’s a beauntiful figure of a
man to look at yet, an’ if iver a child’s
heart was i’ the right place, that child’s
was when he was a child.”
George Truman and Selina Rice
were cried in church, but of this Bale
knew nothing, for he did not mix with
church-going people. But George and
Selina were married, and that fact
came to his hearing. Except Selina
and her mother and Bale himself, no
soul had an idea that it concerned him
in the least.
The married pair took up residence
in their own house after a three days’
trip, and George Truman went back to
the office of the mining engineer who
employed him. Bale drove his engines
at the mine, the Three Crowns Yard;
and a year went by. Then the two
men met again, Bale in his laboring
grime at the engines, and George in
his more respectable working gear.
‘““Hallo, Bale, old lad,” sail the
lucky man, “how art? I've come to
have a business look at thir 35.”
“Going down?” asked Bale.
George nodded and looked about
him, rather evading Bale's eye than
not, said an indifferent thing or two
about the weather and so on, and
went his way.
“Ting!” said the little bell. Bale
handled his levers, and watched the
dial face.
“I could smash him like an egg,”
said Bale, ‘‘and not a living creature
would think it was anything but an ac
cident.”
George's mind was in his work, and
he had no guess of what was passing
in thoughts of the man who at the in
stant controlled his destinies. The
descending skip swung to its stopping
place like a feather. The married man
stepped out and made lis way along
the workings in pursuit of his own busi
ness. The bachelor above ground
folded his smeared arms across his
i chest, planted his back against an iron
upright which ran from floor to ceiling,
and pulled at his pipe, awaiting the
next signal.
“Here, you!” he shouted to the boy
who passed the door. ‘“Whatdo you
mean by letting all this cotton-waste
lie about here? Clear it out.”
s¢Allright, gaffer,” said the boy. “In
a minute.”
“Ting!” said the little bell. Bale
set down his pipe, and took the levers.
The pipe fell over. When his im
mediate task was finished he looked
for it, and could not find it. He raked
the cotton-waste here and there with
his foot. No pipe. Bale cursed a lit
tle to relieve his feelings. ‘“Ting!”
said the little bell, and he went back
to his work. He swung the skip up,
the careful eye seeking the dial every
now and then. Being free once more,
‘he began his search again. He kicked
the oily waste savagely, and all at once,
as if it had been a living thing, a flame
broke out at him. Heraced swiftly to
the door and shouted “Fire!” *Ting!
ting! ting! ting-a-lingle-ling-ling-ling!”
The little bell was mad.
“‘Shaft afire!” roared a voice from
the side of the distant downcast.
“My God!” said Bale, and dashing
back to the engine house, he fought
wildly with the growing flames. He
stamped out the blazing waste, and
‘turned again to his levers. Round
spun the shining wheels. Smooth and
steady went piston and crank, round
‘crept the hand on thedial. He looked
‘behind him and the floor was smoul
dering.
“Fire here!” he shouted. ‘‘Engine
house afire!”
“Ting!” said the little bell. There
were a hundred and fifty men below,
and he was their one helper. He
obeyed the bell, and then rushedonce
more into the open, trumpetting with
all his langs.
““Help here! Help! Engine house
afire!” : -
“Ting!” said the bell. The floor was l
crumbling with flame, and the partition
wall had caught. It was built of thin
wood, and was dryer than tinder. The
fire raged, and he was back at his lev
ers in the midst of it—scorched, '
choked, blinded. Then help came with
a roarof voices. “Ting!” said the |
inexorablebell. He held on to his post, |
fighting against death. Outside, men, ’
formed in line, passed buckets from l
hand to hand, and the contents being |
dashed upon the flames filled the room |
with secalding steam. He could not ‘
see the dial any longer, but he worked
by instinct, and the instinet never be
trayed him once. “Ting!” and the
first stage of the cage was filled with
rescued men. ““Ting!” and the sec
ond stage was filled. “Ting!” and
the third stage was filled. Then he
tore her up like fire, checked her, ?
coaxed her, stopped her to a foot.
“Ting” and “Ting” and ‘Ting” and
the three stages were empty, and that
batch of thirty was back to life again.
Then he sent her down like a stone,
and lived along the plunge in his own
mind until he felt she should be there.
Instinet proved true again by the
bell’s voice.
His body was in hell, but his soul
leaped with a passionate intoxication
of revolt and mastery to defy its pains.
The men outside dashed water on his
burning clothes. They howled ap
plause at him. Some among them
wept as they cheered, and one went
shrieking, with both hands writhing
in the air, as if he himself were tor
tured.
It was all done at last, 'and there
went up a cry of triumph terrible to
hear. Bale reached the open air
charred, blackened, scarce human
to look at, and as he fell into the
nearest comrade’s arms the roof of the
engine house dropped in. They car
riedl him to the mearest cottage, and
all that could be done for him was
done. He was conscious to the end,
and he made shift to ask for Selina
She came, her mother with her.
“I wanted you to know,” said Bale.
T could’t ha’ gone through with it if
your George hadn’t been down.”
Selina stopped and kissed him, her
tears raining on his face.
“There, there!” said Bale. ‘‘That’s
the end of it all.”
God has made nothing stranger
than man, to be blackguard and hero,
devil and angel in a breath.—New
York Journal.
WISE WORDS.
Joking often loses a friend, and
never gains an eneiay.
They that know no evil will suspect
none.—Ben Jonson.
The retrospect of life swarms with
lost opportunities.—Sir H. Taylor.
The first step of knowledge is to
know that we are ignorant.—Cecil.
No communications can exhaust
genius; no gifts impoverish charity.—
Lavater.
Neither a borrower nor a lender be;
for loan oft loses bothitself and friend.
——Shakspeare.
The most utterly lost of all days, is
that in which you have not once
laughed. —Crawford.
The way to procure insults 1s to
submit to them—a man meets with no
more respect than he exacts.-—Hazlitt.
The best portion of a good man’s
life is his little, nameless, unremem
bered acts of kindness and of love.—
Wordsworth.
The darkest hour in the history of
any young man is when he sits down
to study how to get money without
honestly earning it.—Horace Greeley.
Whatever there is of greatness in the
United States, ar indeed in any other
country, is due to labor. The laborer
is the author of all greatness and
wealth. Without labor there would
be no government, and no leading
class, and nothing to preserve.—U. S.
Grant.
Climbing High Altitudes.
All perscns who have climbed, great
heights are aware that respiration be
comes more or less difficult, the heart
beats either very irregulariy or with
yreat rapidity, and nausea, exhaustion
and other unpleasant sensations are
experienced. Just what is the highest
limit to which man can ascend and
live has frequently been questioned.
A scientist reached 15,000 feet about
sea level without great trouble. The
idea suggested itself—could he not
create a rarefied atmosphere by a me
chanical process? He prepared a very
large pneumatic air chamber and
‘rigged it with all the necessary appli
isnoel. He shut himself in, then the
air was rarefied to a degree which
would probably be found at the height
of 24,000 feet above sea level, then he
became so distressed that the experi
ment had to stop. As Mt. Everest is
a mile higher than this simulated alti
tude, we may naturally conclude that
unless there are means provided for
assisting respiration, feet will never
tread the height on this globe.
A New Use for Bicycles.
Even street railway companies are
now finding use for the bicycle. In
St. Louis one of the trolley companies
intends to’ organize a bicycle corps
among its repair men. Their duty
will be to look after minor repairs
that require little time and few tools,
but may be scattered over consider
able distances. Experiments have
shown that the method is expeditious
and satisfactory.
WONDERS OF THE WHEEL
FICHTINC MOCK DUELS ON BICY
CLES A NEW SPORT IN EUROPE.
It Demands Expert Riding—Combatants
Must Be Absolute Masters of the
Wheel to Win Battles—A Father and
Five Sons Who Ride on One Wheel.
Wheelmen of England and France
now fight mock duels on bicycles. It
is not a mere imitation, but a gennine
contest with the foils, which ecalls for
as much skill as the combats which
took place on foot. The first qualifi
cation for a duellist of this sort is to
MR. VOM SCHEIDT AND HIS FIVE BOYS ON A BICYCLE.
be an expert cyclist. Whoever at
tempts one of these combats on wheels
must be able to perfectly manage his
machine without the assistance of his
hands. One of the first principles of
exercise with the foils is to keep con
stant watch on one’s opponent. The
slightest negligence of this sort may
give a fencer tremendous advantage.
If his wheel distracts his mind from
the object he is trying to attain he
gives his opponent just so much ad
vantage which he otherwise would not
have. So what it really amounts to
is that the man who wishes to fight his
duel on a bicycle must leave the man
agement of his wheel to his feet and
knees. »
The combatants in a mock duel of
this nature are dressed in the ordinary
outing costume of the cyclist. Their
hands are clothed in gauntlets. The
stockings worn are usually faced with
a very fine quality of chamois skins.
The shoes are of the regulation bicycle
fashion, with rubber soles.
On the inner side of the trousers,
just above the point where the leggings
and the bottoms of the trousers meet,
is a round piece of rubber about an
eighth of an inch thick and seven and
one-half inches in circumference. The
object of this rubber is to give the
rider a firm pressure upon the ma
chine, just as the rubber soles of his
shoes act as a safeguard against his
feet slipping on the pedals.
Each duelist wears a mask which
has over each eye a projection of wire,
similar in form to a small inverted
tea cup. This gives absolute freedom
of vision.
A short time azo I was fortunate
enough to witness a contest with foils
between two of the most expert riders
in the United Kingdom. DBoth were
mounted on American wheels, twenty
eight pounds each. - The wheels were
of what is called the new folding pat
tern. That is, the frame is so con
structed that it is possible to fold the
wheels so that they come side by side,
the centre of the frame working on a
hinge. It is claimed that a wheel of
this sort enables the rider to turn more
quickly, and thus forms the best pos
sible wheel for the mock duellist.
Each man took up a position about
fifteen feet from his antagonist. At a
given signal both mounted their
steeds of steel and slowly circled about
one another, just as we have seen men
fighting with knives seek an open
ing in which to make an attack.
The left hand rests lightly on the
handle bar. The right hand grasps
firmly the foil, held at an angle of forty
five degrees. Slowly the two circle
about, until suddenly one ridder
dashes forward as if from a catapult;
there is a clash, clash of steel, and
the first passes are over. The circling
movement is contined by both men,
who grow more and more wary as the
circle narrows.
“Look out!” calls the director.
“Gentlemen, no foul, if you please.”
FIGHTING DUELS ON BICYCLES—A NEW SPORT IN EUROPE. "
This makes the duellist more wary,
for a foul by either means the loss of
the honor of the cor Vjet. |
“ *Ware!” cries one of the combdt
ants, and a thrust is aimed at his op
ponent’s helmet with a force that
would seem sufficient to throw him
from the saddle. He sustains the
shock gallantly, and the sparks fly as
the foils beat upon one another.
Neither cyelist has lost his equili
brium for a moment. The bicycles
seemn almost endowed with life.
The riders evidently have forgotten
that they are not on steeds of flesh
and blood. 7
Parry and thrust, clever defence,
blows that seem powerful enough to
cleave the mask in twain—all these oc
cur with lightning-like rapidity.
Then like a flash of light one cyclist
whirls and circles about the other,
and before the latter can fairly place
himself in a position of defence the
pore active wheelman has touched his
antagonist over the heart wita the but
ton that protects the vpoint of his
weapon. The cyclist who is thus
touched is forced to dismount his
wheel, and his opponent has scored a
point. This is the method that is
generally followed, and, as may be
“seen from the description given, is ex
citing in the extreme.
One interesting result in France is
tifht it is likely to become something
more serious than mere pastime.
Duelling is the vogue there. At the
same time a duel about which there is
a novelty, is something to be culti
vated. Therefore, the mock duel on
wheels. which the fencing exercise is
called, has suggested to the vplatile
Frenchman a chance to furnish wheel
men with a method of his own for re
senting insult.
SIX ON ONE BICYCLE.
How a Fond Buffalo Father Takes His
Five Sons Wheeling.
Mr. Vom Scheidt, of Buffalo, has
five boys and a bicyecle. As the bicycle
is an ordinary wheel intended for the
use of one person, and as the boys are
all of them too small to stride the
paternal machine, it is difficult at drst
to imagine the connection between Mr.
Vom Scheidt’'s six possessions. A
glance at the illustration, which we
reproduce from the columns of the
Buffalo Express, will, however, show
that there is something in common to
all, and that there is something very
vital tothe enjoyment of the Vom
Scheidt youngsters.
The spectacle of Mr. Vom Scheidt
and his family enjoying a spin upon his
bicycle must be edifying indeed,espec
ially when the family tackle a sharp
hill on a warm day. At this distance
l from Buffalo, says the New York Her
ald, we can almost hear the paternal
muscles groan and see great drops of
perspiration rolling down the Vom
Scheidt brow.
The boy in front of the family group
is twelve years old, and so is the boy
in the rear. No. 2on the wheel is
the latest Vom Scheidt to enter this
world of sin and wheeling. He is
about six months old. The boy seated
just behind the baby is five years old.
The next is seven.
- Mr. Vom Scheidt is as muscular as
he is kind hearted. He has wheeled
himself and his five sons hundreds of
A TIPLE AND HIS WHEEL-
CHEIF
miles. He has even taken them on
several occasions to Niagara Falls and
back. It can readily be believed that,
as a contemporary remarks, ‘“This bi
cycle load is the centre of observation
wherever it goes.”
An Indian Chief Who Rides a Wheel.
This Indian chieftain is on his first
visit to San Francisco, and is the guest
of T. H. B. Varney. He is a graduate
of the Carson Indian School, being
now employed by the Government as
an interpreter and naval officer. He
was taught to ride last year by C. C.
Hopkins, and is an excellent bicyelist.
Where Elephants Are Plenty.
Tt has been a common cry of late
years that, with the amount of shoot" i
ing that goes on nowadays in Africa,
the game animals thust, within meas
urable distance of time, become ex
tinet. Some ingenious statisticians |
have harmlessly employed their spare ‘
time in calculating how many years of |
existence are lgft to the African ele
phant as a species, and prophecy its ‘
extinction within the present genera
‘tion. Within the last week I have had
‘two letters from friends who are shoot
‘ing in the interior, one bearing date in
| November, from the northeast, the l
other dated January, from the south
east. The former has ‘“for weeks seen ‘
elephants in family parties every day
and all day; they don’t seem to know
what a rifle is, and, if I wanted, I
might kill a score a day or more.” My
southeastern correspondent combines
sport with trade in ivory, and writes
me that, on his present trip, he has
killed nineteen elephants, besides two
lions and a heavy bag of antelopes and
' other game. He says: ‘“ln the coun
try I have just passed through, ele
phants are in most astonishing num
bers, as also buffalo, and, in fact, all
the animals I have named,” some sev
enteen species. In the locality he re
fers to elephant-shooting has to be
done on foot, and it is such hard work
under the local conditions that the an
imals are tolerably safe. Ido not wish
to promulgate the idea that protective
measures are not necessary—they are
urgently needed in many parts of Af
rica; but it is satisfactory to hear from
reliable sources that there are districts
where the elephant is. plentiful and
likely te continue so.—Lo=dvu Sketch.
FIELDS OF ADVENTURE.
THRILLING . INCIDENTS AND DARING
DEEDS ON LAND AND SEA.
A Savage Jaguar Attacked by a Native Boy
in Costa Rica Armed Only With a
Machete—=Terrible Ride of a Young
Pioneer Mail CTarrier in Montana.
““When you get away from the towns
and more thickly settied parts of Cen
tral America into the forest clearings
you will find that the native houses are
built upon posts well above the ground.
This is in part to protect the dwellers
from dampness in the rainy season and
to keep out repti‘es, but the principal
reason for putting the houses upon
posts is for the safety of the residents
against tigers, the name by which
jaguars are generally called in Central
and South America.”
James Sharpley, now of New York,
was the speaker, and he was telling
some of his experiences in Central
America, where he had traveled as
agent of a rubber-buying firm.
“Those who think lightly of the
courage of the people in these southern
regions might reconsider their opinion
if they had seen the performance of a
boy who acted as attendant, guide, and
porter for me during a three weeks’
trip among the rubber gatherers of
Costa Rica. He was of mixed Indian
and negro blood, an active, intelligent,
good-tempered young fellow, withouta
trace of school education, but perfectly
at home and master of the situation in
the tropical forest. One night we were
stopping at a little settlement called
Las Contreras. I was a guest at the
house ofthe head man, who had as
signed me his best chamber. My boy
Jose—Jose Maximo was his full name
—had sv&ng his hammock from two
posts of the veranda directly in front
ofmy door, which opened upon the
veranda. I was sitting with my host
outside the door at about 8 o’clock in the
evening. It was a clear starlit night,
with a full moon lighting up the clear
ing and the dozen little houses about
the great one where I was, and show
ing the blackness of the dense forest
that hemmed us in on every side. In
his hammock Jose lay smoking cig
arettes, his machete hanging [from a
peg in the post behind him.
““Jose had a dog that accompanied
us in our travels, a big native brute
that he set a great deal by. Like
Central American dogs in general it
never barked, but would growl or
yell or whine on oceasion; and had a
value to us as a watch dog. This dog,
seeking, perhaps, the companionship
of its kind, had wandered from the
house. My host was in the act of tell
ing me that, while there undeniably
were tigers in the forest, they never
ventured near Las Contreras, when
Jose, missing his dog, called it. From
the shadow of a hut.near the edge of
the forest the dog came trotting to
ward its master. There was a clear
space about sixty yards in width for
it to cross, and I was lazily watching
the dog’s moving, tawny form, of a
tint not easy to distinguish, even in
the bright moonlight, against the yel
lowish green of the low tropical plants.
It had got half way across the opening
when from the deep forest shadow
came bounding toward it, precisely as
a rubber ball bounds along on the
ground, a creature vastly larger, that
we did not see until it was almost
upon the dog.
““‘Tigre! Tigre!’ shouted my host,
jumping to his feet. Like a flash Jose
came out of his hammock upon his
feet and seized his machete from the
peg. He had wrapped his grass
woven blanket round his arm aund
leaped to the ground when the jaguar
sprang upon the dog, which had
started to run, but was overtaken in a
jiffy. The weight of the jaguar
crushed the dog to the earth; there
was one yell, shut off half way as the
jaguar’s teeth found its throat; there
was a brief struggle, then the jaguar
seized the dog midway of its back,
lifting it as lightly as a cat would lift
a rat, and turned back toward the
forest just as Jose came up. He was
not in time to strike the jaguar a blow,
but he threw his machete at it, wound
ing the beast in his hindquarters. In
stantly the jaguar turned, dropped the
dog and leaped upon Jose, who was
rushing forward to get hold of his
weapon, which had fallen to the
ground. The shock nearly threw him
down, but he kept his feet, and, pro
tecting his face and throat with the
blanket wrapped around his left arm,
he staggered toward the place where
the machete was lying, the jaguar
clinging to him with its claws as he
went. '
““As soon as I fairly realized what
was taking place—it took some valu
able seconds to do this, the whole
thing came so suddeniy—l doged into
my room where my rifle stood in a
corner. Asl came outon the veranda,
rifle in hand, Jose, stooping to seize
his machete, was forced to the ground,
where he lay on his back with the
jaguar above him still tearing savagely
at the blanket, and trying to get to his
throat: Jose had got hold of his
machete and was using it with his
right hand; but he could only thrust
upward at the jaguar, having no chance
to give the sweeping blows which is
what the machete is made for. I came
within ten paces of them, but the
jaguar paid no attention to me.
‘¢ ‘Lie quiet, Jose, I'm going to
shoot,’ I called to the boy in Spanish,
and fired at the jaguar’s shoulder. The
creature whirled half round as if it
would spring at me, then sank side
wise to the ground, pitching forward
upon its right shoulder, which my
bullet had broken. Jose sprang to his
feet. I did not dare fire again, as he
was in my direct line of aim, but he
was equal now to dealing with the
beast alone. With a blow of his
machete he severed its spine, and a
second siroke cut its head half off, end
ing the fight.
“The jaguar measured eight feet two
inches in length, and was a heavy,
powerful, vicious looking beast. Jose
was badly clawed in the legs by the
j 's hind paws. but he did not re
m“his wounds as serious enough to
prevent our continuing our journey
next day; the principal importance he
attached to the fight seemed to be the
loss of his dog.”
A Mail Carrier’s Terrible Ride.
Some years ago Fort Benton had a
daily mail from Helena. The stage
coach brought it three days of the
week, and on the alternating days the
mail-sack was brought on horseback
orin a light wagon. The wagon was
driven by a young boy, Bob Casey by
name. This boy knew the road per
fectly, and was warmly dressed, and
perhaps his people were not old enough
to the country to know that he counld
be in danger from blizzards. f
One Friday morning, an hour after
Bob had left Sun River Landing for
Benton, a blizzard of the wildest de
scription set in. Inafew moments the
road was obliterated and rendered ex
actly like all the rest of the boundless
plain. Bob had no idea which way he
was going, and decided that his only
chance was to give the horse his head
and let him go where he would. The
mail was small and the wagon light—
and so was Bob—and he had no doubt
the animal would pull through some
where.
But before long the horse was as
hopelessly lostasthe boy. He wandered
and wandered, and found no way out
of the desert. The blizzard increased
in intensity, and as Bob was well
wrapped on his seat, he could do no
better than continue to sit there and
keep the horse going.
This he did throughout the whole
of a dreadful day, that seemed to Bob,
and doubtless to the horse, too, longer
than an ordinary week. At last night
came on; and just at this time Bob
and his horse struck a considerable
‘patch of tall grass, the tops of which
came up through the snow. Here Bob
decided to camp for the night. He
could at least feed the horse with the
grass, though there was no food for
him.
Though the storm still raged with
unabating fury, Bob succeeded in
making a fire by pulling and matting
the tall grass, and got through the
night alive.
In the morning the sun shone
brightly, though the fine, powdery
snow still filled the air. Bob could
not make out where he was; nothing
was plain to him except that he was
far from the road to Benton, and that
not a single familiar object met his
gaze; but he still trusted to the horse
to find the way. Mounting his seat,
cold and very hungry, he gave the
rains to the horse and bade him ‘“‘go
on.”
On he did go,butnot in the right di
rection. The endless march of the day
before was repeated. The weather was
frightfully cold. Hereand there,where
a bunch of tall grass came through the
snow, the horse stopped to browse,and
Bob let him do so as often as he
wished.
Another night came, and another
day, and days and nights after these, f
and still Bob and the horseand wagon |
wandered, getting farther and farther
away from civilizntion all the time;the
horse supporting life by browsingthe
grass, but Bob slowly growing weaker
and freezing,for the weather continued
intensely cold. ‘
Meantime the people of Benton had
started out to search for the missing
boy. The whole region between Sun
River and Benton was thoroughly
searched, but no trace found of either
horse or boy. A week after the disap
pearance the search was abandoned.
The people had no doubt that boy and
horse had perished in the storm, and
been covered up by thedrifting snow.
But valuable letters were in the mail
bag, and ten days after Bob had disap
peared some of the parties interested
in these letters employed Bill Rowe to
go out in search of the bag-—not of
Bob.
Billy went on horseback, and rode
far and wide. Passing over some rising
ground, he thought he perceived a
moving object in a distant coulee, and
went toward it. As he approached he
saw that it was a horse, slowly draw
inga light wagon and that in the
wagon was seated a smali human fig
ure. At length Billy saw that it was
Bob Casey and the mail-wagon.
Bob seemed to have settled down to
sleep; but now and then he would
stfaighten up, grab the reins, and at
tempt to guide the horse, only to drop
back into his seat a moment later ap
parently unconscious.
Rowe overhauled them and shook
the boy. He could get no answer, but
at any rate the boy was alive. Rowe
wrapped him up anew, and started
for Twenty-eight Miles Springs, the
nearest place. Here he gave the boy
stimulants, and then when on to Ben-
At the hotel thespeechless and
almost lifeless boy was placed in a sit
ting posture, with his feetin a tub of
cold water. He could eat nothing, but
light stimulants were forced down his
throat, and in that position he slept
for thirty-six hours, being occasionally
aroused for the stimulants.
He recovered, butit was found
necessary to amputate both his feet.
A big purse was made up for him, and
he was sent Eastto school.
on.
Seven Wolves Bagged by a Youngster.
A son of James Virter had a remark
able experience the other day with a
large she wolf. The boy lives in On
tario Township, Illinois, and is but
fourteen years old. He left home on
horseback, taking and axe and a dog,
thinking that he might find a squirrel
or two in the timber. After he had
gone some distance, the dog charged
toward a hollow log and began barking
furiously, but did not dare enter. The
boy, getting off his horse, kneeled and
peered into the cavity, and saw glar
ing out upen him the fierce eyes of a
large wolf, eround which were six pup
pies. She snapped her teeth vicious
ly. The boy, with rare courage for
one of his age, hastily sharpened some
stakes with his axeand!drovethemover
the entrance to the log, the dog mean
while keeping the wolf inside. After
having imprisoned the animal the boy
mounted his horse, rode quickly home
and returned with a small revolver. He
then, lying prone on the ground, be
gan firing into the log, and did not
cease until he had killed the wolf,
which had made desparate efforts to
get out. The lad killed the pups with
his axe and loaded his victims upon the
horse. He was paid a bounty in Gales
burg on all seven wolves.—St. Louis
Globe-Democrat.
Value of Breathing Properly.
Thousands of people die every year
because they do not know how to
breathe, or knowing how, they do not
fill their lungs as they should. Thin,
pale, sallow people should wrap them
selves thoroughly if the weather is
cool, step out upon an open porch or
stand at an open window and fill the
lungs moderately full, breathing pre
cisely as one does for the most violent
exercise—that is, in short, quick, deep
iixmpirat.iom;, each one occupying mnot
over two seconds. Use the muscles
to expand the lungs and chest, and in
hale all the air possible. If the exer
cise causes pain or giddiness stop at
once. This is the natural consequence
of the action, and does no harm, pro
vided it is not continued. After a few
minutes, when sall unpleasant feeling
hsa passed away, repeat the effort.
This may be done two or threz times
within an hour or so, and should be
followed up day after day at intervals
of from one to several hours. If the
patient is very delicate, three times a
day is enough for a beginning. In a
very short time a marked improvement
will be perceived. Another exercise
with the lungs is to expand the chest
with the muscles to its fullest extent,
then fill the lungs and hold the breath
as long as pessible. This causes a
heavy pressure of air on undeveloped
and defective lung cells, and, after a
time, will open all of the passages of
the lungs and create a condition of
health to which a great many people
are entire strangers.—The Ledger.
The water of the River Tinto, in
Spain, hardens and petrifies the sand
of its bed, and if a stone falls in the
stream and alights upon another in a
few months they unite and become one
stone. Fish canunot live in its waters.
THE MERRY SIDEOF LIFE.
STORIES THAT ARE TOLD BY THE
FUNNY MEN OF THE PRESS.
An Up-to-Date Wooer—Benny's Questione
Made No Sale—One Exception—A Cer
tain Sign—An Assurance—Full Size—A
Criterion—No Difference, Etec., Ete.
“Alas, ’tis true,” said he, ““that I am all un
known to fame; :
No paper g’tint.s my picture and no bard
extols my name.
But proudld I am mentioned in one book;
and if, some day,
You’ve time I wish you'd notice that my
credit ils 0. K.” 5%
One Exception.
Flip—*‘A man should never use big
words.”
- Quip—*““Unless, of course, he has
only little things to say.” —Life.
A Certain Sign.
Friend—‘“What grounds have yom
for believing that your novel is a work
of genius?”
Author—““T'wenty-seven publishers
have refused it.”’—Life.
Made No Sale.
Salesman—“‘“Now, here is a wheel
that has all the latest improvements.”
Tyro—*“They tell me all I want id
confidence. If it has got that, Ithink
I'll take it.”—Boston Transcript.
Benny's Question.
“Papa,” said Benny Bloobum-
S
- “Well, Benny?”
“Do you call your horse a cob be
cause he is so fond of corn?"—Life.
Full Size.
Tommie—*‘‘Auntie, mamma bought
me a pair of gloves to-day.”
Auntie---“*Did she, Tommie? What
are they, kids?”
Tommie—*“No, indeed; they're
men's.”--Harper’s Bazar.
A Criterion.
Drummer—*“That fellow, Lazen
berry, lounging over there, is of very
little account, isn’t he?”
Squam Corners Merchant--*‘Little
account? Why, he’s so worthless that
he’s the most expert whittler in the
village."—Judge.
No Difference.
Voluble Barber—*‘l intend to put a
phonograph in my shop and to run it
constantly for the benefit of my cus
tomers. What do you think of the
idea?”
Crusty—‘‘Humph! I suppose one
talking machine is as good as another.”
—Judge.
Those Puzzling Bicycle Suits.
The policeman rapped loudly at the
door, and when the servant opened it,
said:
“Is Mrs. Swellrig at home?”
““No, but Mr. Swellrig is.”
“Then tell him his wife’s been
knocked senseless in a bicycle col
lision.”—Truth.
Dyspepsia.
Mr. Newwed—“'fihere is no use
talking—ll won't eat any more of your
cooking!”
Mrs. Newwed (tearfully)—‘“And
you—you said—you were willing to die
—die for me!”
“But, madame, there are worse
things than death.”—Life.
An Assurance,
“Of course,” said the man of genius,
““you understand that I devoie myself
exclusively to art in its highest appli
cations.”
““This is right in your line,” replied
Mr. Cumrox, encouragingly. ‘“What
[ want is to have a couple of ceilings
frescoed.” —Washington Star.
The Hot One.
Jay Green (with dignity)—*Tain’t
a-goin’ to call on Widow ( irimm’s
daughter any more, unless the old lady
acts different from the way she done
the last time I went there!”
Josh Medders—‘‘How
Did she get hot about it?”
Jay Green—‘‘No; but I did! She
flung a dipper of sealdin’ water on me
as soon as she saw who it was that was
at the door!”—Puck.
Well, We Should Think Seo.
Mr. Lionel Brough tells an amusing]
story of how he once met a small boy,
in Bradford crying bitterly.
““What &re you crying for, my little
man?” he asked kindly.
“My feyther’s been welting me.”
“Well, I shouldn’t ery like that if
were yon.”’
“Yes, tha would, if thy feyther wer
t’ big drum beater in a factory band.’
—London Tit-Bits.
His Dearest Possession.
Tt was getting late, and still the
venerable ex-United States Senator
lingered in the parlor with the young
people. Evidently something had to
be done.
“I hope, papa,” said his daughter
gently, but firmly, “‘that you will nof
feel offended if I now move a eall of
the house, during which all persons
not entitled to the floor will please re
tire while Charlie and I discuss 1
question of personal privilege.” -
Truth. .
That Was Different.
“Young man,” said the fond father,
“in giving you my daughter d have in.
trusted you with the dearest treasure
of my life.”
The young man was duly impressedl
Then he looked at his watch. ‘‘Really,’
he remarked, “‘I had no idea it was
late. The cars have stopped. Coul
I borrow your wheel to get do
town?” ’ 3
“Young man, I would not trust snfl
body on earth with that wheel.”—ln
dianapolis Journal.
A Merchant’s Trick.
A draft was once presented to ¢
Kansas City merchant for a carload o
goods just in from the East. He (lifi
not have the ready money to meeti
but expected it within a week. No
wanting the paper to go to protest h
coolly wrote a memorandum sayin
“There is an error in the invoi
please correct,” and pinned it to th
draft. A reply came back in due tim
asking him to kindly point out th
error. Instead of doing so he pai
the draft and wrote an answer ssyin}
he found that he was mistaken abo
the error. He therefore gained
week’s time and that’s what he w
playing for.---Kansas City Star.
Eighteen Trout in a Hellow Stump.
During the big fishing frolic of la
week the boys learned many goc
things, but one of the most valuab
was the capacity of a hollow stum;
It was noticed while seining that
great many of the fish would tal
refuge in a hollow cypress stum
When the day was nearly ended the
put the seine around the old stum
and sent Mr. Reamer Hendricks 1
side to investigate. He explored tl
roots and hollow cavities, and hand¢
out eighteen trout that would avers
four or five pounds each. Veril
truth is stranger than fiction,— Tatn:
(Ga.) Journal.
—Washington Star.
was that?