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The Mellette County pioneer. [volume] (Wood, Mellette County, S.D.) 19??-1971, February 16, 1912, Image 6

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Persistent link: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn96090217/1912-02-16/ed-1/seq-6/

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TEM THAT WORKED WELL
Idler Who Had Climbed to Sixth
loor of Apartment Found Scheme
That Worked Smoothly.
llbur C. Phillips, the child weL
worker, tells a story to show how
ematized work will usually bring
desired end.
peddler climbed to the sixth floor
in apartment house in an attempt
jell his wares. The first man he
he insisted should buy some of
poods. Finally he mado himself
i a nuisance that the unfeeling
int of the apartment picked him up
threw him down tho next stairs,
man standing on the fifth floor,
ring the racket, glanced up and
tin the situation. When th© ped
came crashing down to the fifth
r this man picked him up and
iw’ him down the next stairs.
man standing on tho fourth floor
ted the peddler on by throwing
down the next flight. This con
i’d until tho poor peddler finally
led on the first floor with a crash.
See! but they got some system up
*».” ho said ruefully as he picked
self up and walked painfully out
the street.
His Handicap.
foil don't mean to tell me that
Bpish looking little woman is bi.-.
low in iho world did a man with
Laste ever happen to pick out such
rson for a life-partner?’*
I'boy say she is very clever—writes
It of his speeches. I believe she
a School teacher before their
Tinge.”
'<\ir mo Isn’t it to bad?
hk what a place he might have
I if he had married a woman with
e and a family that amounted to
lething back of her.”
Too Original.
Tero.” said the theatrical mana
“this will never do.”
iVhat s tlie matter?” tiie trembling
wright inquired.
l’ou have a bad man in your play
i insidious villain.”
es. But nearly every play has to
a rogue of some kind It it.”
fhat’s all right. But you have
lected to give your rogue the name
Hake. Are you trying to destroy
traditions of the drama?”
Mental Development.
ow are your youngsters doing at
al?”
Inely,” replied Mr. Cumrox; “they
• already progressed far enough
Iscover that my education is rath
eficient."
VERY DECOLLETE.
> \ \
(at the bali) —You’ve given me
shoulder tonight
Bp»s —The other shoulder is no
& Still at th® Foot,
school he was always at the
of his class."
♦fl Well, what about it?"
only he’p earning his llv
as a shoe salesman."
fl Wanted Hla Fee.
,lul did your lawyer friend say
you asked him for his daugh-
refused to answer any question
a retainer."—Satire.
I First Hand Knowledge.
Ifljiero comes my new papa."
hat man? He isn't so many*
■iinw do you know? ’
■lie used to papa."—Judge.
HE 1 Reflection*' > ■ ’ 1
■Siti<n Nillie'a engagement teowj
flht and h\py she looks."
fl Yes; a n/ Rh Mllifht up a
He to i r
B I
B J Bal
"No, lady,” he said, and his grin
broadened in appreciative tribute to
the flushed earnestness of the face up
turned to his. “there’s me, and a boy.”
—Youth’s Companion.
Baby Liked the Tag.
"They have the finest plan up in
Warren.” said a stout lady in a de
partment store; “people who attend re
vival meetings in the tabernacle can
leave their babies in a nursery near
the entrance.”
“How do they keep track of them?"
inquired her companion.
"Easiest, thing in the world," was
the reply. “They tag them.”
"Huh!” exclaimed tho friend, “not
for mine.”
"What is your objection to the
plan?” came the inquiry.
“1 tried that once when Billy Sunday
was in town," was the reply, “and my
baby ate tho tag.”
Wlgson—When your wife caught
you hugging tho chambermaid I sup
pose she was speechless with amaze
ment
Wagson Speechless! Say, you
don’t know my wife.
“A funny thing happened at the ban
quet last night."
"Did somebody quit speaking before
he had made everybody weary?"
“No. A preacher who was called on
for some remarks succeeded In getting
through without telling a story that
had a cussword in it."
“I hear that Mr. and Mrs. Wright
son are Jiving apart. What is the
trouble?"
“The snme trouble that has caused
many another man and woman to sep
arate. He had an idea that sho was
his wife, but it was her belief that he
was merely her husband."
“You know that ballplayer who bad
a glass arm. a weak knee and a game
ankle —the one who only finished lu
live games during the season?"
“Yes; what about him?"
“He's going to work in a stoneyard
through the winter.”
Church —Here’s an advertisement of
a railroad's night trains. It says “You
go to sleep in Philadelphia qnd wako
up in New York.” *
Gotham —Well, I don’t J*. T.Ally
take stock in railroad advertisements,
but I guess that one's true, all right.
"Would you call Wiggins a clever
man?”
“Certainly,” replied Miss Cayenne.
“He Is not intellectual, but he Is won
derfully clever In concealing the fact
from strangers” *
Justifiable Suspicion.
"I guess I must be getting old.”
“Why do you think ao?”
“A pretty girl dropped one of her
gloves on the sidewalk this morning
and 1 permitted another man to bent
me to it.”
Surely Not.
Belle--Don't juu think condition’’
adapt themselves to the fashions
Beulah—Oh, yes, when the women
wore crinolines they didn’t have these
little narrow flats.”
No Tasto for Them.
**l notice that you always have a
box at the horse show. Are you a
lover of horses?"
dear me! I’m a strict vegeta-
SctSL Accommodating.
Wilt-Ma’am. I want a bite.
Woman— -All right Here, Towserl
FEW POLICEMEN IN BOSTON
New York Woman, Who Had Lost Her
Way, Discovers Officer After Walk*
Ing Many Blocka.
▲ young woman from New York, on
one of her rare visits to Boston, found
herself getting unusually bewildered
in tho labyrinth of streets converging
at tho South Terminal station. With
tho Immediate , instinct of the New
Yorker, who can usually be sure of
finding an officer stationed at every
crossing,' she turned to look for a
policeman. But no policeman was
forthcoming.
After walking a good many blocks
she at last sighted a blukoat. But he
was going in the wrong direction—the
direction away from her. At the end
of a hundred yards of hot pursuit sbo
overtook him.
"Oh,” she gasped, “are you the only
policeman in Boston?”
The stalwart son of Erin stood look
ing quizzically down on her; then his
face widened in a slow smile.
TALKED A WHOLE LOT.
Remarkable.
The Trouble.
The Invalid.
Unconscious Truth.
We Have Met Him.
ft>R
r. W* WM A RADFORD.-,.,
•'tr William A. Hartford will anuw
questions and give advice EHEE OF
<>n all subjects pertaining to the
subject of building, for tho readers of this
paper. On account of Ids wide experience
as Editor, Author and Manufacturer, ho
is. without doubt, the highest authority
on all these subjects Address ail Inquiries
to Wllllum A. Hartford, No. 17« West
Jackson boulevard, Chicago. 111., und only
•nclose two-oent stamp for reply.
Did you ever get married, and start
housekeeping in a neat little cottage
that you could dress to your liking,
making it look comfortable and cozy?
If have never had that pleasure, you
will regret your misfortune as soon as
you study the possibilities of the lit
tle house design here shown, unless
you already have something along
this line in prospect.
The time was, when life in
a cottage meant discomfort, con
finement to two or three rooms
that were awkward. badly ar
ranged. and barelooking, in spite
of every effort to make them home
like. Thon 1 was a shivery bedroom
op, nlr.g off the kitchen, and a squeaky,
boxed-in stairway which led to the un
finished or rough-plastered loft where
the other sleeping quarters were
found. But women demanded so
many changes for the better in small
houses, that architects have wonder
fully Improved their designs for
homes o! this class in recent years.
Tl.« y have found cut how to put lum
ber and other building materials to*
g< liter to form very pretty five-room
and six-icom houses—a thing they
considered unworthy of their time
and Ingenuity not many v«ars ago.
The fact Is, it is mu- 1: more diffi
cult to make a good, little house than
to make a good. satis fact. ry, large
Louse. The planning of a .small house
runs into a thousand d!ffl<u!:ies; in
fact, architects are checkmated about
every third move when they try to
mako a thousand dollar cottage eater
to the refined and cultivated tastes
of girls who have been accustomed to
good homes.
Formetly love in a cottage meant
happiness during warm weather only.
At the approach of fall it was neces
sary to go and visit mamma or hunt
boarding house. The sympathy of
friends followed the young turtle
doves into their little suburban seclu
sion. because their friends knnw that
inconvenlt nee lurked in every corner
First Floor Plan.
of the little habitation of four walls,
bare and utterly devoid of artistic
beauty, and as innocent of modern
conveniences as the cabins of our
forefathers, without their redeeming
big, wood burning fireplaces. But the
old-time sympathy has changed to
new-time envy. The girl with a five
room modern cottage now has as
much comfort, less worry, and more
time for social duties and fancy work,
than the more ambitious young lady
who marries into an eight or ten
room house with the usual responsi
bilities.
For about $l.lOO this cozy little
combination of three rooms down
stairs and two bedrooms and a bath
room upstairs can be built in almost
any of our smaller cities or towns.
The living room, dining-room and
kitchen nre perfect in arrangement.
They nre large enough for two at all
times, with room for occasional com
pany; and they are light and airy,
ind can be made very pretty
Nobody wants a "parlor" any more;
parlors are out of date. W<? want, a
large, pleasant "living room” that we
can decorate with petal-tinted wall
and celling decorations, and furnish
with good, comfortable, every-day con
veniences which arc good to see and
not too good to use. We want a big
couch or dav njHtrt. with s’ iosst a
dozen pillows of appropriate sizes,
covered with soft material in < ,lor<
to match the other decorations. We
Second Floor Pian.
war. a u.< rris c hair by the window
and. in <no :n< r. shelves containing
our lavorite books. Wc like to d<*c
ora <■ tlie walls with pictures thal
t-n. back our ideas of cheerfulness
In this room w© receive our friends
•and enjoy enr evenings b getber nher
at home alone.
We go upstairs from ’he front hall
| in a Christian-like manner, where we
have a bedroom for ourselves, with
' another to spare, and,a good, comfort*
ablo bathroom between. Advantage
iis taken of the low roof to design
• several clothes closets. Every girl
wants plenty .of such accommodations
whether she needs them or not.
i Where you have plenty of storage
loom of this kind, you don't need an
attic; so the.-v closets are economical
J as well as useful.
What an int-resting little home this
is ior young folks! It is not neces
sary that they should always remain
In a little co tnge They may branch
out when prosperity smiles if they
want to; but in after years, when cite
silver hairs appear and they have quit
romping with the children, they will
confide to their friends that they
never enjoyed life anywhere as they
did In the little five-room cottage they
began w I th.
DENTAL ART IS AN OLD ONE
People of Early History Not Only
Knew All About It. but Also
Did Good Work.
Dentistry, though considered pecu
liarly modern, has been found highly
developed in the past. Actual speci
mens ol ancient dentistry may be
seen in various European museums.
The most interesting of these speci
mens. because the oldest, is a Phoeni
cian example of bridgework found tn
a tomb at Sidon. The specimen is
now In the Louvre at Paris, and con
sists of a woman with the teeth united
by gold wire. Two of them are trans
planted teeth fastened in by gold
wire. In the museum ot Corneto
(which was the ancient Tarqulntt, the
capital of the Etruscan federation)
may be sc<n a number of marvelous
specimens oi dental work of tho sixth
and seventh centuries before Christ.
They consist mainly of bridgework
done by riveted bands of metal.
Tho satiric poets of Rome, especial
ly Martial, refer frequently to artifi
cial teeth. Martial speaks of an old
woman who was so scared that as she
ran away her teeth fell. Out. In one
epigram he answers the question why
one woman's teeth are dark, while
another’s are white, though both are
of the same age, by saying that one
of them buys her teeth, while the
other has her own. The Romans had
a number of different kinds of den
triflees, and took great care of thear
teeth
I THE BLONDE !
g MAN*S_BABY t
By Dorothy Douglas
Cynthia gazed through the hedge
that separated her garden from the
one next door
"l.ittle darling,” she breathed and
her nerves quivered for a touch of the
tiny mite who played among the sun
flowers at the foot of the garden.
"Da, <ia, da!” The child s high
pitched voice followed each attempt
as .;he strained on tip-toe tor the
great yellow heads.
“it must be that blonde man’s
baby.” 'J be minor part of Cynthia bad
gone off into disinterested theory as
to baby's parentage. In a vague way
she remembered having s< en a very
I ionde rnan entering the gate next
door. “That 1; nguld creature is the
mother.” She also recalled having
seen a woman rocking idly on the
Veranda.
i ut the major part of Cynthia's be
ing was given over to unceasing long
ing for rhe child it's elfin beauty had
posse •'<•<! Cynthia's soul ior the past
ten days.
"Little lonely heart!’ sighed Cyn
thia and buried unflattering thoughts
toward the Lion de man and Lu lan
guid wife.
She drew back behind a clump o?
bu-hes. A woman had ron:e hurried
ly into the garden next door. Cynthia
watched her stoop and print a hasty
kI-s on the baby's cheek, after w hich
she stepped out and into a waiting
carriage.
C; ntiua gasped. For a moment -ho
couldn't believe what her senses told
her —that the woman with the travel
ing coat and suit case had gone away
and left the child alon«.
A slow smile dawned in Cynthia's
eyes. Th • maid in the next house
was a Hungarian and could scarcely
speak English. With both parents
out ot the way Cynthia realized that
•be I-::by was practically’ in her arms.
Yet Cynthia had not prepared lur-
AT.S,'-.-w.tVTT
self for the groat throb that shook
her when the baby arms first tight
ened spasmodically about her neck.
And as suddenly the awful fear
gripped her that one day she would
have to give up this love.
‘ You lonely, wistful, sad little
thing," she cried. “What it> your
name, darling?”
"Da. da!”
Cynthia laughed.
“And your mamma’s name?"
“Da, da!”
"Evidently Daddy is the sun. moon
and st its to you," smiled Cynthia.
As day after day wore on the baby
became a vital part of Cynthia’s lite.
It became a nightly terror when as
dusk drew down she stood beside the
dividing hedge and put the clinging
arms from about her neck.
Had the awful loneliness been lees
apparent in tho child’s lite vague
thought-: would not have entered Cyn
thia’s mind. But that staring neglect
together with her own over-developed
love for beautiful chiidren swept Cyn
thia from her feet. A torrent of tear
ful yet delightful schemes rushed
through her mind.
Another week drew to,a close. The
woman of the rocker bad not re
turned. TLe blonde man continued
to come and go.
There could be no doubt that the
man with his clear cut golden profile
was the father of the baby.
When Cynthia's passion for the
baby was at its height a letter came
from the art circles of Paris. A great
prize was being offered for a child
portrait. The restrictions were se
vere. The work must be done in
France.
Before Cynthia had finished tho let
ter she knew that she was going to
kidnap tho blonde man's baby: She
felt it! It had been preordained. A
hot wave surged through her body
nnd she swept the child to her tn a
frenzy of joy.
When the joy of tho moment had
subsided Cynthia set about calmly to
plan her escape. It would be simple.
Sho had won the baby’s love to such
an extent that she would go without a
murmur.
In the village no one knew much
about Cynthia save that she was an
artist; her time had been too valu
able to waste in Idle gossip. Cynthia
doubted If the blonde man had even
so much as glimpsed her in the gar
den.
In a fortnight’s time Cynthia and
Toddle® were sailing toward a tiny
I vilia in rural France. Cynthia had
booked passage as C/uthiu Hoss and
| child.
- Toddles was beginning to lisp an
other word or two Under ’be circum
stances Cynthia cotuklered ft advisa
ble to teach it the word ' Mamma.'*
it would save the situation.
Cynthia reveled »n the possession
of a bit of humanity that, for the tim<»
being, was all her own She made in
numerable sketches and when they
arrived in her villa In France sbe
hung them about the walls and mado
her selection for the prize portrait.
It was all of five months later that
John Winthrop took his first at roll.
In those five months, along Fifth ave
nue. The pilgrimage ui illness was
evident in a short cropped blonde
head and a vanishing ocar on u:.e tem
ple.
He stopped at the window of an
nrt store that flaunted its latest treas
ure.
For a long time hi« cy»- re-ted on
the central picture. It was a golden
haired baby standing on ti|>-toe amt
trying to reach the yellow head of a
sunflower.
“Joyce!” burst from his lips.
And with the movement of his lips
something snapped within John Win
throp's head. Mists cleared and tho
light of understanding swept into his
eyes; he drey a long draught of
spring sunshine and realized that
men ory bad returned to him.
In Id j the shop he w u s informed
that the portrait v . . not for sale.
"It ir the prize picture from the In
s’it- e contest,’ said the man in t.io
art store.
“Cynthia—” V.'inthrcp bent over the
n -•.••• ••£
don't make out tLe 1 t name ."’
' I .-i.-- baa a
In
cue t -ji< d Winti. •
Aneth 1* fortnight John Win
throp made his swi.j ‘Lijugh th**
lane l - to a villa in ? ; . . hng!ed
motions burned v;4.»n i.. ... but jo
had determined to ; r.-• ( Ra Ross
a ch rc to (!<f<r.: lie;- m before
’"’’l- ••* the mat .a . knient
han Is t’ »> Lh owl.
!!• aw h r then a he a<. reached,
he .’..rdon v> .h '! . . g;ouous
France shining on he: '. .; and in her
T< • • .
was playing in tho bi* .- r ’ » ,;i.
Winthrop wat<! cd ti. m .< r a long
n:< i.'ient wit!, a ; .ili. . i.-uteinug ut
the jaw.
"Daddy!” the 'baby's hi.;h pit
voice rang out. SI < .. !• • to” ard
him, but trippie 1 ot
Cyn’tia c:i>’ one .-’•»!• , i. mteu look
into the blond * : . ..r, ■ e»es and
• • '' • in ner
arms. She turned uc-L. toward
him, then slowly L. < -t: - being
drooped pitifully and ver; -;■>»•. y
came toward Winthrop. Without rals.
in? the heavy eyelids ;hput the
baby in his arms; li-r hand brushed
bls and the man qulv red. Cynthia
turned away.
“Mamma!" wailed Toadies.
A hot flame darted through Cyn
thia. She turned to me< t. the surprise
in the blonde man s e. es.
“Nobody came to claim her!” she
cried In seif defense.
"I got a rap on the head—the
week—"
“You have been io’.” put in Cyn
thia swiftly, contritely, “and i am the
cause of it.” •
"No, no!" Winthrop pushed the
blonde hair rem bi- itrnp. . "I was
knocked down. This - r proves it.
My memory only cam • Lacg when L
raw the portrait of— ’ 11 touched the
baby’s curls—“ Jo yce."
"Joyce’ ’ Cynthia laughed more or
lees hysterically. "I am afraid she
won't knew that name i
“Wl.ut have you l < < n calling her?”
"Oh loddlts. 1»..:.1r.g Sweetheart
—anything that came ipu my head."
(tenth ness, tendt ri ii that was
leautiiu! swept into Wii. hrop’s eyes.
"it is rather strange one who
can love children so—she aid remain,
unmarried.” was his remark.
"I have never—likt i men." said.
Cynthia, and a s’c .v smile dawned.
The surprise in Winthrop's iaee
turned to quizzical humor. Cynthia,
was not aware th..t her eyes were ex
pressing things quite readable to tho
masculine eye.
"Nor I women." laugh. ’ Winthrop.
"Not even the mother o. Toddies'.’”
Cynthia couldn t help asking.
"Toddles' mother was my brother’®
wife." said Winthrop; ’the baby wa®
orphaned v. hen she w;.s live month®
old—my sister and I have done tho
best we could, but my sister is not
fond of cbildri n. You may have seen
her on the porch—”
“You have known 1 lived—”
“Since the first. I have watched
you a hundred times.” He <*aught her
hand swiftly when she would have es
caped. “Don’t run away—little moth
er of Toddle®.’’ He spu! e breathless
ly, for the hand within bis v. as trem
bling. "1 have hoped always tor
this.”
\ou should hate and despise mo.”
Cynthia’s voice was br> ken.
"Mamma!” A tiny voice called from
the foot of the garden..
The flame made itself felt in both
tho man and the woman Cyntbta
tried to drag her heavy glance front
John Winthrop's eyes.
"I will—have to teach her not—to
—call me—” The hysterical catch in
Cynthia’s voice cut off the last word.
"Don’t do it, Cynthia Ross!” Win
throp drew her panting and breath
less into bis arms. “To the world and
to the child herself she is my baby.
If you take that word from my baby's
lips I will have you arrested as a kid
naper." He tilted up the chin that
had sunk very low. "Do you under
stand?”
“I begin to think 1 do," Cynthia
laughed soft’* <

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