The Sully County watchman., August 25, 1883, Image 6

About The Sully County watchman. (Clifton, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1894

Image provided by: South Dakota State Historical Society – State Archives

                
A BASK BILL BALL.IB.
J. Pinlth in lwd. Hint Tine young man
W»» m-Vr ntaalt him mot*.
He WJ4Ka mpmlrr of mir chib
WJ»O- tsr.i.
Hta |irivat«- irtiH** wt-rv imnienm*.
Hb nmiun-r tr«** ami bluff
He *-rv n |miwr collar, ami
Was iii-vi-r known to muff.
Htt rnrclv look a drink mw strong
Than kmioiuuU* or pop
Heluitfl itmukuniK. ntil was a
Muimifhvnt shortKtop.
HI* wiin Roman. ami bis ey«**
Oomiiuuilly were IM*»*I«-I}
ITE K1'
ft siil.'ti.lid umpii0,
MkI
AlxMiiittfiii li-ft Held.
Hb hair wa« rv«l nnl tthiitiflol clow:
H'li sunliurntsl
HS
hi* fact*
H«» iifvi-r shoucd with m^rv »*(Twt
Tbun on rli- si-tMiid Iww.
EMntf a num. he had hi* faults,
Alvl likcwiw hnvo *e all
Re
f«»li a prvfervno- for th#
New
York nvnla'l""
Though not a matrimonial SUM,
H- di-oil v
IiivinI
a match
And. liki- lii siMtfrs. had but few
Superiors on tlw catch.
Heiuul a nobl«* mtnd. an eke
A very hu|i|iI' wriKt:
And whVn Ik* pu.-tifd in- icon tbe Itall
His own p»«cnlinr twist.
(fpolitii-x and I'liurcli a(T«
dim
IIf" hi-ld l*-*trU't«*l views
Hix
W^N- IIMUIIIV EM-AIMD
In
cam &MM.iub-iMuie«i
ttlioea.
But In- i* gone. With Ins and out*
Forvvcr ht* ix done
He broke his heart and hurt bin Kpltfii,
In making a home run.
His bodv we have planted BOW,
Hi* soul i« in the sky:
The anjrelR reached from heaven down
And u*ik him on the th
WEIGHED IN THK BALANCE.
Solomon Speed was a builder by oc
cupation, a hard-working, calculating-,
saving man. who had come to Bel
mont when the town was new, attrac
ted thither bv promise of much oc
cupation in tlhe line of his calling:
He was a good mechanic, a fair archi
tect, competent to
sujM»rintend
the er
ection of any ordinary building, and
§ble to do much of the tatter class of
work with his own hands. He was
also a shrewd man. When he had
thoroughly inspected the town and its
surroundings, he saw that its possibili
ties were great, and all the money he
flould raise and all the credit he cared
to ask were invested in land. And he
4id not mistake. He lived to see land
that he had bought at the rate of $ 0
«per acre sold for $1 per square foot,
lie built for himself a large and com
fortable dwelling in the new town,
feeling well assured that he was set
tled down for the remainder of Lis
life.
Solomon Speed had three children—
three sons—Nathan. Thomas, and
Peter, aged respectively IK, 10, and 4.
This 4-year-old son was the child of a
second wife, married after Mr. Sjeed
had built his new house in Belmont
and we may say here that the two
elder sons were never quite reconciled
to their fathers second marriage.
They had inherited all his shrewdness,
and., having seen that wealth was
likely to ilow in upon their father,
they did not take kindly to the idea
of an increase in the number of his
heirs. The step-motlrer they never ill
treated—that they dared not do—but
they never liked her. nor were they
heartily kind to her. After little Peter
had Iwcome large enough and strong
enough to creep around upon his
hands and knees, and anon to stand
tipon his feet, the two brothers, large
and strong, sometimes spoke pleasant
ly to him, and woulu pick him up
when he fell, but they never kissed
him, and never gave him brotherlv
love.
But the child was not without a
playmate of his own sex. In the fam
ily. adopted bv Solomon Speed, was
a boy named Robert Ash worth, a son
and only child of his—Speed's—only
sister. His father had dieu when Rob
ert Wits an infant, and his mother had
survived her husband but a few years.
On her dealhlxnl she had called her
brother to her side, and begged of him
that he would take care of her bov,
and he had promised that he would do
so. Robert was at tint time 5 years
old, just the age of Thomas,'and from
that time he been one of the family,
enjoying all the advantages of life
and education that his two cousins en
joyed. But with the dawning of better
times -sis the prospect of wealth open
ed upon the family—the aspect of
Robert's situation changed .somewhat.
As Solomon Speed began to gain more
money than hecould sjx'nd, lie became
more and more inclined to save, and
he came, in time, to look upon his
sister's child a# a burden which he
ought not to bear. And the same feel
ings found life in the bosoms of Nathan
ami Thomas. As their prospects »rew
brighter and brighter they le£an to
cl icrisli the fear that they might be
called upon, in some way, to share
with Robert, their "pauper cousin,"
as they had called him more than
once.
Robert Ash worth loved the bright
eyed, flaxen-haired child, and never
f&red of carrying him in his arms and
laying with him in all sorts of ways.
n fact, the time came—it had
come at the time at which we open
the story—when little Peter and his
mother were the {xxr cousin's only
friend—the only ones who loved him
%nd contributed to his happiness.
At the age of 10 Robert concluded
that lie had been a burden upon his
Uncle long enough, and he suggested
.that it might be well for him to go
Out into the world and seek his own
fortune. Uncle Solomon thought the
the same and Nathan and Thomas
lK»th co-inoided and the uncle, stipu
lating that the boy should never
trouble? him more—should never ap-
rim
*al to him for money—ofi'ered to give
$100 in money. The lad had
thought his uncle would give him
Something, but this condition aroused
his indignation, and he would not
take a penny. He had $10, saved in
two veal's, and he would make that
Answer. Mrs. Speed, who was becom
ing thin and pale and weak, wept with
bitter grief as she held his hand for
the last time, and from little Peter she
Was forced to tear herself away.
Time passed on. Mrs. S[»eed re
*'Beived two letters from Robert—one
"Written tot St. Louis aud the other
away out toward the Rocky Mount
ains. She answered them lxth. In
the last she confessed that she was
weak, wjth little hope of life remain
ing. At the end of a year and a half
he wrote his third letter, from the Pa
citic coast bidding her that she should i
direct her answer to San Francisco.
He was going to the mountains le
vond Sonora, but a friend in San
Vraneisco would forward it to him.
Another year passed, at the end of
which time his last letter to Mrs.
i|x*ed was returned to him. She was
Jlead. and the wanderer wrote no more I
letters to his old home.
Ten years more hail passed when
Robert Ash worth—no
A*
a strong, rug-!
jred, brown-faced, full-bearded man of
{.H niet a man who had come from
llelmont within a year. From
Ibis man he learned that Solomon
Ppeed was dead, and that the older
Sons were carrying on the business,
They were loth married, and had fam
Ilies, and were looked uj»on as being I
Very wealthy. At all events, they
were proud and aristocratic.
Five years more, Robert again heard
from the old home—this time meeting
With a man whom he liatt known in
the days of his boyhood. Nathan and
Thomas Sjteed were still nourishing,
their business being simpl\ the lxk- i
ing after their real estate and {tersonal
property, and in spreading the glitter
Of their wealth nefore the world.
Their half brother, Peter, had!
flard
HurUnffton
Hawkeje.
rrown to be man of twenty, and was
at work in one of the mills be
longing to them. By some sort of
liocus
JXK'US
lim.
i
he had been left pxr at
I i i s a i i e s e a e e n e n e n i e y
ujxm his elder brothers. Robert's in
formant could not fullv explain but:
e e i e v e a o S o o o n y i s
w i a e e v e y i n o N a a n
a n o a s a k i n e o i n t- u a r
dians to Peter, the boy at that time i
having been only 9 years of age.
And still the years sped on. Robert I
Ashworth, in the way of monev-mak-1
ing, was fortunate. A strong, health-1
ful. honorable man. dealing justly!
with all. and respecting the rights of!
all with whom he came in contact,
he made friends wherever he went,
and made no enemies. Early in his
mountain experience he struck a pro
lifie mine, and bought it. When he
erected his shanty on his land there
was not another human habitation'
within fifteen miles of him. At the
i
end of twenty years, still living upon
the same spot where he had first erect
e i s s i e a i n o o s a n a y
i
and birch-bark thatching, he was'
father of a town of 4,LHX) inhabitants
—its mayor, and its chief man in every
way.
lnve-and-thirty years had now elasp
ed since Robert Ashworth left the
eastern home to seek his fortune, and
the fickle dame had never, in all that
time, played him false. Only, he luul
found no society in which he cared to
spend the calm evening of his days.
His heart turned longinglyback upon
the old home. In all the years of his
wanderings he had seen no woman
whom he could love well enough to
make her his wife and he praved that
he might yet find a faithful bosom
upon which he could rest his weary
head in trustful
confidence
flicked
and love.
So he offered all his Dorado property
for sale and though people were pain
ed to see him leaving tnem, yet tliey
gladly bid for his valuable estate.
When all his business had been set
tled, and the balance-sheet brought!
to him by his private secretary for in-1
spection, he was truly surprised. At
first he eould not believe it. He had
known that his property was extensive
and valuable and had known also i
that his bank account was large, see
ing that he owned the bulk of the
bank himself but when he looked at i
the foot of the column of totals, and
saw the sum total of all—saw it run
ning away into the millions—over
three millions—when he was assured
that he mid aright, and that the lig
ures did not lie, he was astonished. i
Government bonds had then came
into the market, and luul already
reached a premium. His first move-,
ment on reaching San Francisco, was
to lock 000,(.MX) safely up in regis
tered bonds. The money was de
jxsited with the sub-Treasurer there,
with orders that the bonds should be
sent to his address at New York. Af
ter paying for the bonds he had left
between $l,ooo,(MX), and $2,ooo.(MM) in
gold, of which he reserved sufficient
to pay his expenses on the road, plac
ing the rest in banks, and taking a
draft on New York in exchange,
w i a o s e u i y s s a k e e a v e
into the hands of a reliable express
company. And it was well that he
did so, for between the Great Salt
I Jike and Cheyenne his jxx-kets were i
Arriving in New York,'Robert first
looked after his home and his draft.
The bonds were safe and awaiting his
call, while the draft arrived ou the
very day of his own arrival, having
come on the same train.
And now for his visit to Belmont.
If he could not find a loving heart
there, then he knew not where to
look. Bet if he was to find true love
it must not be known that he was
wealthy. No, the love his heart
yearned for was a pure, loyal love
for jxKr Bobby Ashworth, gust as he
was when he set forth to seek his for
tune. So he went to a clothing store
where second-hand garments were
sold and purchased a full suit as sadly
worn and faded as he could feel com
fortable in, clad whk'h he sat forth
on his trial trip.
Arrived at Belmont—andthesteam
cars
t»xik
him to the very center of
the town—he found theplace wonder
fully grown. Where he had left
green fields and tangled hedges, were
now broad streets. Hanked with i
stores and dwellings. In short, the
place had crown
to
full six
times
its
size five and thirty years before. At!
the smallest and pxrest public kouse
he stopped and ordered sup]er and, i
while it was being prepared, he asked
after the Speeds. Diu any one pres
ent know them? Yes, a man was sit
i n e e i n e a r- o o w o a
formerly worked for them. Said he
"Well, strangvr, it would be very'
dillicult to tell you just how they i
ried a woman that made a j-aved
of him."
"But didn't his father leave
anything
"Not outright. The old man, some
how. got set against the bov
he was wild and frolicsome.
ers-
Robert got away as
quick as possible
i-esolved next to call upon his cousin
Thomas.
He found Thomas at home, and
clearly under the influence of wine—
intoxicated, but his blood unduly
heated thereby.
"Is
of every dollar he had with
They shook hands, a few more
words, and then Peter exclaimed:
"O Kitty! in all the days of my
early childhood, saving only my
sainted mother, this was the only true
a i o v i n i e n I a y o u s i n
Roliert. I was but a wee bit of an ur-
chin when he went away, but I can
remember how my mother had to tear
my arms from his neck, as though it
had been but yesterday."
Kitty greeted the man conlially,
thought at first inclined to be shy.
At length she said with a smile that
capturod cousin Bob forever:
"Really. Cousin Robert, I ouglitnot
to feel that you are a stranger. Peter
has talked of you so much and so of
ten, and
stand. If you could take'em for what' lower end of the village, and sh&l
they thiuk of themselves, they'd be SJMMUI the night there/'
two of the biggest men in creation,) "Spend the night there! You will.
That's Nathan and Thomas. About a eh? How's that Kitlv?"
score of years ago they got to feelin" "I think we can make him comfort
above work and tw»k to plavin' the able," the wife said.
big-bug etiticrly. They let out the "Well. I think so too, Robert."
mills, and went to livin' on the in- By and by. after three of the chil
terest of their money and it's my opin- dren—the youngest—luul In-en kissed
ion 'at they've come to dippin' pretty all around and put to lx'd. and, bv the
e e i n o e i i n i a i o w s u w a y e i e 4- y e a r- o o e
ever they'er proud enough." named after the elder of the ilk. cried
"And Peter Speed—what has be-1 lustily when they tore him away from
come of him?' "Uncle. 'Obert"—he was to be uncle to!
"Oh, lie is here, the same poor, them—after this, said Peter, in his'
hard-workin', unfort'nit man lie al-jfrank, hearty, oil'hand way:
ways was. lie did. one SJM11. drink a
i
leetle tx much, but he tianally mar- come home somewhat under the
him
safe to be trusted with money so he night, and must have been chlorform
left it in the care of his twoelder broth- ed
"Well, pursued Robert, "andwhat!him a friendly pat on the knee, and.
a v e e y o n e o i s e a k i n o e e a o n y o u
'Reallv. stranger, I don't like to worry. Thank God, you have health
say anything against them two men, and strength. Well fix you up a grxxl
but if the truth was told I think it! comfortable shake-down here, old fel-i
would come out al they meant, from low, and we'll l«xk around and see!
the first, to have the whole property
1
1
o u i w o u I k a s a i n u o n e w e n 1 a n a v o i i
if their broiher should marry her. It was very near the hour of mid-1
Howsumever. Peter took his own way. night when the trio began to think of
He married the dear girl, and he's the bed. As they arose from their seats'
father of five as pretty children as Rolx'rt took a hand of Peter's and one
you ever set eyes on. and as happy as of Kitty's and so held them while he,
can be. notwithstandin' he has to dig sjxike. His voice was tremulous, and
pretty hard to keep the wolf from the his eyes were brimming.
door." "Peter! —Kitty!—True hearts!—I
Nathan Sjieed had grown to be a road. So I was, but—I luul taken the
man of four-and fifty, red-faced and precaution to send my fortune on'
obese, dressed in satin liouse-robe.
pride stamped in every feature. His
wife, sitting near by, was the same.
Her face !xtraved the use of the wine-
cup. while the sparkle of many dia- reckon up my possessions, six months
monds told when* much of her lius-1ago. and found myself the owner of
band's money had gone. more money than 1 could ever sjiend, i
What a sight for the proud man to I felt the need of the one thing that
meet in his own front hall! A stout. was not mine—a true heart to love—
broad-shouldered man. brown-visaged a heart to love me i:i return—and
and full-bearded, habited in a pover- somebody to help me enjoy my wealth.
ty stricken garb, and evidently very There! Jow to bed, amfon'the mor
o o o w w e w i o n s i e O n e i n y
"Nathan! don^t ydu know me?— dear Peter—your davs of digging and
you o u s i n o e A I v e a e v i n a e a s a n o n e K i y
hard luck on the road. Beyond Chey-1 He drew her gently toward him, and I
enne I was robbed of every dollar I Ishe kissed him—a sweet, sisterlv kiss,
had with me, and i warmed with dewv eyes, and a loving,
"Hold on The proud man raised smile, but she could not speak.
his hand. He wanted to hear no On the following morning Robert
more. He knew of no claims which learned for the first time that the1
his cousin could have on him. And: grand residences of Nathan and
further: "You promised your uncle [Thomas Speed were for sale. They had
you would never again apply for
help."
"Ilave I asked for help?"
"No: but it was coming."
"No, Nathan, you mistake. I only
ask a friend."
"Then you'd better go and hunt up
your cousin Peter. He would make a
boon companion for you, I doubt
not.''
And Thomas was even more un­|in
kind than Nathan had been and he,
too, tauntingly advised the pxr wan
den-r to go and seek his cousin Peter.
as one who would Ix* a fitting compan
ion for him.
And to Peter Speed's poor cottage
Robert made his way. Not even a
poor roof to cover his head had the
wealthy broth
brother. The
ing to Nathan
and more tlm
had come very near being turned out i?111'
for non-payment of nmt. '^V1,
it
Come in where it is light." And lie
led the new-comer into the little
kitchen,
where the supjer tab!e stood,
A ith the remains of the evening meal
upon it. By the lamp-light Robert
saw a woman—the sweetest faced wo
man he thought, he had ever seen—
standing near the table and near by
two of them at the table, two sit
ting by the stove, while one clung to
its
mother's dress—were five children
the oldest not more than 12.
"Ah! I know you! Yes, I can see
the dear old face, notwithstanding the
vears, and the brown tan, and the
beard. Robert, old fellow! bless your
dear, true hear! how are you."
ivere to be Rolx-rt's chosen compan
ions thenceforth to fear the wolf—
they and their little ones—no more
fonrver.
"What!' cried Peter, when the *-u houses, and lands, clear of all
wayfarer had made himself known, '^-""ibrnnce. formerly belonging to
Bobby? Don't deceive me.
But that was not the worst. The
worst came when Nathan's wife was
i brought to the need of applying to
cousin Robert for help.
The crowning ioy was yet to come
J— a joy of which Robert Ashworth
had often dreamed, but which he had
never dared to promise himself. After
Peter and Kitty had moved into the
great house, Kittv's sister Mary came
to visit them. l\lly was the name
by which she was always called. She
%sas
i
"Say. old fellow, i suppose you have
weather, eh?"
Robert told, him that he had left San
Francisco with lietween $200 and fcl(M)
in his pocket, but he had been robbed
between (treat Salt Dike and Cheven-
-thought ne of every dollar of it. "I went to
and un- sleep in the car," he explained, "at
on
top of that."
I "Well, well," cried Peter, giving
what can be done. I wish you could
in their own hands. For a time they find work here and live with us. You
refused to let the poor fellow have shan't pay a penny more than it costs
money, ou the plea that he would drink I us. Anyhow, here's your home for!
it all up, and then, when he fell in now. Robert."
love with Kitty Moore, they told him Robert said he would think of it.
if he married her that they would And he told the story of his visit to
cast him off forever. Yoy see. Kitty, the mansions of Nathan and Thomas,
bless her sweet face! aye. and bless Peter's brow contracted and his face
her noble heart, too! Kitty was a'grew dark. He said but little. "For
|HK)r girl—an orphan—work in' in one my Kitty's sake, he whispered, "I
of the mills, and the big-feelin' men
I
i
never speak the names of those men i
It was just in the edge of the even- don't want you to be spending the
in a i a u u n a e v e n i n a n i i n s e u a i o n s u o n e u u e
the door-bell was rung at the aristo- I came back to the old home resolved
cratie residence of the Hon. Nathan that I would put my flnve cousins ill
speed, and .shortly aftecwards a to the balance and weigh, them. I
a servant announced that a man have done it, and you know the re-,
wished to SJK*ak to the master. suit. I told you I was rohlxd on the
i
i
ahead of me: so I only lost the trifle I
a e s e v e o e e n s e s o n y o u r
ney.
"Dear hearts! When I came to
i
i
irejiehed the end of their financial
means, and wished to sellout and}
leave the place.
Then Robert sat down, with Peter!
and Kitty, and frankly gave them a
statement of his wealth. At first Peter
could hardly believe that he had heart!
aright while, as for Kitty, she could
not compn'hend the vastness of the
s u u e y i n a y k n e w i s e y
i
Robert went to New York, where he
engaged an agent—who was to work
his own name—to come to Belmont)
and purchase every piece of property
that the Sjx»ed Bmthers had to sell,
i Then? was great wonderment when
it was known that a stranger had pur-
(chased
all the Speed property and
that wonderment was increased ten-!
fold when a week later it became
known that Robert Ashworth was the
U)
,l
s
w,f'"
inatJe, ov,Pr th«
the brothers aforsaid.
1
*1?
But who shall tell the feelings of
Nathan and Thomas when it came to
them that the poor wayfarer—the
brown-faced cousin—whom they
had so harshly turned from their
jtloors, was the "power behind the
i throne" that had furnished all the
money? O! the torture of their vain
regn't and deep chagrin was terrible.
.V(ars older than her sister,
possessing the same sweet face, and
Robert fell desperate
ly in love at sight, and she very soon
loved him in return. When she came
to wind her arms around his neck,
[and nestle fondly and confidingly
upon his bosom, he knew that it was
himself she loved and his cup of joy
was full to the brim.
n.,nK
honest
Tha Spanish Troubles.
.. V,.. MADRID, Am?. 16.—The newspapers
with such warmth in his here declare that French speculators
heart, that I have regarded you more I raised 75,0(H) francs for the purpose of
in the character of a true brother than corrupting the Spanish army and
anything else." bringing about a rising. The papers
A few more words, and then Peter making this assertion projxise to give
lx*tbought himself that his cousin more particulars concerning the
might be hungry. But no. He had
eaten a hearty supper just before
dark.
"I eat at the little tavern at the
scheme when censorship of the press
is alxdished. Semi-official journals
admit there may be some foundation
for the glory.
Clippings from The Italrv.
Clouicd cream is made by heating
the milk to KS*. and then setting it
in the usual way for cream to rise.
As is well known, the cream comes up
very thick. This cream is very easily
churned by merely beating it in a
bowl, when it makes a delicately fla
vored butter, which will not keep for
more than a few days. Few ]x?rsons
who write ujxm dairy matters seem to
have a right idea of the cause of this
thickening of the cream, and the pe
culiar quality and cliaracter of the
butter made from it. These depend
wholly upon the fact that the albumen
in the milk is coagulated by the heat
and rises to the top with the cream,
and so adds to its bulk as well as to its
solidity. This albumen gives the pe
culiar flavor to the butter as well as
prevents it from keeping.
Hundreds of thousands of cattle,
horses, swine, and sheep are sacrificed
yearly for want of competent medical
attendance. There is ample rtxm in
this country for 10,000 veterinary sur
geons. That would give an average
of 1,000 horses and 4,ooo cattle to each
one, not to speak of the swine, sheep,
and dogs which are always needing
medical care. To support these in
comfort would require about $20,000,
000 annually, or about $4 for each
owner of a farm, or about #2 for each
jx-rson owning animals that require
occasional treatment. It would pay
well if the owners of animals should
each adopt a system common in
France of employing a surgeon at a
small annual sum to visit and care
for his stock regularly, to advise in
regard to their condition and treat
ment, and to suggest proper sanitary
precautions. This would prevent
nearly all the losses which now occur,
and which undoubtedly amount year
ly to $r0.ooo,ooo, and would save at
least an equal amount in losses of
service by sickness of the animals.
There is, indeed, a great need of
veterinary surgeons, and young men
having a learning that way might do
well to follow iL
WHEN ON* remarks concerning
filthy stables and their unfavorable
effect u|x»n the health and profitable
well being of the animals keep in
them, the reader mav not consider it
worth particular notice. When, how
ever, tke Sanitarian, a journal devot
ed to sanitary science, says the same
thing, it may, perhaps, attract more
notice and this is what the Sanitarian
says of this subject: "There is pos
sibly no more repulsive sight than a
cow stable, and one in which dirty
cattle are housed is es|x*cially otFen
sive. It has been demonstrated that
cows neglected in this resp«*et fail to
yield a perfect flow of milk, and it is
reasonable to suppose that such is the
cjue. The richest of ftxxl may be
given to them, but if condition in the
stalls is neglected they will not thrive.
The food odor of a filthy stable must
necessarily permeate not only the
animal's hide, but it has Wen proved
that the meat of stall-fed steers, fat
tened under circumstances is unwhole
some: mereover, the milk, even dur
ing the period of milking, is liable to
absorb the filthy emanations from
such stables and to become absolutely
poisonous. It would seem, therefore,
reasonable that owners and deslers ill
cattle and milk should appreciate the
importance of cleanliness and its rela
tion to health, even as a source to pro
fit.
The Apple Crop of 188S.
i From American Rural
Home)
From all the information we can
gather and from our own observations,
we conclude that the apple crop of
Western New York, will prove as
complete a failure this vear as last.
This year, the promise was very
light, but a small proportion of the
apple trees blooming, and those not
very full. There was an almost en
tire absence of bhxnn from the great
leading market apple of Western New
York—the Baldwin. As light as the
first promise was, the second was
much
|XMrer.
There was evidently
something that prevented fecundation.
Although there were many hours of
cain during the few days in which
apples were in bloom, there were cer
tainly two or three days when there
were only light showers of short dura
tion. We must conclude, if too much
rain was the cause of failure, that the
pollen was fully riix? during the pro
tracted rain storms, and that it had
lost its vitality before it became dry
enough for distribution.
The great cause of the failure of the
apple crop of ls:S3, we suspect, was
the unfavorable season of 1882, for
forming fruit buds. The swarms of
aphis in early and mid-summer arres
ted the growth of wood, and the later
growth formed leaf-buds instead of
fruit buds. We have now luul three
successive failures of the apple crop
in Western New York, involving a
loss to our farmers of many millions
of dollars. This is discouraging, but
failures may not occur again for
many years.
Louisville as a Gamblers' Outer.
A Louisvill (Ky.) correspondent of
thePhiladelphia
Fimrs
biers are all money-spending politic
ans,and some of them are office-holders.
Two of the latter—Dick Watts, Alder
man and Ed Hughes, Chief of the
fin* department are regarded as the
princes of Louisville gamblers, but
back of them and controlling them isa
quiet little man, the master gambler
of all. The story of Anderson M.
Waddell, Dick Watts and Kd Hughes
would be the story of gambling here
complete, but their ways have been so
mysterious that not a great deal can
lx'told about them. More is known
about the men than the methods by
which they have attained their pn^sent
phenomenal power. They and their
associates have bought outright, and
openly use for gambling purpewes,
more than a square of improved real
estate they do an anual business of not
less than $!0,000,(HH). They are so
strong
and popular with the com
muiiity in genenal that not a voice has
been raised against them."
Th«.- Paper-Collar HoML
"Paper collars? You may get them
in some of the German barlx*r shops,
but we don't sell them," said the pro
prietor of one of the oldest gentle
men's furnishing stores on Fifth ave
nue to a countryman recently. As
the representative from the rural di
stricts passed out a Commercial-Ga
zette reporter asked: "Do you have
many calls for paper collars?
"Not very many. Once in a while
someone will drop in and ask for them
but this don't happen twice in a year,
and we don't keep them. As I told
that chap, some of the barbers keep
them. They have a little stock on
hand for the benefit of customers who
occasionally want a clean collar.
Within the past year one ortwo of the
big clothing stores have sold them at
about a cent a bushel. They were job
lots and were handled to draw CW
tom."
"It wasn't always that way?"
"No the time was that everybody
wore paper collars. The rage broke
out just after the war opened, when
linen collars were worth their weight
in gold. They were sold by the hun
dred at from $3 to $5. The manufac
turers used to advertise the cheapness
of paper collars by comparing the or
iginal cost of linen collars, plus the
price of laundrying with the cost of
the paper collars, the latter showing
up far the cheapest. For a time they
wen- generally worn aud then they
began to be put up in boxes and be
came cheaper. In the course of a few
vears, however, the linen collars came
back."
"Why did the popularity' of paper
wane
"The paper collar never looked as
well as the linen article and the dres
sier men soon came to this conclusion.
Then, too, the doctors began to swear
that the iiajter collars {xusoned the
skin on the neck, and that helped
things when the down-hill part of the
road w as readied. For the last ten
years few of them have been sold,
and in the last five you might say
none. The day of the paper collar
was alxmt twelve years.ago but in that
time hurdreds of men made fortunes
out of it."—Pittsburgh Commercial
Gazette.
Looking for Joseph.
He was hanging around the Grand
Central depot the other tlay, begging
money to carry him to a town in Mas
sachusetts.
"What do you want to get there
for?" asked one.
"To see the owner of a great facto
ry," was the reply.
"What do you want of him?"
"Well, I saw in the papers that he
had leen running the factory at a
loss for the last six months, but kept
going on account of sympathy for his
employes."
"WellT
"Well. I've got a bwHier some
where in that state, and I reckou that's
the man, that's exactly like him. The
old woman out in Wisconsin was bur
ied at the expense of the town, the old
man is in the poor-ho.ise, and the oth
er seven of us have lived on root beer
and injun meal for the last vear, but
it wouid be just like Josepli to lose
$40,000 a year to keep h\s employes
fat and well-dressed. I've got a bet
of a brindled calf against acornslieller
that its Joseph, and I'm hound to get
there if I have to fiv. '—-Wall Street
News.
When a Woman Is Simply Irrestlble.
Woman is just tx awfully lovely
in newlv laundered Wamsuita and
lawn, when fresh from close commu
nion with toilet soap and crystal, wa
tery bath. She has the ripe-peach
fragrance of paradise and the breath
of the ca|e jasmine of the tropical
empyrean. When a fellow
be
writes ^'Gamb­
ling is plainly the most important
business in l/ouisville. It gives char
acter to five or six of the choicest
squares in the commercial part
of
the
town, and exceeds any other brunch of
trade in volume of transactions. The
pooling rooms, which an all on the
sqare on Third street, between Main
and Market, handle not less than
$t5,000,000 a year. The faro banks,
which occupy a large proportion of
the houses of two squares on Fifth
street, two squares of .lefi'erson
street and one square of Green street,
do a business of about $3,000,000.
The winnings and loosings of the nu
merous poker-nxmis amount to $2,
000,000, at a moderate estimate the
keno banks absorb about $1,000,000 in
the course of each year, mainly the
wages of laboring men wid the lottery
offices, of which there are over a
hundred scattered like drug stores all
over town, receive and keep $5(K,(MK)
at least, half of which comes from the
negroes. These estimates make a total
of $12,500,000. The proprietary gam-
{Hisses
to
the windward of a pretty woman
who is filling the air with sweetness
and purity as she strips gracefully
along, he delicately sniff's the air for
an hour, as if he had got a snatch of
heavenly {wrfume and was trying to
woo another whiff from over the
the celestial battlements. God bldss
the women! If there were none on
earth bald headed men and babies
would
awfully scarce, and courting
would lose more than half its flavor.
—Bowling Green Gazette.
His Ma's l'lan.
"What do you want, boy
"Ma sent me after a tourists guide."
"Sure your mother sent your"
\0h, yes, she wants to'know the
name of the best hotel at Long Branch
and the price jerday."
"Going to the seashore?"
"No, sir. We're going out to spend
two weeks in the country at my Un
cle William's, but ma wants to poet
up on Long Branch and lx? able to tell
everybody what hotel we stopned at,
and how expensive it wast**—Detroit
Free Press.
There are two women now living in
Ohio whose husbands fought in the
\V ar of the Revolution. One of these
is Mrs. Davis, of Perry county: the
other, Mrs. Catherine Cliue, of Cin
cinnati, now 83 years of age, whose
first husband, Robert Cumming, was
a soldier iu Washington's army. She
is a native of Peun Yaiiey, Pa.