The Nebraska advertiser. (Nemaha City, Neb.) 18??-1909, November 26, 1897, Image 3

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THE NEBRASKA ADVERTISES
XV. W. 8ANDKK9,
I'ublliliar.
NEMAHA, NEBRASKA,
-
THE BRIGHT DAYS.
The bright days they tiro coming, no mat
ter what they any;
Sonenth the snows of winter dreams tho
violet of Mny,
And somo time In the future, In the golden
years to be
There'll be blossoms In tho desert and the
streams'll sing to sea.
The bright dnys they arc coming; there's
a twinkling of tho light
In the storm that sheds Its shadows on tho
starry brow of night,
And some time In tho future, when the
clouds have faded far
Tho sun will greet tho morning and the
night will claim a star.
Tho bright days they arc coming; In tho
cities, In the dells
There's a whisper of the music from tho
morning's golden bells,
And somo time In tho future, when tho
skies nre bending blue
There'll bo angels at the windows and
they'll kiss their hands to you I
F. L. Stanton, In Atlanta Constitution.
iVWMVMVMiVAViWAYiVVVWiWA.
1 ft COLLEGE GIRL I
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i
By JVIarion Joss. S-
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CORNELTA BURT walked slowly into
the reading-room nnd snt down nt
the long tnble covered with blue-prints.
She snt down nnd took up a book filled
with "sample copies," but she did not
turn the leaves. She looked about the
room, nt the long green tnbles covered
with daily papers, at the divnns nrouml
the walls, at the great fireplace and the
scattered groups of girls. As she looked,
her eyes filled with tears, and uncon
sciously she lifted her hand and wiped
hem awny.
A pretty little freshman, who never
looked nnywhere but in Cornelin Burt's
direction when that hnndsome nnd
prominent junior was visible, stared
harder than ever, and whispered to her
room-mate, "Miss Burt's crying!"
"Nonsense!" said the room-mate, add
ing, abstractedly, "but the line A 11 is
equal to the line C D, nnd therefore
therefore why, what if she is? I sup
pose she can cry if she likes?"
"Yes," said the freshman, meekly, "of
course. But she must feel pretty bad to
cry here in the rending-room. And I
never thought that Cornelia Burt cried,
anyhow. I wish I could I wish I knew
her better "
"You are absurd," said the room-mate,
"and you know it. Anybody would
think you never looked at anyone but
Cornelia Burt. I don't believe she's
crying, either. What should she have
to cry for? She's too conceited to
cry"
But the look in the freshman's eyes
stopped her. "She is conceited, you
know perfectly well that she is!" she
reiterated feebly from behind her geom
etry. "She is not in the lenst conceited,"
returned the freshman, coldly. "She is
the most brilliant girl in her class, and
everyone knows it. She hns a right to
look proud if she likes, and if she looks
bored most of the time, which is what
makes the girls angry, it is because she
can't help it; if we were more interest
ing, she wouldn't look so bored!"
The room-mate dropped her book in
her lap nnd stared for a moment in
silence. Then, as the gong struck the
hour, she shook out her skirts nnd
picked up her books. "I would ndvise
you, my dear," she snid, sweetly, "not
to show so much disgust when Teddy
Cnrroll tells us that it's the greatest
delight of her life to buy violets for
Lena St. John you're getting there
fnst! But j'ou have my sympathy
for I doubt if you could interest her
majesty, you know!"
But it was true, Cornelia Burt was crj'
ing; and no one could be more sur
prised nt that fact thnn she. Through a
mist of tears she looked nt the familiar
faces in the blue-print book the fnc
ulty, curiously labeled: "Miss Brown,
withshnwl;" "Miss Williams, on steps;"
the students, in every conceivnble posi
tion and combination; "J. Beading,
smile;" "Lucia, bnnjo;" "Cora Willis,
Lou ITartes and J. Peterson, in ham
moek;" "The president, with dog."
She had laughed at them all now she
was going to leave them. She hnd never
bought blue prints; she had no mem
orabilia. Now she would like some, but
It was too late. If she hnd money to pay
her bills, she was fortunate, Cornelia
thought bitterly.
Somo one was practicing on the big
organ in the chapel overhead. The
queer, wheezing piston on the rending
room wall heaved up and down to the
Bach fugue thnt repeated its doleful
minors again and again. It was wnrm,
warm with the delicious, drowsy heat
of the young spring term the beauti
ful spring term with the long, lazy
evenings on the back enmpus, under
the stars, in the hundred hammocks.
And this would be her last spring term!
Somehow it was harder to go thnn
she could have dreamed, last year. To
go out in good order, ns n senior, with
four years behind her, to get once more
the admirntion and pride in her that
her class always felt when she hnd
distinguished herself, and then to leave
the whole thing finished, completed,
nod fctuj-t on, prepared for the larger
life thnt would not be so hard. AJ1
would feel alike, then. But to go ns n
junior, with nil the things undone thnt
she had meant to do, to leave to another
editor the college paper which she had
meant to manage so well, to lose the
senior drnmntics she hnd planned to
enjoy so much oh, it was hard! And
all for the lack of n few pitiful hundred
dollnrs!
She got up abruptly and left the room.
As she passed through the hall, not
looking at the large crowded bulletin
boards that lined the walls, some one
called her name. "Excuse me, Miss
Burt, but there's a note on the board for
you."
Cornelia looked up in some surprise
on Clarn Williston, a rich, rather dull
girl whom she hnrdly knew. "Thnnk
you," she said, with a somewhnt cool
nod, Miss Williston thought. "I'll get
It."
She opened the half-sheet of note
paper and glanced nt it, only half read
ing it, her eyes were so blurred with
tears:
Dear Neno: Of course you remember our
danco Is to-morrow night. I'vo got you as
good an order as I possibly could, and may
I navo tno scoonu extra? as ever,
SUE.
How she hnd laughed at the dances
and said they bored her, once! But
they seemed the very essence of pleasure
and love nnd music nnd light now.
She walked home and changed her
serge skirt and shirt-waist for n pretty
light gown, open nt the neck. She put
on her rings, all of them, nnd went to
supper. Although off the campus, the
house where she lived was a popular
one.
Never hnd she talked so brilliantly.
Story nfter story she told the 20 girls
at the table, till the room rang with
lnughter. She scowled and coughed nnd
mimicked the dark professor, she sim
pered and smiled and nffected the graces
of the light on More than one of her
flashes of wit, her delicious paradoxes,
her apt comparisons went the rounds
of the class-room for weeks after
ward. When she left the table they crowded
around her nnd followed her to the gate,
wrapping her in that delicious atmos
phere of admiring interest nnd affeotion
ate appreciation that only a crowd of
college girls can give their idol of the
hour.
"Where nre you going, Miss Burt?
Have you got to go? Won't you come
down nnd hnve an ice with us?"
Cornelia smiled; the excitement of
the supper table flushed her cheeks.
"Thank you, but I have an engagement
with Miss Leeds," she said.
"Oh, how interesting it must be to
know the faculty!" gushed the sopho
more with the pretty clothes. "But then,
I suppose they're glad enough in your
case! I should be so senred, I shouldn't
dare to speak to them!"
Cornelia smiled back at them. "You
silly things!" she said; "they're very
like other people sometimes they're
more so!" And she left them, lnughing,
at the gate.
She could not study, nnd even the
clastic engagement with Miss Leeds
seemed impossible to her. She strolled
through the gate nnd went slowly to the
back campus. Already it was covered
with light dresses, and the soft tinkle
of mandolins enme from among the
trees. Some of the glee-club girls were
singing the "Little Alnbama Coon," nnd
near the observatory a few energetic
seniors were trying to organize a uni
versal "sing."
Cornelin felt n sudden longing to be
with them nil, to be close to her class
mates, and nt the same time she
dreaded having to talk to them. She
slipped behind the trees to a vacant
hammock, and sat slowly swinging to
nnd fro. All about her floated frag
ments of conversation, and idly she tried
to guess the speakers from their voices:
"So I said that I'd have him up for the
prom., but it seems that Kitty had asked
him already horrid, wasn't it? I hate to
ask a man "
"I'd just rend eight pages of Freytag,
and I was as cross as a bear. I said: 'I'm
not prepared,' and I don't care what he
thought"
"Mary looked perfectly stunning! She
carries herself so well, too. But I don't
see how she docs so much. She says she
never gets to bed till eleven "
"Oh, as for Katherlne, she's too fnr
gone for any use; she can't speak of any
body but Cornelia Burt. And I donH
believe thnt Miss Burt knows who she is,
do you?"
"Well, good night. I simply must do
a little philosophy, or I shall be expelled.
Think how embarrassing that would
be!"
"Good night!" nnd n girl in pale-blue
imity that rustled crisply as she walked,
left the departing philosopher and
strolled over to Cornelia's hammock,
stopping when she saw its occupant.
"Oh, don t go away," entrcnted Miss
Burt. "Please come back! I was just
going. Is this your hammock?" Then
she saw that the girl was Clara Willi
ston. "I'll come," said Miss Williston, "only
on condition that you don't go. Other
wise I go immediately." She waited a
moment, nnd then sat beside Cornelia.
"Ihopelsha'n't bore you to death?" she
said.
Cornelin did not nnswer, but pulled
her skirt nside as Miss Williston sat
down, It occurred to her thnt very prob
ably Clara Williston would spend more
money for her commencement gown
than she would need to finish her senior
yenr!
"I want to tell you how much I en-
joyed your story In the magazine," Bald
Miss Williston. "I don't see how you
can think of such queer, exciting things.
Really, I got quite worked up over it! I
hope, now you're editor, you won't stop
writlug."
Cornelia never quite knew why Itwns
thnt she didn't make some conventional
reply, nnd then go. She bnrcly knew
Miss Williston, nnd she wns n girl who
snid very little of her own affairs to any
one, even the people she knew best. But
to her own surprise she looked over the
enmpus nnd said, easily: "I'm nfrnld I
shnll do very little writing, cdltorlnl or
otherwise. I shnll probably not be here
next year."
"Not be here! Why, Miss Burt, what
do you mean? Surely you're not going
to lose the senior year? Truly, it's the
very best of all! And what would the
class do without you?"
Cornelin smiled. "I fear you over
estimate my Importance," she said. "I
have always pitied the poor alumnae,
who had practically carried the college
with them when they were here, and
who nre really forgotten by the next
class but one. One doesn't count for
much unless one's on deck nil the time!
And I don't doubt that the senior year is
very pleasant, Miss Williston. But"
"But, Miss Burt. It's drendfull Why,
the clnss do they know It?"
"No," snid Cornelin; "I hnven't told
anybody yet. I'm sure I don't know
why I should tell you. Don't think of it.
I'm here now, nt nil events. So you like
the senior yenr the best? Kate Dickin
son always said "
"I don't care whnt she said," said Miss
Williston with n decision thnt nnnoyed
the junior. "I want to talk about you.
Now don't look haughty, Miss Burt,
please. I simply must. You mustn't
think me rude, will you? Because I
don't mi'on to be. But Is It money?"
"Yes," said Cornelia, "It's money."
And then with a bitter little laugh she
folded her hands on her hip nnd looked
at Miss Williston. "I suppose you enn't
understand how $500 can be an impossi
bility, can you?"
"But, Miss Burt, you could earn it.
You could write, you know "
"Not at nil," said Cornelin, shortly.
"In the first place, I'm not ready to yet.
In the second pluce, 1 should hnve to be
sure. I couldn't live from hand to
mouth, on n chance. It may be very well
for genius, but it won't do for me." She
spoke quickJy nnd almost nngrlly, ns if
she were justifying herself to some
body behind Miss Williston.
"I hnve lived nil my life in comfort. 1
can't stnrve in nn attic just for n di
ploma. And then oh, it's impossible!"
She turned her head away and talked
low, ns if to herself. Miss Wlliston lis
tened with hushed breath, fearing to
lose a word.
"You see," said she, quickly, "It's all
up with the family. They've kept It from
me because I hnte money matters. I
don't understand them. And they
thought they could get me through. But
they enn't. So I'm just going home. I
cnil't tench I loathe it. Besides, I have
n't studied nnything with n view to
tenching. Oh, why," and she turned nnd
started at the senior ns if just conscious
of what she was saying, "why do I tell
this to you? I must be crnzy. I "
"Because," said Clara Williston, quiet
ly, "becnuse I am just the one to tell it
to. Do you mean to say, Miss Burt,
that for the lack of $500 you are going to
lose your lastycar? for thnt, and noth
ing else?"
"Yes," said Cornelin, dominated ut
terly by this rich nobody; "yes, just
that."
"Then," snid Miss Williston, "then I
say thnt it is absurd, and that you
shnnn't do it. 1 can do very little nt
college, but I can "
"My deur Miss Williston," said Cor
nelin, icily, "I do not in the least under
stand you. I hnrdly know you, and "
"Oh, but you do understand me; you
must you shall!" cried Miss Williston,
and Cornelia saw that she was flushed,
and that her eyes shone likestnrs. "Lis
ten to me! I have O Miss Burt, when I
think of how little it would mean tome
nnd how much to you! Please, please do
It! Just think, only $500! I have $2,000 a
year. I am ashamed of it, truly 1 am,
but I have it for whnt I please just
exactly what I please. No. you sha'n't
get up yet. See, see how it is with me!
All my four years here, what hnve 1
done? Nothing. I've got through well
enough, but thnt's all. I've made some
friends, but not many. The only two
girls I ever really loved here were very
poor, and they were awfully proud, and
they were afraid thnt because I was the
richest girl In college oh, It wns dread
ful! And I shnll go and leave nothing
behind me nothing! If I could feel
thnt I hnd given you to j'our class to
the college for a year, I should be So
happy! I should even think thnt I was
of some use! Oh, let me! Let me feel
thnt I've really done something!"
Cornelin looked nt her curiously. She
was almost In tenrs. Her hands held
Cornelia's tightly, nnd she wns evidently
deeply In enrnest.
"It would mean so little to me so lit
tle!" she begged. "And yet It would be
so much for the class! And they would
never know never would know; but I
should know, and I should know that
I've done something for them, and that
I wasn't just one of those poor, useless
girls thnt drift into the college nnd then
drift out ngnin, and don't count either
wny!"
Cornelia felt deeply touched. "Why,
how you care!" she said, wonderlngly;
"how you care!"
Miss Williston drew a long, tremulous
breath. "Care!" she cried; "you don't
J know how we care, we poor mediocre
onesl Do you think thnt because we
couldn't write a poem to save our lives,
nd can't make original remarks in clnss,
nnd nre never proposed for office, nnd
don't, for the best of rensons, edit the
paper, that we don't want to do these
things? Oh, If 1 could only have my
fnthcr hear the things snid about mo
which nre snid of you every dny! If I
could only feel thnt 1 wns to the clnss
whnt whnt you nre!"
"The class don't like me," said Cor
nelin, abruptly.
"They admire you, and If 3011 wanted
to, you could be liked very, very much,
indeed," snid Miss Williston. "J. always
thought thnt you didn't care to have us
like you!"
There was n pause. The girls were
drifting bnck to the houses, onft by one.
The stnrs were well out, nnd Mlsrj Willis
ton's fnce seemed white, now, In their
light.
"Do you realty enre for the things they
sny about one here?" nsked Cornelia.
"Care?" said Miss Williston npnJn; "of
course I care. So do you, But 3. ?y. don't
need them, lou'rc sure of the. von
know whnt you can do. And through
you I can do the only thing I ever could
do nnd I go In June. O Miss Burt, only
$500! I could put it in the bank to
your nccount, nnd thnt would be tho
end of it. And you could pny me back
whenever you pleased, If you wanted
to. For I suppose you wouldn't let
me "
"No," said Cornelin, "I wouldn't. An
hour noo I should hnve snid that the
whole thing wns Impossible."
"But now?" said Miss Williston,
quickly; "but now?"
"But now," said Cornelin, slowly;
"now oil, never say again thnt you nre
one of the 'mediocre ones!' No one
could make so disagrenble and proud n
girl as 1 accept a kindness from a
stranger ns gratefully as I do from
you-"
But she did not finish, for Miss Willis
ton leaned townrds her and kissed her.
"I thank you," she said, simply;
"now I can hold up my head ngnin. I
hnve done something for 1113' college! I
nin something more than 'Clara Willis
ton, thnt well-dressed girlr" Ana be
fore Cornelin could reply, she had
slipped away.
Cornelin lny buck In the hammock nnd
looked nt the stars. A itrnnge peace
came to her, and she realized for the first
time how unhappy she had been. Slow
ly the great bell struck eight. The
light came up in the grent, shndowy
buildings. Only the seniors and a few
lazy underclass girls filled the ham
mocks around her. "I live here! Tills la
where I belong!" she thought, happily,
and smiled to herself.
A yenr more to work nnd plnn nnd get
ready In! A year more in the place she
yes, the place she loved! Across the
campus came a row of seniors, arms
twined about each other, eight abreast:
Where, oh, wlioro aro tho gravo old
seniors 1
Where, oh, wlioro aro the grave
seniors?
Where, oh, wlioro are tho gravo
old
old
Henlora7, .
Safe, now. In tho vldf wldo worldl
There wns n sad little ring to the old
tune, nnd Cornelia wondered if they
were sorr3f.
"Thnt doesn't menu me,"shcsaid, hap
pily to the hammock pillows; "that
doesn't mean me!" Youth's Compan
ion. ALCIBIADES.
A
FnHuliuitliitr Athenian Who Ijeil a
Knnt Life.
Alcibindes was an excellent repre
sentative of the young Athenians of his
time. He was witty, eloquent, full of
generous impulses, luxurious, unscru
pulous, and absolutely without rever
ence. His character was full of contra
dictions. Alcibindes was the most
beautiful youth in Athens; he hud
wealth, ancient family and powerful
friends. He fairly bewitched the peo
ple. Ills doings were the town talk,
and once he cut oil the tail of his beau
tiful dog for which he had paid over
$1,000, saying that if the people did
not have the mutilation of his dog to
talk about they might be saying worse
things about him.
lie lived lavishly and wantonly, and
nfter he had wasted most of his prop
erty he married a rich wife, Hippnrcte,
daughter of Hipponieus, who, in time,
became justly indignant at his way of
life, and left him. She sought a di
vorce, but in order to obtain this she
had to apply in person to the chief
magistrate. As she was on her wny
to the office her husband seized her nnd
carried her b3' force to his home, whero
she remained with him until her death.
Alciblades came to a violent death.
He was on his way to Babylon to J ho
court of the great king when enemies
set fire to his dwelling by night nnd ho
was killed as he leaped through tho
flames. No country ever sulTurcd or
gained more from the changing for
tunes of a single person thnn Athens
from the fortunes of Alcibindes. Cin
cinnati Commercial Tribune.
Kntli-u WJM'ilt 31 u 111 11 m.
Sift thoroughly with one and a half
pints of entire wheat flour, two tablo
spoonfuls of baking powder, half a
tnblespoonful of sugar. Add to this
three-quarters of a pint of sweet milk,
to which has been added the well-beaten
yolk of an u and two tahlcspooufuls
of melted butter. After these ingre
dients nre well mixed, nnd just beforo
putting into well-greased muffin rings,
add the whito of the c well beaten.
Bake in a hot oven 20 minutes, or until
nicely browned. Chicago Times-Iler
aid.
KNIGHTS OF LABOR.
riio Nntloiml Amioinbly Adjourn Atlei
Adnptlnc Important Itcnoluttoim.
LouisvtM.K, Ky., Nov. 18. Tho gen
eral nssembly of tho Knights of Labor,
which has been In session in this city
slnoo tho early part of tho week, com
pleted its work yesterday nnd ad
journed until tho second Tuesday of
next November, when it will conveno
in Chicago. Resolutions wero adopted
as follows: Declaring unequivocally
in favor of tho independence of Cuba;
condemning tho alleged hasty notion
of tho deputy sheriffs in tho llnzleton
affair, nnd calling upon tho govern
ment to take such steps ns will bring
tho offenders to justice; denouncing
tho Cluvolnnd administration for
"hatching" tho present sale of the
Union Pacific railroad, and the present
administration for carrying out the
plan; condemning tho not of the
browory workers of tho American Fed
ora tlou of Labor In seeking by alleged
unfair means to forco tho Knights oi
Labor employes of tho Ilochestor
Browing company to withdraw in
favor of tho federation, and tho oxecu
tlvo board was authorized to takosucli
stops as will bring the offenders to no
count for what is" considered a most
unfair action. If it is found neccssnty,
tho board is authorized to retaliate by
declaring war against tho products of
all breweries wlioro American Federa
tion of Labor men aro employed.
Tho co-operation board was Instruct
ed to obtain all the information possi
ble to carry out tho scheme of the
Knights of Labor and to attempt to
establish colonics for co-oporntlvo
plants In all states whero tho propor
advantages can bo secured. Tho
scheme, it Is thought, will give om
ployment to thousands of idle work
iugniou. Tho financial question ocensionod no
end of discussion nnd finally resulted
in the adoption of resolutions de
nouncing strongly tho present blink
ing 83'stem as advocated by tho na
tional bankers.
THE KETCHAM MYSTERV.
Mrn.
Wikllcup JUuy Iluvn Murrltxl tho Iiiitlcr
liiHtcud of Kotcliuni.
Chicago, Nov. 18. Additional mys
tery is thrown about tho ease of John
B. Kotcham, with every development
brought forth by tho polieo in their
efforts to ascertain tho facts surround
ing his death at tho home of Mrs.
Minnie Wallace Walkup, or Ketcham.
Joseph Keller, the butler at tho home
of tho woman who now claims to be
the widow of Mr. Kotcham, disap
peared Tuesday evening, after having
been held for somo time by Police
Lieutenant Creighton, under cross ex
amination of the most severe char
acter, regarding tho circumstances of
tho alleged marriage of Mrs. Walkup
to Ketcham last September. Tho sus
picion has been growing upon the po
lice, as tho result of rumors which
started in Milwaukee, that Keller ap
peared in tho role of bridegroom nt tho
wedding and that he, and not Ketahnm,
stood before tho minister with bin face
concealed under tho folds of a ncarf.
As the result of this suspicion, ho was
yesterday driven away in charge of
an officer. IIo is now held by tfeo po
lice, who aro able to produce him at
any time ho may be needed. Relatives
of Ketcham will contest his will, if
such an instrument is in existence, on
tho ground that ho was not only of un
sound mind nt tho time ho may have
signed it, but for ten months previous.
Kotcham's two brothers and two sis
ters will also deny that thulr brother
was legally married to Minnie Wallace
Walkup.
KNOWS CLAYTON'S MURDERER.
A (loorglit fllun WI10 AgrnuH to I'roduoo tho
ArlciuiHiiH Miiii'm AmiikiIii.
Litti.h Rock, Ark., Nov. 18. Tho
memory of tho most famous crime over
committed in Arkansas tho assassina
tion of John M. Cla3'ton has been re
vived by the receipt of a letter by Gov.
Jones, written from Pitts, On., by Lu
ther Aldus. Tho writer of tho
letter recalls the crime, in
quires about rewards and states
that he can locate tho murderer
and produce proof of guilt. Tho mur
der of John M. Clayton will bo remem
bered by politicians and public men
all over the United States. Clayton
was a brother of Powell Clayton, tho
present United States minister to Mex
ico. Ho was the republican can lidato
for congress in 1880, his opponent be
ing Clifton R. Breckinridge, latQ am
bassador to Russia. Brcckinrldi'o was
declared elected, but Clayton immedi
ately instituted a contest, and At was
while conducting this contesf that
Clayton was murdered. Tho legisla
ture offered ti reward of S5,000 Cor tho
conviction of tho murderer ami this
reward is still good.
ANOTHER CHICAGO MYSTERY.
ICxcmpliiry Young .Mun Dlmippcnrrf on tho
Kvo or IIlM Welding.
Cuioaoo, Nov. 18. Tho police aro
anxiously looking for Oeorgo A. Berg
man, a young man who was to have
been married yesterday evening, and
who cannot now bo found. Ho was to
have wedded Miss Margaret Perry, of
Bl.'l East Fifty -Third street, and they
wero to have gone east on their wed
ding tour. Bergman left the Porry res
idence with S700 in his pockots, intend
ing to purchaso tho tickets to Wash
ington. Ho never reached tho nftlrond
olllce, nor can anything bo learned of
him. Ho bore an excellent reputation
and was devoted to his fiancee, to
whom ho had beon engaged over bUioo
they wero children.