f.n i3'WiJi'sTiVK.,njr4-Tvt.ttenitiH
THE NEBRASKA ADVERTISER
ii ...
W. TV. 8ANOKUS, I'tibllaher.
NEMAHA. NEBRASKA.
THE VILLAGE ORACLE.
"I nm Sir Ornclo, nnd when I opo my lips,
Jet no dorcbnrkl" Mcrchnnt of Venice
Old Dnn'l Hanks lie sex this town
Is Jest the best on earth;
IIo sez thcro hnln't one, up nor down,
That'B got one ha'f her worth;
IIo sez thcro hnln't no other stnto
Thnt's Rood ns ourn, nor nenr,
IAnd nil the folks thnt's tfood or great
Is settled rlpht 'round here,
Sez I: " 'D Jer over travel, Dan7"
I " You bet I hnln't," sez ho.
I "I toll you what, tho place I've got
Is good enough for me."
IIo sez tho other party's foolf,
'Causo they don't vote his way;
lie sez tho "fcehle-mlntled schools"
Is where they ought to stay.
If ho wns law their mouths he'd shut,
Or blow 'em nil to smash;
IIo sez their platform's notliln' but
A great big mess of trnsh.
Hez I: " '15 Jer ever rend It, Dnn?"
" You bet I hain't," sez he,
"And whon I do, well, I tell you,
I'll let you know, by goo!"
He sez thnt nil religion's wrong1
'Cept Jest what he believes;
IIo sez them ministers belong
In Jail, tho samo ns thieves.
He sez they tnko tho Messed Word
And tear It nil to shreds;
He sez their prcncbln's Jest nbsurd,
They're simply lenthor-hcads.
Sez I: " 'D Jer ever henr 'cm, Dnn?"
" You bet I hain't," sez ho;
" I wouldn't go to henr 'cm, nol
They make me sick to sec."
Borne fellers reckon, more or less,
Uoforo they speak their mind,
And sometimes cnlkcrlntc or guess,
Hut them hnln't Dnn'l's kind.
Tho Lord knows nil things, grcnt or smnll,
With doubt Ho's never vpxed;
IIo, In Ills wisdom, knows It nil,
Hut Dnn'l Hnnks comes next.
Sez I: "How do yor know you're right?"
" How do I know?" sez he;
" Well, now, I vuml I know, by gum,
I'm right, because I be."
Joe Lincoln, In L. A. W. Bulletin.
FRANCISCO'S RIDE.
Vjj.4.AXJJ.J.J.J.XXJLAJLAJ.AJ.XXXXXX;f
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SrfTTTTTTTTTTTTVTTTTFrrrT.
By Ftee S. Bouilcy.
Copyright, 1S97.J
IN ONE or tho lovely valleys of Snn
Luis, Obispo county, Cul., lies the
Banch del Snntu Thcresu, the home of
Scnor Don Alfredo Bodriguez.
In nn ensy chnlr on the vernndn snt
Don Alfredo himself a dark swarthy
limn, whoso fnee ivjih nlniost the color
of mahogany. Ills linlr wns n grizzly
Gray; his mustache and side whiskers
were worn after the stylo of tho old
Spanish grandees, for Don Alfredo nl-v.-uys
kept in mind that ho came from
,0.rie of the aristocratic families of Mex
ico. , Near him wns his wife, a lady whose
largo black eyes, creamy complexion,
nnd u certain dignity of enrringe pro
claimed her Castilinn blood. Don Al
fredo seemed to be watching for some
one, and glanced impatiently up the
valley.
"Look," said Don Alfredo, addressing
iho lady in Spanish, "look, and tell me
it you enn see our boy, Francisco; it is
time that ho was back from Jolon."
"I sec nothing, Senor," she said.
"I hear hoofs," said Don Alfredo.
"Ah, here ho comes right over the hill.
See the rascal ride! He will break his
neck or kill his horse."
Dashing down the hill at breakneck
speed, a handsome, dark-skinned boy
of 10, spurred his horse to a flying leap
across a ditch, cnslly clearing it.
The parents watched him ndmirlngly.
Ho was their only son, and all their
liopes were- centered in him. A few
yards from the veranda ho reined bnclc
his steed. Tho horse braced himself,
jumped stiff-legged, nil four feet to
gether, and eamo to nn Instant stop.
A look of pride came over the father's
face, but otherwise he made no sign.
Francisco raised his hat. "Senor,"
lie said, "great news; I have a letter
from Clarence Grey. He asks mo to
come to Snn Frnnclsco for a long visit,
nnd to bring my horse with me. Clar
ence writes," said the boy, excitedly,
"that the president of tho United States
is soon to be there. The whole city will
he trimmed with flags; there will be
music and fireworks, and tho launching
of a great war ship; it will bo a grand
fiesta for a whole week."
Don Alfredo's face colored. "Go put
your horse in the corral; wo will talk
of this afterwards," ho said.
"But hero is also a letter from Senor
Grey to you, papa, and one from Senora
Crey to you, momma," continued the
boy. He translated ns he read, for his
parents were deficient in English. Both
notes were very cordial, seconding Clar
ence's invitation and assuring tho pa
rents thnt n hearty welcome awaited
their son if ho should come.
The Grey family had formerly been
neighbors of the Bodriguez family, liv
ing on an ndjolnlng ranch. But dur
ing tho "great boom," four years pre
vious, Mr. Grey had sold his ranch for
n sum that mode him a wealthy man,
and had removed his fnmlly to San
Francisco. Tho two families had been
much more intimate than the Spanish
nnd American families generally ore,
nnd the two boys were the best of
friends.
When the boy rode nwny the mother
looked appcnllngly to the husband and
father. "It would be a great pleasure
for him," she said.
"Of course," said Don Alfredo, "but
when once he has tasted such pleasure
and excitements, will he be satisfied to
return and live on the much nguin. I
fear not."
"But the chance to sec the president,
tho music, the grand sights; nnd then
the kind Invitation of our friends
surely we must notslight them," plead
ed tho mother.
"Very true," replied Don Alfredo
briefly; and the mother said nothing
more.
The supper was eaten In silence.
Then Don Alfredo turned to his son
and wild: "Now, Senor, what more?"
"Clarence nays," answered Francis
co, reading from the letter, "that he is
a member of a ridinir club, nnd thnt
some of their best riders are to act ns
escort for the president's carriage; and
if I come, I shall he sure to have an
invitation to rhlo with them. Would
not that bo an honor, Senor?"
All Don Alfredo's pride wns stirred
at the prospect of his son's riding with
the president's escort. On horsebnek
Francisco would be the peer of any of
them. "Indeed it would bo an honor,"
ho answered warmlv. "nnd w nwn w
to our good friend, Scncr Gvey, to ac
cept his kind invitation. To refuse
would be an insult. You must go, and
you snail lauo -tno Babbit' for
horse."
Francisco's eye sparkled. "The Bob-'
bit," a spotted white and chestnut, so
named for his great leaping powers,
was accounted the best saddle horse in
that pnrt of the country.
"Go you, to-morrow," continued the
father, "to San Luis. Have Pedro So
boranes make you the finest saddle
that he can; tell him to put ten pounds
of silver on it. Take thnt yellow wild
cat skin to line the sweat cloth with?
take the belly of the mountain lion
skin for st'rrup linings. Go to the tail
or's nnd order a new suit of clothes;
and get yourself new boots and a fine
new hat. I would not have our friends
ashamed of our son. And take plenty
of money, my boy; go as a gentleman,'
hers, snlcl: "Frank, when you write to something. A wail of terror went
your motner, you may tell her that I
am to be married soon; and as they say
n piece of the bride's dress brings good
luck I have mndc for you tills cravat
from k piece of my wedding dress. It
Is nshefc of roses lust tho color for
your
you; you'll wear it for my sake, won't
you?"
Francisco thonked her warmly. He
would gladly have risked his life for
that charming girl.
After breakfast the boys went to the
depot for "The Babbit." Clarence wns
disappointed to sec a medium-sized
scrubby-looking horse, blotched over
with chestnut nnd white the sure
sign of Arabian ancestry still seen
among the horses of Spanish Califor
nians. "A regular broncol" wns Clarence's
mental comment. "The Babbit's" eyes
were his greatest peculiarity; the right
one was brown, soft and pleasant: the
left one was n light blue and white
what is known as a "wall eye;" and
seen from that side a more vicious-look
ing brute than the Babbit could hard
ly be found. His character was fairlv
indexed by his eyes, good and pleasant
at times, unruly and treacherous at
others.
Ben, Mr. Grey's negro coachman, was
to lead the horse home. For a block
the Babbit walked as meekly as a
lamb; then a street car attracted his
attention.
There wns a rearinc and a pluncro.
and the Babbit went Hying down the
street toward the depot. A sharp cry of
"Bunn way I Look out!" startled 'the
boys, and they saw the Bnbbit coming
back on the run, making vicious kicks
at every team, his ears laid back and
Ills teeth snapping.
Francisco ran out and called him by
name. Immediately the horse stopped
and allowed himself to be caught.
r.jacK nen came running up, breathless
and indignant. Again he took the hal
ter to lead the horse away, but
the Babbit braced himself stiilly and
refused to move.
A crowd began to gather. Clarence
THEY SAW IT PLY FUOM HIS HAND.
and remember always that you are 'un
caballero Castillono.' "
The trip to Snn Luis was made, and
the several orders delivered. The sad
dle and bridle eamo homo sn nnrm-nii
with silver that even Don Alfredo was
satisfied; and on one side, neatly coiled,
was a new riata of extra length and
great strength.
When all was ready, this was the
boy's costume: a white hat, with stiir
brim; a blue broadcloth sack coat, with
.cnui uwwiir; a crimson velvet vest,
with golds-tone buttons, light fitting
pearl colored trousers, with wide spring
bottoms, an elaborately embroidered
shirt bosom, with a necktie of green,
white and red, tho national colors of
Mexico. But the boots they were the
triumph; so slender, so small, with
heels fully four inches high, sloping for
ward to almost the middle of his foot,
A great ruby, n family heirloom,
adorned his shirt bosom,
"The saints bless and preserve him,"
said the proud mother, "but I think
the hearts of many of Snn Francisco's
young senoritas will break with love
for dm. Perhaps ho may jv0n shake
hands with the irrnnde nreslilpnto My
self!" "
Francisco's journey to San Francisco
was uneventful. Clurenee met him nt
the station, nnd Mrs. Grey welcomed
him. cordially. Mary, the 21-year-old
sister of Clarence, also extended her
hund in kindly greeting; and as Prnn-
c sco iookcu nt her smiling face, flossy
blond hair, big blue eyes, and becom
ing toilet, he thought her a very angel
He made his grandest bow, then
pressed her hand to his lips. The
others smiled and Mary blushed, but
the evident sincerity of his admiration
pieosed her greatly.
After the boys had retired that night
the older people held a abort consulta
tion. "How shall we manage to make
him change that suit?" said Mrs. Grey
"The vest is bad enough, but that cra
vat It is simply impossible."
"I think that I can manage the cra
vat," said Mary.
In the morning Mary called Francisco
into the parlor, aud taking his hand in
was greatly mortified, but Francisco
took it as a matter of course. Accost
ing a truckman, he politely nsked the
lean of o biacksnake whip. Taking the
halter from Ben, he laid the whip
oor the Babbit's head aud flanks most
unmercifully. To the surprise of the
spectators, the horse made little cil'ort
to escape the blows. Finally, giving
the halter back to Ben, Francisco
slapped the Babbit under the flank and
spoke sharply: "Audn, pronto!" The
horse immediately stepped olr. "He'll
go all right now," said Francisco.
The next two days were spent in
bight seeing, nnd to the Spanish lad it
seemed as if all tho wonders of the
world were to be viewed. On Saturday
ntternoon the riding club wore to
take a canter out to Golden Gate park.
The riders started, and the Babbit,
with the idea that it was to be a "go
as you please" race, immediately start
ed off on n keen run, and had to be
held down and whipped soundly before
he would jog slowly ulong with the
cithers.
'1 he park was to the Spanish boy n
veritable fairyland. Black Ben was
driving Mr. Grey's team, with Mrs.
Grey and Mary in the corriuge. Tho
horses were spirited, and Clarence cnu
tioncd Ben to bo very careful. This ad
monition was not well received, but he
brought the team to a walk, and tho
Biding club cantered off towards the
music stand. Francisco turned aside
from the others, and was watching the
children in the playground.
The band had just finished a selec
tion with a grand flourish, when sharp
cries startled everyone. "Look out!
Bunnway! Stop them!" Coming down
the driveway at a furious rate wns n
pair of bay horses with a carriage con
taining two ladies. Tho driver's seal
wns empty, nnd tho reins were drag
ging on the ground. The horses were
dashing directly towards the space in
front of the music stand, which was
closely packed with carriages, all con
taining ladies and children. As tho
team passed tho Biding club, Clarence
cried out in anguish: "Oh! boys, it's
our team!" and he started nfter in a
-nJq hope that he might be able to do
from nil the spectators. Behind theflv
Ing currlago came a couple of mounted
park policemen, but too far away to bo
of any assistance.
But as they passed there came tho
sharp "click, click, click," of hoofs that
hardly seemed to touch tho ground,
and the Babbit shot by like a flash, his
curs laid back and his nose straight
out in front. He was fairly flying, and
his rider was driving the spurs at every
jump. The horse seemed to know in
stinctively what he was going nfter, for
the bridle lay loose upon his neck; nnd
Francisco was uncoiline tho rlntn.
gathering a largo loop in his right
hand. Just nt that moment a little
two-year-old child ran in front, and
again a cry of horror was raised. Then
the Babbit showed himself worthy o
his name; a pulling lift on the bridlo
from his rider, and he went flj'ing over
the child's head,
The carriage and its occupants were
new frightfully near the crowded
thoroughfare. But Francisco was al
most up to them, and around his head,
swinging In n wide circle, wns the loop
of the riata. As the people looked, they
saw it fly into the air and settle down,
over tho heads of the runaway horses.
The change in tho Bnbbit wns won
derful. When the riata shot out his
head came Up, his ears were erect, and
his eyes fnirly flashed. The instnnt tho
riata landed Francisco caught two or
three turns around the horn of tho sad
dle, while his horse jumped stiff-legged
sideways, and braced himself for the
strain.
The noose tightened instantly on the
necks of the runaways, brought their
heads together, nnd checked, but by no
menus stopped them. The rnwhida
rope spun smoking around the horn of
the saddle, and nothing but the skill of
Francisco in letting the slack run pre
vented him and his horse from belim-
overturned.
The Babbit, still brnccd stiffly, wns
plowing the ground with all his'hoofs.
The rinta ran out and tho loose end
went flying. Again the Babbit darted
ahead. Francisco, bending down,
caught both the reins of the runaway
team and the riata; in an instant they
were over the saddle horn, and the lit
tle mustang was again braced and his
hoofs plowing. The jerk threw the
carriage horses down; they were up at
once and plunging wildly, but not be
fore the Spanish boy had leaped from
his horse and ornsnod nnnli in iin
bridle the Babbit meanwhile tugging
bravely in the opposite direction.
All this occurred in a few seconds.
Strong hands grasped tho refractory
steeds and subdued them. Francisco,
brenthless, dusty and bruised for ho
had not entirely escaped tlte striking
hoofs was the hero of tho hour. The
Babbit, too, eamo in for his full share
of admiration, as ho stood there with
panting nostrils, heaving sides and
bleeding flanks.
That evening there was a grateful
group around the fireside at Mr. Grey's
house; thankful to a kind Providence
that a strong arm and cool head, joined
with trained skill, had prevented a ter
rible disaster. Francisco affected to
treat the matter lightly. "My friends,"
he said, "there was nothing else to do.
uury s cravat nas brought me good
luck. I will never part with it."
At the Bancho del Santa Theresa
three weeks later, there was great ex
citement. The young "patron" had re
turned from the great city. Not only
had he seen the president of the United
States, but he had actually shaken
hands with him! And he had shown
the city people how to ride, and had
saved the lives of his friends. Don
"" l''"t JWIUW HO OOUIU1S.
"Call all my people; they must know
what my son has done," he said.
So all the vuqueros nnd herders were
called to the house, and a keg of wine
was set out for them. With manv
"vivas," "saludcs." nnd "n-w:,,,, V,
they drank henlth nnd prosperity to
"121 Senor Francisco," nnd long life to
his wonderful horse, the Bnbbit.
How He Got Off.
Magistrate (to prisoner, who is be
fore him for begging)-What makes
you beg?
Prisoner (whining) Because I can't
get any work, your honor.
"Would you do work if you could get
nny?" b
"Gladly, your honor."
"What work?"
"Anything, your honor."
"I have a heap of weeds I want tnken
uut ui my grounu. Would
that?"
up I BICYCLE ACCIDENTS.
How Far Han tho Wheel Mnrte Life
.More llniiKcroiiHf
The bicycle hns increnscd both the
henlth and the hazards, the perils and
tho pleasures of life; but in exactly
which proportion no one knows, nnd in
the nature of things It is extremely difll
cult to determine how fnr the bicycle
has made life more dangerous.
Accident Assurance, a Boston pnper,..
has collected from the newspapers the
bicycle nccidents in the United Stntes
in August. They numbered 1,450, and
the journnl -which collected them
i-uviiua uie contusion tnnt tney arc
ubout 15 per cent, of the whole number.
This is, of course, not much better than
a mere guess, though the pnper from
which we nre quoting clnims to have
reached this conclusion "after careful
investigation." These August ncci
dents consist of 40 deaths, 244 frac
tures, 224 cuts nnd Incerutions, 420 con
tusions and bruises, -14 'dislocations, 89
sprains and 297 injuries to the head.
For an innocent recreation in nsingle
month this wHl strike most people ns n
pretty foir list of casualties. Besides
the 40 persons reported instantly killed
in August there were 48 persons re
ported as likely to die. Assuming one
half of them as terminating fatally, and
there would be 70 deaths from bicycles .
in August. August is a favorite month
for riding. Fairmount park had, for
instance, 219,304 riders in August,
against 103,075 in September. Accident
Assurance concludes Hint llm nvnm,m
number of deaths for the month is 05,
of 7S0 a year. Nearly all the deaths
from accidents probably get in the'
newspapers, so thnt one may fairly sny
that the fatal bicycle accidents in this
country are from 700 to 800, and nearer
S00 than 700. It would surprise no one
who knows how much the newspapers
do not get to lenrn that the fatalities
reached 1,000.
Taking even S00, this compares with
3S1 passengers killed in 1S9G (year end
ing June 30), 1,900 railroad employes
an 4,400 persons run over by trains.
These things are, however, relative.
About 5,000,000 bicycles are believed to
be in use. If there are 800 deaths, and
tliis means a pretty fair proportion,
there is one death annually for 0,250
bicycles. Among trainmen there was.
in 1890 one deatli for every 152 em
ployed. This indicates that it is 41
times as dangerous to bo a brakemnn
as to ride a bicycle. No one can certain
ly object to a risk as small as this. No
one looks on a brakeman as foolhardy,
and his risk of getting killed is forty
fold that of a bicycle owner's. Out of
the passengers carried one out of 2,827,
474 was killed. These are not separate
passengers as individuals, but as trips.
Giving each bicycle owner in 5,000,000
five trips n week of all sorts, long and
short, and with S00 deaths there would'
be one to every 1,502,500 trips. This
would make the bicycle just about twice
ns dangerous, trip for trip not mile for
mile, a very different matter as rail
road riding.
All this is mere approximation, but
as far as the death risk goes one mav
safely say that the bicycle rider has a
very much less risk of a fatal accident
than a trainman, and that his risk is a
good deal greater, say, twice as great,
us a railroad passenger's. So far there
is some basis for calculation no very
good basis, but better than nothing.
When it comes to mere accidents Acci
dent Assurance is at sea. It assumes
that only one-sixth to one-seventh, oi
ls per cent, of the accidents are report
ed, and, taking the reported non-fatal
accidents only 1,404 for n sitn-i,. mnntu
a 1. 1 , "wn
it- uujiL-iuaes mat the entire
is aoout 9,000 per month, or
year.
No great trust can be put in a calcula
tion of this sort. If there are about
100,000 bicycle accidents in a year then
about one bicycle owner in 50 is in
jured in each year. Among the train
men one in ten is injured, so that while
the bicycle owner's chance of bein
tilled is 40 times less than a trainman's
his chance, of being hurt is only one
fifth as great. Again, assuming that
bicycles are ridden on the average five
times a week, about one bicycle pas
senger or tripper, so to speak, is hurt
out of every 115,000, while among pas
sengers one out of 178,132 is injured,
so that the chances of injury on the bi
sycle to the chances on a railroad train
me imoiu as inree to two.
number
10S.000 a.
you do
jYes, your honor, only too glad of the
"You are discharged."
"Did you say I was discharged
honor?" b '
your
"Yes, you nre discharged."
"Then weed your blooming garden
yourself. "-Spare Moments.
So Dlircronf
Sarianne Beginald, how that bear in
the museum hugs that post. Hike him
Hegffy.
Beginnld (suspiciously) You (0o
(Fondly) Yes, Beggy, he reminds me
so much of you.
Of mo?
(Coldly) Yes; he's so different. De
troit Free Press.
Cheering. Tourist (nfter spending
two dnys in n mountnin hotel) "Be
sure to have my bill ready to-morrow
at seven." Host "Without fail, and if
1 hove to sit up nil night over it."
Fliegende Blaetter.
The sound conclusion, therefore is
hat while bicycle riding is on the whole,
less safe than riding on a railroad, it has
far less hazards than work on railroads
and perils bicycle riding un
ably has. This is one of th.
Hnznrds
question
very nest things nbout it.
znuon would be but n
nn
Press
the
Our civili-
poor, weak and
cle own-
S.OTtl1 -Mini- JA ..
lnvlgoratinp- Rn,. -m.i , . ..
- a -iw t. x-iiiiiiucinilin.
spiritless thing if 5,000,000 bieve
ers were not glad to face some
A Dcuiicr rti.nti.
"We have lost all," moaned the bank
rupt husband.
iT?VwM,nt1, dcnr'" rel),ied llis wife
t. might be much worse."
"How could it be worse?"
"We might be heirs to some of those
minense Lnglish estates we rend about
in the newspapers." Detroit Free-Press.
Xo Doubt In Her Ciihc
She You say you are sure that you
love me, but how do you know you are
sure?
He Wasn't your father elected presi
dent of the bank, yesterday? Cleve
land Leader. ,
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