The frontier. (O'Neill City, Holt County, Neb.) 1880-1965, August 08, 1901, Image 3
15he Sco virge I A Story of I j /.yv the East... o7Da.n\53k.sc\js Br SYLVANUS COBB. JR. L_____ Copyrighted 1991 hy Robert Bonner's Sons. CHAPTER VI. It was near noon, and the king of Damascus was in his chamber with Aboul Cassem. They were talking about the approaching marriage. “In three days more,” said Hcram. “I shall claim her for my bride.” “In truth, sire, it is as you have said,” replied the minister. He spoke not with the enthusiasm of apprecia tion, but as one who would not dispute his king. “I trust, sire, your hopes may And their fruition. I pray that Ulin may bear to thee a son, and thus make bright and promising the even ing of your life.” “Good Abcul, I trust in thy words. Ha! what now? Whom have we here?” "Sire. "Epoke a page, “the Israelite, Judah is without, and would speak with thee.” “How!” cried the king. “Is it the Judah whom I sent from the Valley of Lycanius?” “The same, sire.” ‘‘Then send him to me at once. By my life. Aboul, he cannot have ac complished his mission so soon. I dare not hope so.” “Let us hope for the best,” suggest ed the minister; and before further remark could be made Judah stood in the royal presence. "Ha, Judah—do I see thee back so soon? Have you come to bring me word of failure?” “Nay, sire,” replied the Israelite, “I have come to bring the robber chief tain to Damascus.” “Have you taken him?” “Yes. sire.” “Alive?” “Yes, sire.” ‘‘And have him here?” “Ready to be brought before you at any time.” “He is bound?” "Yes, sire.” "Then bring him at once. By the host of Pluto, I would see the fellow. But—hold. He is guarded?” “Yes, sire. Osmir and Selim are with him.” ' “Are they all?” “It needs no more. The prisoner is securely bound, and can offer no re sistance.” . “Then let him come.” “Ye gods!” uttered Horam, turning to his minister, after Judah had gone, “what manner of man shall we be hold?” “I cannot guess, sire.” “A giant, I think—as ugly as a Cy lop. But he is bound, About—he is bound.” In a little while the door opened, and Judah entered, followed by Osmir and Selim, who led a bound man between them. “Sire,” spoke the Israelite, “this is the prisoner.” “But where is Julian?” demanded Horam. “This is Julian.” “This?” cried the monarch, taking a step forward, and gazing into the face of the bound man before him. “This?’ he repeated, in a lower tone, advancing another step, and gazing more earnestly upon the bold, open, youthful face. “This is not Julian.” “This is he who hath commanded the robber band,” said Judah. “Aye—and I am he whom you have called the Scourge of Damascus,” spoke the prisoner, standing proudly erect, and gazing full into the face of the king. “I am Julian, the enemy of Jloram, and the avenger of wrongs done years ago.” The monarch, as he gazed more in tently upon those features, and as the tones of that voice fell upon his ear, seemed startled by the memory of some old dream. And About Cassem was not entirely uninterested. The old minister gazed as fixedly and as earn estly upon the face of the young chief tain as did his royal master; and he. too, seemed puzzled and perplexed. “Who are you?” asked Horam. "I am Julian, the Scourge.” “But what else?” “You should know what else, most mighty king. I have tried to make myself felt by you.” “But,” urged Horam, taking no no tice of the robber's tone, “why have you sought to harm me? Who are you that can have cause for such enmity?” “1 am one who knows the bitterness of deepest wrong,” replied Julian. “Fa therless and motherless came I from the feeble steps of childhood; and I know .that Horam was the murderer of my parents.” “Ha!" cried the king, with a start. “Who were your parents?’ “I will not speak their names in your presence.” “Beware, robber! I may compel you to answer.” “If you have power to extract an swers from dead men, you may force answers from me.” “By the gods, thou art insolent.” “Then bind my tongue, as these slaves have bound my arms.” “No,” said Horam, struggling with his passion. “I have another plan. The secret which you will not speak to me you shall never speak. You shall follow your parents with all possible speed. Judah!” “I am here, sire.” “You know the deepest, darkest dun geon, where the most dreaded priscfi ers are confined?” ‘‘Yes, sire.” “Conduct this man thither. Plunge him into the very bowels of the deep est cavern, where the doors are of iron, and the bolts of triple steel, and see that he is kept safely there until the morrow. You will answer for him with ycur life." "Once mofe the king gazed into that youthful face, and then turned away to a window. “Sire,” spoke the minister, after the prisoner had been conducted away, "why do you spare that man for even another hour? Why do you not exe cute him at once?” “Because,” replied Horam, starting up, “I have a curiosity to knew who he is. There is some mystery in that face of his. It is now near the hour of the council, and I have not time to think. I must see him again. Did you not mark something peculiar in his look?” “Yes, sire; there is something in his face which is familiar to me; or, at least, it seems so.” “By my life, Aboul, it must be so. Did you mark that hold front; that open brow; that Jove-Ilke sweep of nose and chin? and did you mark the deep lustrous eyes, and the gentle curl ing of that sunny hair?” “Yes, sire.” “And can you not read its secret?” “No. Can your majesty?” “Not yet—not yet, Aboul; but I must I have a strange curiosity; and it is a curiosity which has been strangely and suddenly excited.” CHAPTER VII. At Hassem’s House. Ulin had lost none of her wondrous beauty; but she had become pale, and the healthy flash of the eye was gone. Late in the evening she sat in her chamber, with her brow resting upon her hand, and ever and anon a deep sigh escaped her. “My dear, good mistress,” spoke Al bia, gliding to the side of the princess, and resting her hand affectionately upon her arm, "I cannot bear to see you suffer so. What is it?” “It is nothing, Albia.” Ulin spoke without raising her head, and her voice was low and sad. “Don’t tell me that,” urged the at tendant. She got down upon her knees, and gazed earnestly up into Ulin’s face. “Oh, my dear lady, you are misera ble and unhappy. Why will you not pour out your sorrows to me? Perhaps I can help you bear them. You know I love you; yon know that I will be faithful. Tell me all. and I will suffer with you if I can; and I will help you if there is help to be had. As I live at this moment, so, if it should appear to me necessary, would I lay down my life for your welfare. Will you not trust me?” “Ulin leaned her head forward upon Albia’s shoulder, and burst into tears. “Oh, Albia, you are my friend—you are my sister. I know you love me; and I cannot tell you how grateful I am.” “They why will you not lift the veil from your sorrow, and allow me to feel still more for you?” “I had almost resolved to tell you, Albia.” “Then make the resolution sure, and admit me to your fullest confidence.” The princess dried her eyes, and finally lifted her head from her com panion's shoulder. “Dear Albia, I know not how to com mence. I am a child—a poor, foolish child—as you will say when I have told you all. You will say that I de serve to suffer, and that punishment should be mine.” “Nay, my lady,” responded the bond maiden; “you must not commence in that way. Tell me first all the cause of your sorrow; and leave it for me to base my own judgment. Come—trust me, and let me give you all my sym pathy.” A few moments the princess was si lent, and then she said, with a low tremor in her voice; “Dear Albia, when I said that I would marry with the king I did not think what I was doing. That strange dream, so wonderfully repeated, led my father to broach the subject, and I did not refuse. When he talked of my being queen, and of my giving birth to a king to a king of Damascus, I thought it might be my duty to offer myself. I did not then know Horam. But—now—I have learned new things, r dread the fate which I have courted. I fear and loathe the man whose wife I have promised to become. When I first promised to give myself to Horam I felt that I could perform the duty without the sacrifice of any real vir tue or comfort of life. But, oh, how changed it has all become. Not only does my whole nature shrink from the sacrifice, but it seems as though a fate worse than death were involved in the ordeal. Last night I dreamed that Ho ram was my husband, and that he meant to kill me. He did not plan to drown me, as he did poor Helena; but he declared that 1 should be thrown alive into a den of wild beasts. It makes you shudder, Albia.” “Oh, how terrible!” “And yet, my dear girl, I dreamed that I felt a relief when I knew that death was coming, even though it was to come so dreadfully. Just think what a state of mind that must be. Oh, it is horrible! Dear Albia. I know not what to do.” "Have you told me all?” whispered the bondmaiden, winding her arm about her mistress' neck, and kissing her upon the brow. "Have r not told you enough?” re turned Uiin, covering her face with her hands. "Not if there is more to tell, dear lady. You have trusted me this far— trust me with all; You have told me that you dread the king; and I do not wonder at this. You cannot have for gotten that I spoke against the union from the first. It seemed to me un natural. But, iady, there is something more." "Nothing more which I dare to tell. Albia. Nay—do not ask me. I have told you all that I can tell. And now I ask you—what can ( do? The fatal hour is nigh at hand in the which 1 have promised to give myself to the king.” "There is one thing you can do, my mistress—one thing alone, which I can sec.” “Speak. Albia.” "You can flee.” “Flee!” repeated Ulin, in a startled whisper. “There is but one other course open to you.’ “And that-” “Marriage with the king.” “Oh, Albia, this is dreadful! That same thought of flight has entered my mind before; but can I leave my fa ther?” “If you become the king's wife, you must leave him. Think of it, lady.” “But whither can I flee?” “I have thought of that.’ said the bondmaiden, "and l think I know where you could find safety. Some miles from Damascus, among the hills where the Pharphar winds its water in a mummuring channel, lives an old hermit, named Ben Hadad. His home is in a cave which the hand of nature has fashioned in the solid rock; and his life is given to deeds of charity and good will. I have seen him, and I know that he is good and kind.” “And how came you to know this old man?” asked the princess, with some surprise. “I know him through an old woman named Ezabel, who has been often in the city, and who was well acquainted with your mother. This Ezabel used to come often to our house, and once Ben Hadad came with her—a white haired old man, whose just and tem perate life is lengthening out far be yond the span of years usually allotted to man. Your mother gave him money to be expended in charity; and he told her, if she ever could find use for his aid, it should be freely given. I know that he will befriend you. If you wish to flee, I will go with you, and to the last of my strength and my life I wi'l help and sustain you. Think of it, my mistress.” “I will think of it, Albia, and on the morrow my mind shall be made up. You may retire now. It it late, and we both need rest.” (To be continued.) Good Enough for Him. Two brothers recently visited the of fices of a firm of American machine agents in London. One was at the head of an important English manu facturing firm, the second was an en gineer who had lived in Pennsylvania for some years. The latter pointed out to his brother machine after ma chine that he ought to have. “You know, Tom,” he at last declared em phatically, “if I were in your place I’d throw every bit of your old machinery on the scrap heap and have an up-to date plant right through. You’d double your output and halve your expenses.” “Tom" listened carefully and put his hand to his chin in reflective fashion. “Well, Dick,” he said at length, “you may be right. I won’t say that you’re not. But why should I change? The old machines were good enough for fa ther, and they were good enough for grandfather, so I am thinking they're good enough for me." Centuries of Imprisonment. To be sentenced to imprisonment for the term of one’s natural life is hard enough, but to be consigned to a dun geon cell for a couple of thousands years is indeed harrowing. Yet foreign judges not infrequently impose sen tences of several centuries without it being considered anything remarkable. Not long ago an Italian adventurer was convicted of 63 distinct forgeries. He was sentenced in each case, with the result that he will be free in the year 2089. A couple of years ago a young man was arrested in Vienna, who, upon his own showing, should have been sentenced to 2,500 years’ im prisonment. A total of 400 charges was brought against him, and he was convicted and sentenced on all of them. But the judge was a merciful man and in passing sentence he threw off 1,000 years in consideration of the man s youth. Flower of England The flower of England Is the rose, and this choice dates back to the Wars of the Roses, when that branch of the royal family known as the house of Lancaster chose a red rose for Its badge, and the rival branch, the house of York, had a white rose. Previous to that date the badge of the English royal family, the Plantagenets, was a sprig of broom, from which indeed they took their surname, as the found er of the family—F’ulke Martel, the earl of Anjou, having expiated a crime by a pilgrimage to Palestine, and be ing scourged there with broom-twigs, ever afterward. HE IS REMINISCENT. SOME FOURTH OF JULY TALK BY UNCLE SAM. Tolls How II1« Managers, from Wash ington to McKinley, Have Invariably Succeeded with Protection Laws and Failed with Free Trade. It will be conceded by all that the Fourth of July was a most appropriate day for a good talk with Uncle Sam. The hearty and hale old gentleman has been too busy of late to grant an interview to any one. but a representa tive of the American Economist begged an interview on the Fourth, and it was granted. I found him surrounded by a noisy pack of boys with their firecrackers and pistols. “Don't you mind the noise?” 1 asked. “Bless you, no,” he replied. “They can’t make too much noise on my birthday. This is the one hundred and twenty-sixth Fourth of July I've cele brated, and in three different cen turies." "There have been most wonderful changes since your first celebration,” I remarked. “Well, I should say so. Sometimes I can hardly realise it. But it has all come about so gradually and so natur ally that I have been ready for any thing. I get reminiscent on a day like this and can’t, help going back and making comparisons. Just think of it, there is not a person living that was alive on that Fourth of July when the old liberty bell rang out in Philadel phia. Those were stirring times, I tell you. During the Revolution from 1776 to 1781 and during the Confederation from 1781 to 1789 I was an unruly kid, like a boat without a rudder, but in 1789 I got. into long pants, and my manager whom the people selected for me was one of the greatest men that ever lived. I realize more and more wnat a general, what a statesman, what a president Washington was. “Perhaps my most important, birth day anniversary was the Fourth of July, 1789. It was on that day, you know, that my congress passed its first bill, and Washington signed it the same day—a Protective Tariff bill. How well I remember the preamble to that law: “ ‘Whereas, It is necessary for the support of the government, for the discharge of the debt of the United States, and for the encouragement and protection of manufactures, that du ties be laid on imported goods, etc.; therefore, be it enacted, etc.” "And how well it worked! All my early managers praised the act, and called attention repeatedly to its splendid results. Washington, Adams, Jefferson, Madison and Monroe were all good Protectionists. And there warn no material change in the law till 1812, when the duties were nearly doubled to provide money to carry on my second war with Great Britain. Then came the Tariff of 1816, and with it widespread ruin.” “But I thought the Tariff of 1816 was a Protective Tariff," I ventured to remark. “It was intended to be Protective, but it was not. I have always found that a Tariff that Is not Protective enough is not Protective at all. It's either one thing or the other. There is no such thing as high and low Pro tection. It’s either Protection or no Protection. “Well, the people got pretty tired of the first Free Trade period, but, after all. it was, perhaps, a good lesson, for in 1824 the boys gave me a Tariff that was a Tariff. My, how things did hum! It was such a success that in 1828 the boys increased the duties. Andy Jackson, who was my manager in 1832, said we were the happiest and most prosperous country in the world. Wish he could see us now!" “Why was such an effective Tariff so soon repealed, Uncle Sam?" I asked. “Why? Just because a lot of the boys down South got a notion they wanted to go it alone. I wasn’t going to have that, so the whole thing was compromised in 1833, and good times flew out of the window. You’ve read of those times, of course, and I don’t need to say anything about it. It was awful, and it got worse every year. Why horses only fetched 50 cents, and cows less. I remember the boys had so little money they would tear a bill into halves, quarters and eighths, so there would be enough to do business with. That lasted till 1840, when the people gave me William Henry Har rison for a manager and a Protective Congress. In 1842 Protection began again to bring prosperity, and in 1846 my manager, Polk, although he was a Free Trader, had to acknowledge that in resources and wealth and the trap py condition of the people and in prog ress and greatness we were ahead of all other nations. "But there was trouble ahead. I don't want to say anythingagainst any of my boys, but some of them down South were headstrong. The question of slavery began to bother me, too. Well, in 1844 the people elected Polk for manager, and with him a fellow by the name of Dallas, and I must admit that there was a little double dealing during that campaign. It’s all past and gone now, but it brought Free Trade again, and Free-Trade brought hard times. I don’t like to think of those times from 1846 to 1860. If it hadn’t been for the gold discovery in California and the famine abroad I don’t know what we would have done. As it was wo had to send our gold to Europe about as fast as we could get It. The old people can rememlier those times. They were awful, awful, awful. But I'm too happy today to more than lust recall them in passing. "In 1860 the hoys got back to Pro tection again, and with the exception of three years it has lasted till now, and I can tell you I never want to see Free-Trade again." “How came the boys, as you call them, to pass a Free-Trade law In 1894, in the face of the success of the McKinley Tariff?” “Oh, the people got restless, and then the election of 1892 was in some respects like that of 1844. Then it was 'Polk. Texas and Free-Trade’ in the South, and ‘Polk, Dallas and the Tariff of 1842’ in the North. Well, they worked Cleveland the same way, and then, though 1 suppose I ought not to say it, the Democrats did some pretty tall lying in 1892. Why, the McKinley law was the best Tariff law we’d ever had, and everybody was prosperous and happy. But the people gave me Cleveland again for a mana ger. He had not done much harm the first time I tried him, though I dis charged him because I found a better man in Ben Harrison. But, what was worse, they gave me a Democratic, Populistic, Mugwump, Free-Trade Congress, and then things began to go to the demnition bowwows. Gosh, all hemlock! but things did change fast. I lost 110,000,000,000 in twenty-four hours, and things went from bad to worse, till in 1896 the people gave me Bill McKinley for a manager, and I’ve kept him ever since. Renewed the contract last March for four years. So you’re sure of three more happy July Fourths." “Well, Uncle, tills little Tariff his tory is all very interesting, and now I want to ask one or two questions." “Weil, fire away.” “Who do you consider lias been your best ‘manager," as you call the presi dent?” “Well, now, that's a hard question to answer.Washington and Lincoln were great men and had great ques tions to solve, but let mo tell you, I like Bill MciKnley about as well as any of ’em. He ain’t quite as obstrep erous as Andy Jackson, and he don’t weigh as much in pounds as Cleveland, but he's a mighty good man. He’s a safe, level-headed man, and that’s what the people like.” “The Free-Traders say he is a little shaky on the Tariff,” I hinted. “What! Bill McKinley shaky on the Tariff? Don’t you believe it for a sec ond. He’s more of a Protectionist than he was in 1890, and he was a mighty good one then. It was sad about Dlngley, though. How I wish he could be here today and see what Ills bill has done for me. How he would rejoice over the exports and the balance of trade, the surplus, the bank clearings, the railroad busi ness and the immense earnings of the people. The McKinley bill was a good one, but the Dlngley law has proved to be the best Tariff law the boys ever passed." "Still,” I said, ‘‘the papers say that parts of it may be repealed and that the Tariff will soon be removed from so-called trust made articles, and with the help of Republicans, too.” ‘‘Don’t let it worry you, my boy. It won’t happen for four years, anyway. I acknowledge the people get restless sometimes, and, contrary like, but there ain’t no signs of it this year. They won't forget that Gorman-Wilson abortion, and they will be slow to give up their jobs again. Why, just think of it, my people are earning from $20, 000,000,000 to $30,000,000,000 a year, from $66,000,000 to $100,000,000 a day, and that is not our total income either. That’s too great a snap to throw away. You don't hear any one complaining, do you? There's plenty of work, good prices and plenty of money to pay the price. No; the Free-Traders are just filling space. I’m sorry to admit it, but there are always some fault-find ers and malcontents in my big family. Always black sheep in every flock. But it’s a great people, a great coun try and a great day!" And Uncle Sam went off with a bunch of fireworks in one hand and patting the Eagle with the other. F. C. UNCLE SAM REMINISCENT. A “I’m sorry to admit it,” said Uncle Sam, “but there are always some fault finders and malcontents in my fam ily; always black sheep in every flock. But it's a great people, a great coun try, a great day.” Ilappy Vacation Days. These are the very happiest vaca tion days the American people have over known. Few indeed are those who cannot plan a joyful trip to the sea shore or mountain with well filled purse, thanks to Protection and full employment at high wafes. A man will resent being told he is a fool no matter how often he may so designate himself. Foundation of Colt Training. It is important to know that the piv otal point of action of the colt Is the center of his body, in opposite direc tions, writes Dr. J. C. Curryer in The Farmer. In other words, whatever hap pens at the front end of the colt impels him backwards, and that at the rear Induces forward movements. Fop when the rope at his flank is suddenly brought into action (when he thought he would pull his head out of the hal ter) the movement is so promptly re versed that he seems to wonder what In the world had happened at the other end. As an illustration of this law, It is a well-known fact, that if a horse gets his front foot over a bar or other object (if not more than six inches above the ground) and feels the pres sure on the back part of his leg, he will go backwards and pull his foot off or get loose; when he could by a forward movement easily step over the object. It is also well known that If a horse attempts to go through a narrow door, or other passage, which presses him on both sides, after get ting beyond the center of his body, he cannot be induced to back out, but goes on through if it breaks his hips down. To further and easily demonstrate this law of the actions of the horse, we have only to take up one of his front feet and carry It forward to the strain ing point and he is seen to go back wards for relief, then carry the same foot backwards beyond the center of his body and he as naturally goes for wards for his liberty. Operations with the hind feet produce the same actions in relation to the center of his body. Now what does this all mean to the educator and trainer of colts for useful mature horses? Does it not Indicate to the handler during colthood that he, as well as the colt, should understand all the duties to be performed and just how to execute the movement? Does it not mean that the educator of the colt for his (the colt’s) future useful ness, should not only always make the lessons in accordance with good com mon sense, but "horse sense” as well? These two fundamental senses should always be In harmony. But where they work in opposition difficulties and mis chief without end are almost sure to follow, and usually the good character of the colt is injured. On account of being a mute he cannot plead his own cause. When we stop and consider that the horse never performs even the most trivial duty for us that he has not been taught to do, and the great va riety of services he willingly and cheerfully executes for us when he has been Instructed how to do them; then Is it not a plain and important propo sition (as his life, like that of man, is one of duties to be performed) that he should have a finished education, a training commensurate with the suc cessful execution of each requirement? Inaccurate Text Dottlex. The test and its alleged inaccuracy or unfairness is the basts of nine tenths of the friction that arises be tween tho operator and the patrons, and yet, so far as known, there has been no widespread attempt on the part of creamery operators to make the pat rons understand that they were getting a fair deal in the testing of their milk. Instead of using the certified test bot tles and pipettes sent out from the dairy commissioner’s office in the man ner specified by the law, the most of the operators have kept them laid away with care, as a sort of mysterious something too little understood to be used or to see the light of day, ex cept to overawe some unsatisfied pat ron. It is believed that but a small number of the creameries of the state could go into any court and establish ’’The use of reliable tests and the re sults therefrom" as they may be re quired to do in any action arising be tween patrons and the creamery man agement. It does not follow that a great number are using inaccurate tests, but It is true that few have com plied with the law to such an extent that they could prove the accuracy of the apparatus and the results from the use of it. The greatest humbug in the testing matter is the “guaranteed” bottles sold on the market. Numerous creameries have refused to comply with the plain provisions of the law for the reason that they buy only "guaranteed” bot tles. Well, everybody buys guaranteed bottles, for none other are on the mar ket; but the guarante is of mighty lit tle comfort to the farmer whose milk is tested in a bottle that Is inaccurate. The makers of test bottles only guar antee approximate accuracy at the best, and they will replace all bottles not accurately calibrated; but if the creamery operator doeh not Investigate for himself he will never know the good bottles from the bad one3, and his patrons are the losers. This of fice has never yet succeeded in getting a lot of bottles that were all perfectly calibrated. From 3 to 16 per cent of the bottles bought by this office are found to be more or less inaccurate, some of them extremely so.—Iowa State Dairy Commihsioner’s Report. Lotion for Oily and Shiny Skin. Mix one quart of camphor water (not spirits of camphor), one ounce of pure glycerine and one-half ounce of pow dered borax. Bathe the face with this lotion several times a day and persist in the treatment until the skin is in a satisfactory condition. This is excel lent for red and shiny noses. Florists are showing a black-leaved heliotrope, with perfectly black stems and foliage of a beautiful dark bronzy green and flowers of bluish purple. The cocoon-production in Greece has increased so much within a few years that silk is now exported to France.