THAT GIRL of JOHNSON S I
By JEA.fi KA.TE LX/BLX/M.
Author of ”Ai a Girt9* Mercy,'* Etc.
Entered According to Act of Congress in the Year 1990 by Street & Smith,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C.
CHAPTER XII.—Continued.
Dolores sat up with a dignity of
hearing that silenced further words
on the woman'* lips.
“Do you think,” she said—“does
hny one think that I would leave my
fatherr
The nurse laughed softly, with a
touch of scorn in her voice.
“Do you think it would break his
heart, Miss Johnson?”
Dolores was too deeply in earnest
to be moved by the scornful words;
afterward the words and tone came
back to her distinctly.
“I would not leave my father,” she
said, solemnly, her large, steadfast
eyes fixed disconcertingly on the quiet
face opposite, “I would not leave my
father—never—while he lives—not for
any one.”
“You may change your mind,” the
nurse said, lightly, rising to prepare
for the night. She touched the girl’s
hair softly as Dora could have done,
•caressing the stray curls on the
smooth, broad brow pityingly.
“Go to bed, child,” she said. “We’ll
not talk any more about that now; it
is time you were getting your beauty
sleep ere the clock strikes twelve.”
“I would not leave my father,” Do
lores said, solemnly, her eyes raised
to the kindly face above her, “I would
not leave my father—ever—while he
lives—not for any one.”
• • • • *
"Who’d a thought,” said Jones,medi
tatively, tipping his chair back and
stretching his feet pretty well toward
the smoky mantel. “Who’d a-thought
thet big Johnslng wi’ sinews like oak
d ever kem ter thes?”
It was more the statement of a fact
than a question; he said it to free his
mind and start the ball of conversa
tion rolling. That every one thought
as he did on this subject was a matter
of course. He looked around on them
approvingly as though to Impress
them with the fact that he was with
. them there.
“Et’s better so,” said Lodie, grave
ly, changing his left leg over the
right; “et’s better so than fer him ter
hev run inter hidin’.”
A silence fell over them all; each
thought the same; in fact they thought
considerably beyond that, but not one
of them dared say what was in his
mind.
“Reyther onsatisfact’ry ans’rs they
give us when we went ter ask ’bout
hem,” said big Torn Smith, dissatis
lledly, as he pushed the cat from the
hearth with his foot and drew his
chair up nearer the fire.
“Ther jedge’s son were thar,” said
another big, stout man, with a mali
. . clous snort of laughter. “Ther jedge’s
* son were thar, an' theys were too
big ter speak ter sech common folks
as we uns. What hev we ter do with
they uns sence ther jedge’s son hev
took up Johnsing an’ his gal.”
A loud burst of laughter drowned
the sobbing of the storm, Lodie alone
sat quite unmoved, staring gravely
Into the crackling fire.
“Look a-hyar,” he said, slowly,
changing his right leg over the left.
“Look a-hyar, men, mebby’t ain’t sech
a good joke as ye seem ter thenk
with yer larfiia’ an’ yer jokin’. When
I helped with Johnsing tell ther doc
tors kem, I could see plain thet ’t
warn’t no common theng hed 'hap’d
Johnsing. Thar he were wuth his
two legs broke an’ his arms, an’ cov
ered with bruises an’ mebby no end
□’ broke bones; an’ I says ter myself’
thet ’t warn’t no common theng he’d
hap’d Johnslng. An’ when ther doc
tors kem theys sed—I asked ther
Jedge’s son as I were cornin’ out, an’
////// /// S/ ///, \
/ 11
“Look a-hyar, mau!”
he telled me—theys sed Johnsing ain’t ,
|0Vg ter live, an’ thet ’t would be a
a/fflcle ef he even live a week. An’
thar were Johnsing’s gal a standin’ et
ther winder starin’ out et ther rain,
ies’ es she’d stood ever sence we
bringed her feyther home, an’ she's ,
pever moved or spoke sence. Stop
yer larfln, men; ’tain’t no larfln’ mat
ter—thes thet hev hap’d Johnsing.” i
“Hev ther gal stole yer hyart fro’
ye, Lodie?" asked one of the men,
again starting the rough laughter.
“She’s a sweet gal, Jim, an’ ye’re wel
1 come ter her ef^ ye ken get her frum
V ther jedge’s son* But ye’ll hev ter be
s lively, man. ’Tain’t ev’ry gal kin gat
ther son o’ a jedge, an’ ye'd best put :
yer best foot forrard as soon as may
be."
“Look a-hyar, man”—there was a
wrathful gleam In the big fellow’s
black eyes as he arose to his feet in
all his height of six feet three—“et
makes no diff'rence what ye say ter
me or ’bout me, but ther next one
what speaks thet gal’s name like
thet’ll be laid cruten flatter’n ever
Johnsing were, fin’ he’ll never git up
Eigen. How’d ye like one o’ us ter
say ther same o’ yer darter, Hiram
Sadler?”
“Hi, hi!” the man exclaimed, with
another burst of laughter not so loud
nor so long as before. “Hi, hi! hyar’s
kem a champ’on fighter fer thet gal
o’ Johnsing’s sure's ye yve, Jones.
Let’s hev a drink outen et, ter drive
all ill feelin’ off. I meant no harm ter
ye, Lodie, nor ther gal neither.”
And the big man looked down on
the speaker with steady eyes as he
answered: *
“Say what ye like ’bout me an’ ter
me, Sadler, but there firs’ sech word
'bout thet gal o’ Johnsing's from any
o’ ye'll be yer last.”
And they knew he meant what he
said.
CHAPTER XIII.
Around the Tavern Fire.
“I heard reyther a strange story
ower yander in ther town thes mornin'
when I went fer ther doctors,” Tom
3mith said, presently, setting down his
mug of cider and wiping off his beard
sd lips with the back of his hand. ‘‘A
strange story an’ reyther more’n I
;hink Johnsing deserves.”
“He hev more’n he deserves now,”
Sadler said, with a leer at Lodie.
“But the story, Tom,” Jones inter
posed, to prevent further unpleasant
less. “Ijet’s hev et et once.”
“Et’s ’bout Johnsing, of course,”
Smith said, solemnly. “Et all ’pears
:er be ’bout Johnsing. A shefless, no
count critter ennyhow.”
“Never mind ’bout thet,” Jones said,
seeing I»die turn his big black eyes
from the fire to the face of the speak
er. “Johnsing is havin’ all he ken
well carry ’thout our sayln’ hyard
:hengs ’bout hem. Let’s hev yer story,
rom.”
“Well, when I was done seein’ ther
iocters an’ ther wlmmen,” Smith con
tinued, “et ther judge’s house, what
young Green sent me ter see, I went
iwer ter Scrubb’s on ther corner
ipp’sit’ ther court house where some
i’ ther fellers was. One o’ ther men
:har got ter talkin’ pretty free ’bout
ther trial an’ ther lamin’ an ther hull
j’isness, an’ one o’ ther others sed ter
lim thet he’d best keep a civil tongue
n his head ’bout thet Johnsing an’ his
sal, fer et seems thet I^em Johnsing—
lim thet left hyar many year ago—
lev kem back ter see his brother,
m’ has been askin’ news o’ him, an’
s a-findin’ out all he ken ’bout him,
in’ special 'bout thet gal o’ hlsn. Et
leems he hev got his darter with him
in’ she hev took a farncy ter thet
sal o’ Johnsing’s from ther first what
ihe hev heard all from ther judge’s
ion. An’ e^’s kem out thet thyes goln’
;er kerry her ’way up No’th ter ther
lig city when tneys go, an’ eddicate
ier an’ make a lady o’ her. An’ Lem,
le hev a heap o’ money, they says
iwer yonder, an’ he an’ ther jedge's
itruck up a powerful fr’endship thet
nay, they ’lowed, mebby prove a’
leneflt ter Johnsing in many ways,
iut most special in a way ’t wes all
enow.”
Hit pears queer now tnengs Kem
■ound,” Sadler said, meditatively, “but
jem Johnsing al’ays did hev more
;rit ’n most of ’em. Theys a shef’less,
10 ’count set ennyhow, ’ceptin’ him,
in’ ther gal worse ’n most.”
“Look a-hyar, Sadler,” Lodle said,
ilowly—Dolores could not have
ipoken slower. “Et’s bein’ worse's
her beastie ter hit a man when he's
lown, special when yer know he kyan’t
ive long ter bother nobody. Ef
heys get hem ower ter ther town
dive et’ll be more’n l reckon. An’
nore’n thet, he may be dead or a-dyin’
hes minuet while wes what call our
lelves his fr’ends be talkin’ o’ him
lames an’ sayin' onkind thengs ’bout
lem. Hem an’ his gal has ’nough ter
henk of 'thout we uns heapin’ on her
m’ him a lot o’ hyard thengs ’t ain’t
ill true or kind. How’d ye like ther
lame ’bout ye, or yer gal, Sadler?”
The Are died down on the hearth
intil only a glowing heap of ashes re
nained. The rain and wind sobbed
mtside at the doors and windows,_
iwaying the creaking sign at the door
)ost. Suddenly the low door was
hrown open, letting in a gust of
loarse east wind and showers of rain
ind sleet, and out of this,like a wreath
>f the storm, tall, grave-faced, drench
id to the skin, young Green stood in
heir midst.
He closed the door and advanced
oward the Are, removing his hat as
le did so.
Jones arose at once. Jones was
ilways ready for business; the judge’s
ion would pay well, no doubt; he
should have the best in the house,
rhe other men retained their positions
ind regarded the new-comer with no
'riendly eyes.
“A powerful bad storm, jedge,” said
iones, good-naturedly. "Kem right
ip hyar by ther Are, an’ get ye dry.”
“Yes,” Green said, pleasantly, quick
o note the sullen aspect of the men
tround the Are. “It’s a night to make
-,— -- —.„ ■ -
one glad of Are and shelter. Hav«
you a place for me to-night, Jones?”
“Sartaln, jedge. Wes al'ays a place
fer ye an’ a plate an’ mug. Ye shall
hev a smokin’ supper ter sort o'
straighten ye out. an’ ye’ll take oil
yer thengs an’ hev ’em dried. Hyar's
a mug first ter brace ye. Et’s a pow
erful bad night is this.”
"Thank you,” Green said. “You’re
a good-hearted host, Jones. It is
pleasant to feel one is so heartily wel
come.”
He drew up the chair Jones placed
for him, merely noticing the men Id
the simplest manner.
“How is Johnstng now, Jedge?”
Lodie asked, slowly. He was privil
eged to ask; was he not one of those
who rescued the man?
“Unconscious,” Green replied, grave
ly. “The doctors dare not leave him
for a moment. He is in a critical state
and the least movement might prove
fatal.”
“Have theys sot his broke bones,
Jedge?” Sadler asked, respectfully.
“Yes,” Green replied, stretching his
Young Green stood in their midst.
wet feet toward the fire and enjoying
Its warmth and rest after the dreary
day. “They have set his right leg
and his arm, but his left leg will have
to be amputated near the hip.”
A silence fell over them. A sort of
awed silence it was, at thought of all
it meant. And it was the same man
who stopd in their midst but three
days before, powerful of muscle, with
cords like an oak, vowing vengeance
upon this young man who had saved
his life.
“The leg should have been ampu
tated at once, for it was in a terrible
condition, but the doctors dared not
do it; in his weak state it might prove
fatal. To-morrow they hope to do it
His daughter Knows nothing of his
critical condition, and they wish her
not to know. The waiting and sus
pense have told much on her already,
and she must have no more excite
ment at present.”
“An’ he’s goin’ ter lose his leg?”
Lodie asked, slowly. “Et’s goin’ ter be
reyther hyard on ther gal as well a.3
Johnsing, ’pears ter me. Who’ll take
care of ’em, I'd like ter know?”
“They’ll be taken care of,” young
Green replied, quietly, a touch of color
in his face to hear these rough men
speaking of these things in regard to
such a woman as Dolores Johnson.
“But it Is doubtful about ‘ Johnson
having to be taken care of many
days.”
Mrs. Jones came to the door and
spoke to him. His supper was ready
if he cared to have it then.
As he arose to obey the summons
Tom Smith asked, gruffly, it might
be out of bravado to hide his real
feelings:
“Ef Johnsing dies what ’bout ther
trial ower yander, jedge?”
Green faced him with a look the
men never forgot, as he replied,
sharply:
“What is a mare’s life to that of a
man, Smith? You had best let that
matter drop till this is settled.”
(To be continued.)
IS HIS OWN GRANDFATHER.
Neapolitan With Most Strangely Mix
ed Lineage.
Beppo Bruzoni, a Neapolitan sailor,
is a living proof of the fact that a
man tan be his own grandfather.
“I married,” he said, “a widow, and
she had by first husband a handsome
girl named Silvietta, with whom my
father fell Ira love and who became
fiis second wife. Thus my father be
came my son-in-law and my step
daughter became my mother, since
she had married my father. Soon af
terwards my wife gave birth to a son,
who became my father’s step-brother
and at the same time my uncle, since
he was my step-mother’s brother.
“But that was not all, for in due
time my father’s wife also gave birth
to a boy, who was my brother arid
also my step-son, since he was the
son of my daughter. My wife was also
my grandmother, and thus I was my
wife’s husband and at the same time
her grandson. -Finally, as the husband
of a person’s grandmother is naturally
that person’s grandfather, I am my
own grandfather.”—Household Words,
The True American Spirit,
ft is a genuine refreshment to the
soul nowadays to meet a man who
says: “I Want work and it does nst
iiStter what it is, so long as it is hon
est and fairly paid for!” There are
men whose courage and nobility were
never suspected when they were pros
perous, who, when adversity came up
on them, threw off their coats and
pride and are working at Jobs they
used to give as favors to other man.—
Atlanta Constitution.
i
IS IT AN AGREEMENT?
THE PROTECTIVE TARIFF CON
SIDERED AS A CONTRACT.
Hava Not the Government and the
People Entered Into a Covenant
That All Labor and Industry Shall
Enjoy the Benefits of Protection?
With satisfaction the American
Economist observes the attention de
voted by the New York Tribune of
July 25 to the suggestion that before
taking action on the pending Cuban
reciprocity treaty Congress will do
well to carefully consider and accur
ately weigh certain important argu
ments against the consummation of
that project. The Tribune had commit
ted itself to the opinion that there
was nothing to consider in this con
nection; that the case was all settled
and the legislation necessary to start
the reciprocity wheels "should take
no time at all.” It seems, however,
to have discovered that there was one
phase of the question worthy of at
least momentary thought, for in a
leading editorial article of consid
erable length it goes to the trouble of
taking issue with the position of the
Economist. The subject, to be sure,
is treated in a flippant, sour and super
ficial manner; but it is better that it
should be treated in this way than not
treated at all. Among the points sub
mitted by the Economist for consider
ation by Congress at the extra session
to be called Nov. 9 for Anal action on
the Cuban treaty was the following:
“Does it not Involve the violation by
the government of a contract of agree
ment with certain producing interests
of the United States—namely, the
Dingley tariff law?”
This suggestion, as is evident on its
face, was put forward tentatively, not
as an assertion of law or fact, but
with a view to drawing attention to
the question of moral obligation on
the part of our own government
toward our own people. So much has
been heard as to our moral obligation
toward the people of Cuba that it
would seem only fair to take some ac
count of the duty which the govern
prcme court on that ground In their
endeavors to escape taiatlon on the
value of their franchises. It is some
thing new. however, to find the tax
laws themselves construed as a con
tract and therefore not subject to
change. Jest the constitutional rights
of citizens be invaded.”
It Is something new, surely, to find
a protectionist newspaper referring to
the Dingley tariff as a “tax law" and
taking no account of its operation as
a protective measure. But that is not
the sorest point with the Tribune.
Again in the fashion of its free trade
contemporaries it dips its pen into
vinegar and gall and in response to
the tentative suggestion as to rights
under a covenant of agreement it de
clares :
“If the Dingley law was a contract
'with certain producing interests,’ then
it must have been passed in payment
of some supposed debt. The ‘producing
interests’ in question must have paid
Something, for it.
“A contract Implies consideration.
What ‘producing interests' rendered
valuable consideration which gives
them a right to look on a law of the
Unitad States as a contract which the
United States has no right to revise
at will? What was the consideration?
To whom was it rendered? What are
the secret clauses which give what is
on its face a mere tax law the charac
ter of a contract? ‘Certain producing
Interests’ have a contract with the
United States, have they?—a contract,
not that they shall be taxed only at a
certain rate, or shall not be taxed at
all, but that somebody else shall be
taxed for their benefit? For how long
does this contract run? Have the
‘certs in producing interests' acquired
a perpetual lien on the country by the
passage of a contract instrument es
tablishing an unchangeable tax? What
claim had the ‘producing interests’ on
the lawmakers to Induce the creation
of such an astonishing obligation,
amounting to the sale and alienation
of the government’s future legislative
power?”
We had not supposed that any Re
publican newspaper would allow its
zeal in behalf of tariff tinkering by
reciprocity treaty to carry it so far
mnf I
ment owes to those of our own pro
ducers who claim equal rights with
other domestic producers to the pro
tection guaranteed them by law'. The
Dingley tariff law is in the nature of
a covenant between the government
and the people. It is rather more than
that. It is the mandate of the people
framed into law and promulgated by
their servants, the Senators, Repre
sentatives of the United States Con
gress and the President of the United
States—a mandate that must remain
In full force until revoked by the peo
ple, through their servants, in the
same manner and by the same process
by which it was originally placed upon
the statute books. The manner and
the process are clearly defined in that
clause of the Constitution which pro
vides that all legislation affecting the
revenue shall originate In the House
of Representatives. In the case of
the Cuban treaty this process has
been reversed. Legislation affecting
the revenue by a reduction of 20 per
cent in tariff duties has originated in
the Senate and now goes to the House
for final concurrence. This is why
the proposed amendment of the Ding
ley law is characterized as irregular
and unconstitutional; this is why it
has been suggested that the Dingley
law should stand as a covenant be
tween the government and the people
until it shall have been in whole or
in part abrogated by the people.
The suggestion as to equity and
good faith _n the part of the govern
ment toward domestic producers
seems to have irritated the Tribune
into a frame of mind not conducive to
calm and logical discussion. It has so
nettled the journal founded by Horace
Greeley, Protectionist, that it employs
phrases and methods of expression
which are curiously similar to the vein
in which free trade writers assail the
doctrine and policy of protection. “The
tariff is a tax,” these free trade propa
gandists have been telling us for
many years. Evidently the Tribune of
to-day, unlike the Tribune of Horace
Greeley’s time, holds the same view.
It says:
“The obligation of contract is often
invoked by corporations to avoid new
taxes. The franchise holders of New
York are just now appealing to the Su
beyond the border line of fair and
courteous controversy: we had not ex
pected to goad our neighbor into the
vicious free trade flings embodied in
the extracts just quoted. Not forget
ting that the Tribune was among the
first and fiercest champions of Mr.
Havemeyer’s benevolent theory oi
“moral obligation,” and that it has
fought strenuously and Incessantly for
the realization of the Sugar trust
dream of cheaper raw sugar from
Cuba as a means of destroying the
competition of domestic cane and beet
sugar, we were not prepared for quite
so much heat and temper. It is an
exhibition of strenuosity that seems
to denote much pressure and strong
urgency in behalf of Cuban reciproci
ty. Viewed in this light the episode
is at once suggestive and instructive.
After all, is not the Dingley tarlfi
very muck in the nature of a contract
of agreement to which there are two
parties, the government and the peo
ple? Have not the people and the
government entered into an agreement
that all domestic labor and industry—
not merely a part—shall enjoy the
blessings and benefits of protection?
There can be no contract without a
consideration, says the Tribune. True..
Then what was the consideration, and
who paid it in the case of the Dingley
law? The consideration was loss oi
employment, hunger, privation and the
drawing down of vast sums of money
out of savings banks attendant npon
the terrible period of tariff reform
from 1893 to 1897, and it was paid by
the wage earners of the United States,
by the farmers of the United States
who lost $5,000,000,000 in depreciation
of values of farm products and farm
properties, and by every person who
suffered the pangs of Wilson-Gorman
ism. The wage earners and the pro
ducers of this country paid a high
price for the Dingley tariff. It is
theirs by right of purchase. Who hae
the right to take it away from them
without their consent being first had?
Argument Is Wasted.
To wage earners: When a man tells
you that free trade is a good thing foj
you, coax him into an alley and teU
him he is a fool.—Davenport (la.) Re
publican.
Wheat as Horse Feed.
Wheat as food for horses was test*
ed at the North Dakota Experiment
Station. The results are published In
Bulletin No. 20 of that station. The
wheat was fed at the rate of 14
poundB daily, and the horses were
given an average day’s work. It was
found that wheat alone was not a
satisfactory grain ration for a work
horse. There was a tendency for the ‘
horses to get “off feed" and for the
digestion to become deranged. No
tests are reported where wheat
formed a part of the grain ration for
work horses; upon this point, Dr.
Salmon, of the Bureau of Animal In
dustry, U. 8. Department of Agricul
ture, gives suggestions in a circular
of information Issued in 1894.
“There are certain points to be
borne in mind when one is commen
cing to feed wheat. Our domesti- >
cated animals are all very fond of it,
but are not accustomed to eating it
Precautions should consequently be
observed to prevent accidents and dis
ease from its use. It is a matter of
common observation that when full
fed horses are changed from old to
new oats they are liable to attacks of
indigestion, colic and fouuder. If
such results follow the change from
old to new oats, how much more
likely are they to follow a radical
change, such as that from oats to
wheat? For this reason, wheat should
at first be fed in small quantities. It
should, when possible, be mixed with
some other grain and care should be
taken to prevent any one animal from
getting more than the quantity in
tended for it ‘These precautions are
especially necessary when wheat is
fed to horses, as these animals are
peculiarly liable to colic and other
disturbances of the digestive organs,
accompanied or followed by lamlnltls.
Cattle, sheep and hogs frequently
crowd each other from the feeding
troughs, in which case some individ
uals obtain more than their share,
and may bring on serious or fatal at
tacks of Indigestion. The best form In
which to feed wheat is to roll or grind
it into a coarse meal. It may then
be fed alone, or mixed with corn
meal or ground oats. When ground
fine it is pasty and adheres to the
teeth, gums and cheeks so that lt> is
not so readily masticated or eaten.
Cost of Pasteurizing.
Experiments conducted at the Royal
Experiment Station in Copenhagen
prove that If a pasteurizer Is properly
constructed and properly operated It
will require about 90 lbs of steam for
heating 1,000 pounds of milk, from 90
to 185 degrees F., says M. Mortenson.
If we figure that it takes one pound
of coal to produce four pounds of
steam, to produce ninety pounds of
steam will then require 23 poundB of
coal. Figuring coal at $4.00 per ton
and our butter yield 4% pounds but
ter to 100 pounds milk, makes the cost
of pasteurizing one pound of butter
about one-tenth of a cent. This ex
pense, however, Is reduced consider
ably by pasteurizing the cream and
skimmed milk separately. The cream
Is reduced to such a small amount
that the expense per pound will be
very little. For pasteurization of
skimmed mlllc the exhaust steam can
be used; this Is also more satisfactory
to the patrons as milk when pasteur
ized after skimming is warm enough
to scald the cans and the milk keeps
sweet longer.
Argentine Corn Crop.
The Minister of Agriculture of Ai
gentina estimates the corn crop of
this year, now harvested, at 148,000,
000, which was grown on 4,436,167
acres of land. Last year the area un
der maize amounted to 3,473,746 acres
and the total crop to 84,018,341 bush
els, the average yield being then 24.2
bushels per acre. The increase was
27.7 per cent in the area, 39 per cent
In the average yield per acre, and 76.7
per cent In the total crop. The quan
tity of maize available for exportation
this year Is not likely to be quite in
proportion to the magnitude of the
crop produced, as a considerable
amount was damaged by wet weather
and a portion of the crop was lost for
want of adequate labor to gather it
while In good condition. In many
cases cattle were turned into the
fields to eat the standing corn, owing
to the Impossibility of geting labor
to harvest It in time.
A Test for Buttermakers.
We must make the business of but
termaklng more attractive, not only
as to the place where we have to
work, but in wages as well, and in
order to do this I believe that a
compulsory examination of candidate^
for creamery buttermakers before a
duly constituted board of examiners,
similar to the examination which
doctors, dentists and lawyers have to
undergo before being able to prac
tice, would (it seems to me) weed out
some of the incompetents, and thus
by raising the standard of qualifica
tions enable those who really desire
to make buttermaking a life work to
enter the ranks confident that they
can make of themselves as much in
this their chosen line as other men in
theirs.—J. S. Moore.
The egg-plant is of tropical origin,
and was Introduced into England from
Africa in 1697. It derives its common
name from a small white variety simi
lar in shape and appearance to the egg
of a goose.