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About The news-herald. (Plattsmouth, Neb.) 1909-1911 | View Entire Issue (Oct. 28, 1909)
r- n.wmr -i-- . j w m i mir wr . . . . . . j U til-MNE fMiaA-PATEIOTM I Affl tfw-"'- 6 ,lgllt wasn,t Kod 011 the ((rvlWS uyf HNGTON AND rti3 rS&3Mvv.T afternoon In mind and all that one Vtt, . rwJ wo y ,'5aaMBM'''"1 ''"SV A' 'jfY "ffi ' W pilgrim could make out of a book's SgZ- " itf "Na Vfl M Iti tffl VJ tl,le' nbove which was written IHr I of "Ivnnhoe." Isaac the JII7JL J UM 2 I, ""V , 1 knows i't'ls thecUom ifflffljSSSfeT IXiJT;' "!-iT .tffll 1 1 I pi;iiWPiiiili IS 1 w cr, cpbho!" SII1NGT0N.-Inthe novel of "Ivnnlioe," Isaan the Jew U'IIh the knifiht that ho knows it is the cimtom of the ChrlHtiaiiH to put on pilgrims' garb and to walk barefooted for miles to worship dead men's bones. There is something of a sneer in Isaac's tone and Ivanhne rebukes him with a truly heroic, "Dlasphem- I don't know how many thousands of Americans go yearly to Mount Vernon to pay a visit to the re pository of a dead man's bones, but the number is something enormous. If George Washington never had lived at Mount Vernon, never had vis ited there, never hnd died there, and had been hurled in the antipodes there would be excuse enough for the visits to the place of seventy times seven the number of the pilgrims who go yearly down the Potomac to stand on the toweling hill nnd to look off down the valley. It Is with an utter shnmo that It Is confessed that after four years' residence lu Washington one man Amorican born and with some lurk ing prldo of patriotism In his make up never until recently went to the place where the father of his coun try and the exponent of the American school teacher's Ideal of truth lies liurled. Mount Vernon Is the ultimate ob ject or the voyage down the Potomac. There are other objects every paddle wheel stroke of the way, for the hills on either side are hills of rare beauty crowned with trees that saw the rev olution; and that In the fall are wear ing the raiment which belongs to the kings of the forest. On the boat going down there was a young Ocrmnn gentleman, who had married ai American wifo. He was much more interested In the beauty of the Potomac's banks and in the Mstory of the country beyond the Imnks and in the llf0 history of George Washington than was she. The German asked his American wife If George Washington was born at Mount Vernon. siu. answered that ne was; wnich he wasn't, not many, miles. lie asked her ntlinr muct?nio . i. . iu i-urn anu every One of which lint uitl. ,,..i.. . , ' . " iiineeiir.irv .h huh was a travel..,) a,, u . nun i it ail well-grounded belief that her Ge by many ... ,. ---- ... ,v t.xv. -uxonM km 1 1i.k-''"t.lolJ. Kf V Jv lift "-t ..'.v.j v-rfw a i' Wii .t '.i'M.v wi.j .;.-. w iniido answers. girl. There Is a fairly she met and enptitated ' " auimle lor ....... nyu..m (U0 itnine. Some day. perhaps-vedy likely, n fact-she wl I go back to her husband's land and will isten to his telling f his American trip, and In the enthusiasm of the nature which he made manifest on the Potomac he will tell the "his toric truths" concerning George Washington Which he Jeamed from his American wife. It may be that tome of the Germans who know something of the life of the American gen eral who was the friend and fellow soldier of Steuben will come to think, as some Americans have tome to think before this, that a little American .history might he Included In the course of study nf the average American girl, and that not a dollar should be spent on her passage money UxKumpe until she knows without stop ping to think whether it was George Washington or Abraham Lincoln who crossed the Delaware, and who, something later, forced the surrender of Cornwallis at Vorktown. This may seem to 1)0 a in:iUer that is beside the mark, but, while the listener had none too thorough a knowledge of American history, there were some things paid on the boat plying down the Potomac that if they had been said by an eighth-grado school joy ought to have brought him a flogging. Mount , Vernon has been written about by pretty lier.rly everybody who has seen the place. It hasn't fallen to the lot of everybody to see It in the fall. It is a iw'-lo place, a fitting resting ground for the first American. It seldom falls to man's lot to Bee such he roic trees. There is a giant oak which stands Bcntlncl oyer the first burial place of Washing ton. The body was removed from the base of the oak about 7." years ago. It never should have been removed. It is said that Washington selected the place where his body now lies and left instructions that one day the change of sepulcher should be made. The oak which guarded the first grave must have been standing for three centuries. Th view from the place is Inspiring enough to er.kindle the eyes of a dead man. The view from the new tomb is line In Its way, but It Is as noth ing to the grand sweep of river, hilltops nnd for ests which moves before the eye from the place where Washington slept for 30 years. Hundreds of visitors go to Mount Vernon daily. They peer Into the tomb and then straightway go to the house. There Is an Inter est, of course, which must attach to any of the belongings of Washington, but It seems to be a legitimate matter of regret that of the thousands who go to Mount Vernon the Interest In the mir ror which Washington used when ho shaved nnd lu the spoon with which he ate his porridge, if lie ate porridge, Is far greater than lu the forest trees under which he walked and In the garden whose hedges of formal cut were planted with his own hand. Indoors at Mount Vernon everything Is dead; outdoors everything Is alive. The forest and garden are instinct with Washington; the con tents of the house are as duBt. There is a real Interest, however, In the library of the old home. In the main the books are simply copies ot those which were on the shelves in Washington's time. The originals, as I understand It, are In several libraries of the country. There ore two originals, however, which are open at the title page, so that If the light be good, one may read Washington's name written In his own band and the title of the book word "Sentimental." The wonder was, and the poor light was responsible for Its remain ing a wonder. If the father of his country had not In his quiet hours been reading "A Sentimental Jour ney." If the gentle Martha had peeped Into the pages and had re proved George because of what she saw there one can lmnglne his ready answer that the book was written by a holy priest of her own chosen church. The man with the megaphone on the Washington "rubberneck" wag ons tells his audience of passengers as they roll by the Metropolitan club house: "This Is the club of the nobs." In another minute, as the big sight seeing bus passes another clubhouse tho megaphone man says: "And this Is tho club of the cranks." "Tho club of the cranks," as this In formation howler calls It, is the Cos mos club, nnd a most Interesting or ganization it is. Its membership is com posed of scientists, some physicians nnd clergymen, a few lawyers and newspaper men. The scientists are two or three In the great majority. It costs a pretty penny to Join the Metropolitan club and to pay tho dues and to live the life of the organization. The initiation fee at the Cosmos club is rather small, and the dues are light, but there nro scores of members of the Metropolitan club, "the club of the nobs," who willingly would pay twice or thrico the Metropolitan's Initiation fee and tho Metropolitan's dues if the expenditure could gain them admission to the club where the "cranks" foregather. Kvery Monday flight Is .called "social night" at the Cosmos club. Of course the clubhouse is open at all times, but on Monday evening the members make a special effort to be present and there Is always a large gathering in the great, sweeping rooms of the house where once lived Dolly Madi son. They don't Intrude "shop" upon you in the Cosmos club. The members are a genial body of men and they have many guests from all parts of the world. They And out what the guest likes to talk about and then some one who knows the sub ject is promptly Introduced to him. There are few world subjects upon which you cannot get an expert opinion In the Cosmos club. The members, of course, have their hobble and they ride them. In one corner of a room there will bo an astronomical group, and there will be another corner with a fluh group and another cor ner with a bird group and another comer with, It may be, a mushroom group. It Isn't all science, however, lu tho Cosmos club. The members pla billiards and pool and bridge, and they have a fine time ot it generally and at no -great expense, foi It is one ot the hard facts of earth that men de voted to science have little money.. Learning doesn't bring high pay In the market. ' By GEORGE T. PARDY (Copyright, by W. Q. Chapaiau.) It would bo a difficult matter to say just what started the argument between Alice Ray and her fiance, Koland Everett. They simply differed on a point of view, and as both were self-willed, neither cared to admit be ing in fault. ' "You are absurd, Koland," said the girl, petulantly. "Just because I don't agree with you, I'm to be accused of selfishness and obstinacy. If anyone is obstinate it certainly is yourself." "Very likely," responded her lover, dryly. "Perhaps we'd better not talk of the matter any more." The two young people were seated have given each other a deadly wound have insulted our love have tram pled a holy thing In the dust." The hours slipped by and at last Alice aroused herself. She sat up, feeling absently at the fourth linger of her left hand. She started as sho realized what she was looking for. "Even my finger misses him," sho whispered, with a pitiful smile. Iiehlnd the house a narrow, w inding path made its way between the apple trees and past a yellow field of rye, through a green wood, and over a brook by a rustic bridge. Heyond that point it wandered on, with many a on the veranda of a country house, lovely turn, giving now and again an charmingly embowered in creeping vines and commanding a wide view of tho Hudson river and the mighty hills through which it winds. The summer air was full of the fragrance of new-mown hay, and the drowsy murmur of insects lulled the ear, while ever and anon a thrush by tho brook rippled into mellow song. Everything spoke of peace except tho two In whoso hearts, by right, tho perfecting glory of love should have given the culminating touch, for they were engaged. Yet it so happened that a dispute, trilling in itself, had become magnllied and embittered, aft er the sad human way, until both the man and girl were in a state where any moment might bring forth some act or word which the rest of their lives would be spent regretting. Aft er Roland's last remark there was si lence for several minutes. He leaned back In his chair and looked grimly down at the river. While Alice, having turned from him with a swift move ment, stared nervously across the hills and blinked tho tears from her eyes. When she spoke It was with a meas ured coldness which hid the hurried beating of her heart. "If we have only been engaged a week, and have already found a topic on which we must be silent for fear of qua'rellng, I think there surely must be something wrong." "If you can say such a thing as that, Alice, there surely Is," replied her lover, hoarsely. "Then then there's nothing to do but " She stopped abruptly and glanced at Roland. Rut ke still stared She Started as She Realized She Was Looking For. What at the river and scarcely seemed to have heard her. She sprang to her feet and an angry color dyed her cheeks. "I'm sorry I'vo been so slow to un derstand you, Roland," sho exclaimed. "It's evident we are not suited to each other. Tho best we can do is Is to forget we've ever been engaged." Roland stood up and looked at her, pale as sho was flushed. "Do you mean our engagement is broken?" he asked. "Here Is your ring!" and she tore it off and handed it to him. "If your love for me cannot stand a slight disagreement, Alice, doubtless you ure right." He looked at the ring and then put it slowly in his pocket. Alice turned away and began to arrange magazines on a table. A moment or two passed. Then Roland, without another word, strode down the veranda steps and mounting his horse, which stood hitched at the foot, galloped off. Alice listened to the beat ot the hoofs until they died away. Then she went slowly Into tho house and up to her room. She felt as though she were carrying a great weight, and almost staggered as sho reached her door. Tears blinded her as she entered. The perfume of tho roses he had brought her that morning sweetenod the air. There stood his photograph, manly, handsome, with tho siullu in bis eyes that she knew so well. "Roland, Koland, Roland!" she sobbed nnd threw herself Into a big arm-chair In a pnsslon of tears. "How can it have happened? What was the matter with us? You know I love you, Roland yes, nnd I know you love mo. And yet If we hnd hated each other we couldn't have been more cruel. Can't a love like ours cast out misunderstanding and vanity and sel fishness? I would die glndly if my death could Bavo him from pain. And yet I could not yield a worthless point to him to him who is worth more than the whole world to me. We did sot mean what we said and yet we chanting glimpse of the great river, ntll, a mile or more farther, it joined he highway. It had been the custom of the lovers to meet at the little bridge every evening, and then to saunter along the path, and home by a short cut across the golf links. Alice knew that the hour when she generally started for the trystlng place was at haud, knew, hesitated, and finally arose. "He won't be there to-night," sho murmured, "and I think my heart will break; but I will ge I cannot stay away." The shadows were long under tho apple trees as she walked out and the robins fluted Joyously. The even ing seemed too lovely to belong to earth. Meant for heaven, it had some how lost its way nnd dropped, by a fortunate chance, on our world. Aa Alice moved slowly along the fragrant path, seeing In the sky the wonderful ever changing shades of rose and green and purple, hearing music from a hundred happy birds, breathing the balmy air, an indescribable peace en tered her troubled heart. What though anger and misunderstanding lay be hind? She knew it was all right now. Roland would be walling for her, wait ing with a look of perfect comprehen sion, and she would not even need to speak. Dut speak she would, and as she never had before to tell him how deep, how great her love was, and that never more should a shadow dar ken it. Never, never! The birds sang always more sweetly, and the wind among the branches made tender har monies that chimed with the love in her heart. And now she passed the yellow grain, and now entered the woods, and there, Indeed, midway on the bridge, where the sun sent a mellow gleam through the overarching branches, stood her lover awaiting her. A wave of happiness surged over her, taking her breath for an Instant. Sho stopped and then ran forward with hands out stretched, calling in a voice low but of piercing tenderness: "My dearest, I knew that I should find you I knew you would be here. If you had not, I think I should have died." In a moment they were in each other's arms, and at his kiss tho last faint doubt or lingering veil of bit terness, if any there was, passed ut terly out of Alice's heart, and it seemed to her that in that instant for the first time she knew happiness supreme, divine. "Have you waited long, Roland?" she asked. "Not long, dear." "And you forgive me?" "The fault was as much mine aa yours, Alice," he whispered. "And, after all, there is nothing real except our love." With their arms about each other they sauntered on down the path. Tho dying radiance of the sun made a glory about them, the trees whispered and swayed over their heads, and it seemed to Alice as though she scarce ly touched tho ground. What indeed was real beside their love? Theso lovely thing3 about her these singing birds and fragrant flowers and mur muring leaves they were only a sort of picture, a reflection of the happl- ness In her heart. As long as this beautiful happiness lasted and she felt as though it could never end so long too would this delightful, blos soming world surround them. It must always be glorious summer where they two were! How He Made a Cuddle. A gentleman went Into a plpema ker's shop with the Intention of see ing tho method of making pipes. The proprietor, who was a Scotchman, had arrived from Edinburgh a few weeks ago. When the Phlladelphlan got In the shop he found only a boy back of the counter, so without more ado he thus addressed him: "Well, my callant, I'll give you a quarter if you show mo how you make your pipes." "I canna mak' a peer, sir," replied tho lad. "I ca' only mak' a cuddle." "A cuddle! What's that, my hln uey?" "It's a short peep," replied the boy, "sic us men and women smoke oot on." "I'll give you a quarter if you show me how to make that." "die's yer quarter furst," was the reply. The gentleman gave the boy the quarter, and he took a long pipe and broke a piece off it, saying: "There, now sir, that is the way I mak' cuddles." Philadelphia Times. V