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About Plattsmouth weekly journal. (Plattsmouth, Neb.) 1881-1901 | View Entire Issue (Aug. 23, 1894)
pnttsmoutli Journal C W. SnEIIK.l?.. roblUUrr. TLAlTsMOiJIIL nfj.ii: ask P. 7 kW Tears lere wa s id brick staud- ing1 in the midst of a sweet old gar den, on one of the pleaii- antest sites or the famous Kiehmona hill. It had once been the residence of a noble family, but it was at that time only a celebrated school for young ladies. The house itself was a plair.. substantial brick one, and there were plenty in the vicinity that in ever;.' point excelled it; but nowhere, was there a pardon of greater loveli ness than its high brick walls shut in. This was especially so in the morn ing's and evenings, when the allej-s and the hazel walks and the woodbine arbors were full of groups of beautiful young- English girls girls with flow ing brown hair and eyes as blue and clear as heaven, and faces innocent and fresh as if each face had been made out of a rose. Hut even where all are beautiful, some one will be found loveliest of all. and Laura Fal coner was the acknowledged belle of the upper class. She was nineteen years of age, but the still lingered at Mme. Mere's school, partly because it had been her only home for five years and partly because her guardian considered it to be the best place for her until she was twenty-one, when she would receive her fortune and become her own mis tress. So Laura remained at madarna's, studying; a little, but ttill having a much larger amount of liberty thin that granted to the other pupils. This liberty permitted her to shop with a proper escort and also to pay frequent visits to acquaintances resident in Hichmoud and London. On one of these excursions she had met Ernest Trelawny, and it is of this gentleman she is so confidentially talking to her chief friend, as they wall: in the loneliest part of the gar den together. "I am so glad. Clara, that we met him this afternoon; 1 wanted you so touch to see Ernest. Is he not hand some?"' "1 never saw such eyes, Laura! And figure! And his stylish dress! Oh, I thhik he is so grand and so well, so mysterious-looking, as if he were a poet or something." "And then his conversation, Clara! lie talks as I never heard any one else tall; so romantic, dear!' "Oh. I think you must be a very "happy girl. Laura! 1 often wish 1 had some one to love me as Earnest loves you."' Laura sighed and looked up senti mentally. "You have a father and mother, Clara. I am quite alone. Ernest say that is one reason he at first felt as ii he must love me." "What would Mme. Mere say?" ''Madame must not know for the world. Clara. She would write to my guardian. Oh, Clara, I am going1 to tell you a great secret! Ernest and I "have determined to run away to Gretna Green and get married." "Oh-h-h-h! Laura, how dare you? "Madame will be sure to find it out. She never looks as if she knew things, but she always does. When are you poirg?" "To-night. Ernest will be waiting with a carriage at the end of the gar den well. I have bribed cook to leave the kitchen door unlocked, and I Bhall go through her room and down the back stairs." Thus, until the nine o'clock bell rang, the two girls talked over and over tWe I IIAA E HAD A DREAM, DEAR 6IlO ame subject and never found it weari orne. and when they bade each other good night in the long corridor it -as a very meaning one. They were Dth greatly impressed with the ro auce of the situation, and timid littlo ara envied and admired her friend, id could not sleep for listening for e roll of a carriage and the parting -nal which Laura had agreed to .ke on her friend's door as she .sed it. "hen Laura made her few prepara is and sat down in the moonlight to t for the hour. She thought 'ier favorite heroines who had ea d a similar part, and tried to feel hey were asserted to have felt. Ialf-past eleven!" e rose and laid her bonnet and tie ready, but, in spite of her ro .ie situation, she was really d and unl'appy and conscious of ;t unnatural depression of spirits, t then the door opened softly, ladame Mere, with a candle In ago tc . house. Cm mX L ' vv -' A flu v 4 Aw? '( A Total 3142,811.20 Tbe"Plan Sifter"fiouns tee popular From a perusal it will be seen that' brand. Ask for it from voii jerocer. her hand, entered the room. She was a very small, slight woman, with a grave, lovable face and a pair of won derful eyes. In their calm, clear light lay the secret of her power over the fifty girls whom she ruled absolutely with a glance or a smile. She came gliding in more like a spirit than a woman, and putting the light down, said: "Laura, I have had a dream, dear girl a dreadful dream and I am afraid. Let me stay here with you." So she sat down and began in a low, trembling voice to tell of Laura's dead mother: of her pure lofty womanhood, and of her love of her child. Laura scarcely heard her; the time was going faster, it was close upon midnight, she must make an effort at once. So, dur ing a moment's pause, she said: "Will madame try to sleep now?" "Yes, I will put out the light, and we will both try." "First, will madame permit me to go to Clara's room? I have left my things there. I shall not disturb anyone." In a moment madame's attitude changed; her eyes scintillated with light; all the caressing tenderness and sorrow of Iier voice and manner were gone. She was like an accusing spirit. '"Down on your knees, false girl, whom no memory of mother's love could soften! Down on your knees, and let your prayers strengthen the hands of those good angels who are fighting your evil genius this very mo ment! l'ray as those should pray whose purity and honor, whose very life and salvation hang upon a villain's word!" And, drawing the girl down beside her, she watched out ith her those dangerous midnight hours. At 2 o'clock Laura was left to weep out alone her shame and her disap pointment. Madame had kissed and forgiven and comforted her with such comfort as was possible; but youth takes hardly the breaking of its idols, and it was bitter and humiliating to hear that this handsome Ernest was better known to the police courts than to the noble houses he talked about, and yet that she had chosen his soci ety and had been- willing to become his wife. Madame had notspared her; she had spoken plainly of a gambler's wife and of a thief's home of shames and horrors Laura trembled to recall adding: "I had willingly kept you ignorant of such things, for the knowledge of them takes the first bloom of purity from a good girl's heart; but, ala. Laura, if you will go forbidden roads, you must at least be warned of the sju and the sorrows that haunt them." Laura was ill many days afterward. Madame had indeed forgiven her, but it was hard to forgive herself, and for a long time even a passing memory of her first lover brought a tingling blush of shame to her cheeks and a sickening sense of disgrace and fright to her heart. It was ten years after this event, and Laura, with her two daughters, was driving slowly across Cannock chase. The pretty children sat on either side of her, and she drove the ponies slow ly, often stopping to let the little girls alight and pull a bluebell or a handful of buttercups. During one of these stoppages, as she sat, with a smile on her handsome face, watching the hap py little ones, some one, coming from behind, touched her rudely on the arm. She turned and saw a man in grimmy leather clothing, with an evil, cruel face, at her side. Supposing him to be one of the men employed in her husband's iron works, who had been discharged or who wanted help, she said: "Well, what is it, sir?" The man answered curtly: "Laura!" Then Laura looked steadily into the dirty imbruted face. And in spite of soot and scars and bruises, she knew it. "Mr. Trelawny, why do " "liosh! My name is Bill Yates. You fooled me once, my lady, but you will pay me for it now. I've been lagged since then sent across for seven years only got back six months since. Glad 1 have found you, for I won't work any more now. Come, I want a fiver to start with." "A 'fiver?' " "Yes; a five-pound note." "I shall not give you a penny." 'Then I shall take one of them lit tle girls the youngest is the pretti est" "For God's sake, don't go near my children! I will give you the money." "I prefer the money, it will save me the trouble of selling the child to the mere gypsies." Laura hastily counted out the sum; there was seven shillings more in her purse, and the villain said: "I'll take the change, too. Shall I lift the children into the phaeton?" "Don"t touch them! Don't look at them! Oh, go away! Go away!" "Go away, indeed! You were glad enough once to come to me. I have your letters j et. It would be a sweet thing to show them to your husband." '"You had better murder me." "I have half a mind to; but it suits me better to keep you for my banker. JVi here next week with five pounds seven shillings, and every week after, until further notice, or else I will steal your child and send them letters to your fine husband." Then, with a threatening scowl and the shake of a clenched fist in her face, lie went away, taking with him all the joy and peace out of poor Laura's life. She now lived in constant terror, ad such a dreadful change came so rapidly over the once happy, hand some woman that her husband was exceedingly anxious, both for her heulta and her reason. What did she Ct with the unusually large sums of money she asked him for? Why did she go out riding alone? Why would she aoi suffer her children to leave their own grounds? Why could she no sleep at night? Why was her once even, sunny temper become so Irri table? Why did she search his fare so eagerly every night? These and twenty other anxious, suspicious questions passed through his mind continually, but he hoped that by ignoring1 the ohange it would d Isappear. Alas! Things got yrorse and worse, and one day, after ten miserable months, he was sent for from the works in haste. Laura was raving and shrieking in the wildest paroxysm of brain ftver. "Where are the children? Save them from that man! Henry, please take him five pounds no, he wants ten pounds now, and I can't get it!" In such piteous, moaning ejacula tions she revealed the secret terror that was killing her. But perfect love casts out fear and jealousy, and Laura's husband did her no injustice. Tenderly he nursed the poor, shattered wife and mother back to life again, though it was an almost hopeless task with that nameless hor ror ever beside her. One night, when 6he was a little stronger, he led heron to talk of the past, and he was so lov ing and so pitiful that in a flood of life giving tears she poured out to him the whole miserable story. Then the burden fell from her life, and she dropped happily into the first sweet, healthy sleep she had had for nearly a year. She never asked again for her tormentor; she only knew that he had disappeared from South Staffordshire, and joy and peace came back to her heart and home. But one day. after the lapse of four years, she received a dirty, anonymous letter full of threats and insolent de mands for money. This time she went at once to her husband with the trouble. "Don't be frightened. Laura." he answered. "I know the fellow. He is one of a gang of four who have just come to Sackett village. He will be in jail before to-morrow night. This time he shall not escape my venge ance." Jle had scarcely finished speaking when a couple of men ran up to the house, crying: "Measter! Measter! nere be Dim mitt's height slewered away and there's a 'crowning in!"" The iron master leaped to his feet and was soon following the evil mes sengers to the village. He knew that Sackett was all undermined with pits and workings, and it was possible the whole village was in danger. The dis aster was right in the center of it, and he was not long In reaching the great .Sfca. J:'' rr t i ? '-l?w''3f''-v 4! THE MASTER LOOKED BLANKLY. yawning chasm, where the earth had given away and down which two cot tages, with their inhabitants had gone. As soon as the master appeared the pitmen and ironmen gathered round him, though all knew that succor or help was perfectly hopeless. "Where is Bumby?" "Here I be, measter." "What mine was under this?" "Dimmitt's, measter, worked out." "Is it deep?" "Six hundred feet." "Dry or wet?" "Deep water." The master looked blankly at the black abyss. "It's the third 'crowning in," i' my time. T' last were in to Cavill's mine. Six decent families went down at mid night; they were dashed to bits on t' rocks at bottom." "Do you know who lived in these two cottages?" "One were empty, thank God. Four strange lads that worked i' Sackett's mine, had t'other; they nobbut worked there a week, they wor glad to get shut on them at end of it." "Do you know their names?" 'I know, measter," said Michael Eaine, the publican, "for they owe me for a week's beer and 'bacca the score is set ag'n' John Todd, Tim Black and Bill Yates." " 'Bill Yates?' Are you sure?" "Sure to certain of that name, measter, for he said he wor come special to get upsides wi' you." Then the ironmaster turned thought fully home, and as he kissed his wife, said: "Bill Yates is dead, Laura. My rengeance has been taken from me by Him to whom vengeance belougeth. You may rest safely now, darling." "But, oh, Henry, what a destiny might have been mine!" "Don't say 'destiny,' Laura, Our choices are our destiny. Nothing is onrs that our choices have not made ours." This is a true story, and I tell it to many thousands of young girls with just as much earnestness as Laura told it to her daughters, to show them that clandestine love affairs are always highly dangerous; for a passion that is cradled in cTeceit is pretty sure to end in sin or shame or sorrow. Amelia E. Barr, in 2s. Y. Ledger. Kind Hearted Maiden (fishing for a stray penny in her purse) "1 suv i pose you poor blind people feel your misfortune keenly." Blind Mendicant "Yes, indeed. The Lord only knowi how I miss the pleasure of being able to look into the beautiful faces oi the handsome and Jovely ladies wha are kind enough to donate." Kind IIevted Maiden (fishing out a quarter "Here, poor fellow, take this. I'm sure you are deserving. " Arkansaw Thomas Cut. Lulu B. George, a wall paper de signer in New York, drew a Chinese pattern which proved so popular that SOO.OOO roUs of the paper have been old Tfctates senators by direct vote wmu people, and in the present cornpaign I necesHaW to delay the paper's rpcnmmcnd the nomination bv theltion. f SCHOOL AND CHURCH. -According to the Ca.'holic Herald, there are about 152.000 colored Catho lics, in the United States. A new porch and towers aie to be added to Trinity church, Bostoi?. an object for which the late Bishop Brocks left S'-MXK). George E. Hardy has been elected professor of English language and lit erature in the College of the City of New York. The number of educational institu tions of one kind or another in India is put down in Chambers' Cyclopedia (is'.e) at 131, tHW. Gen. Booth of the Salvation armv, p.nd his captains of either ex have been oilicially declared to be ministers i f religion within '.he meaning of the iaw. It is claimed that a college gradu ate's chances of obtaining a fair degree of eminence are as 2."() to 1 as compared with the men who have not been at college. It requires a sum of upward of 10, 000 a year, -voluntarily provided, to mantain and educate the 51)0 fatherless children of the Spurgeon orphans' homes. Stockwell. Dr. Buckley says he once attended a service in a Presbyterian church where everj- man present, except him self and the preacher, was asleep, and fevery woman was awake. A striking proof of the growth of the missionary spirit is seen in the fact that Australasia has recently sent missionaries to Ceylon, Africa. China and Japan. Chicago Standard. The recent parliamentary elections in Japan have resulted favorably to the friends of Chri.-t.'anity and the poli cy of encouraging foreigners. The fact of being a Christian has not oper ated unfavorably in the case of any candidate. A sister of the late Mr. Spurgeon preached twice recently to crowded congregations at the handsome church in Hampstead road, in connection with the service. Her manner is impressive, and she lears a personal resemblance to her eminent brother. The diplomas received by the re cent graduates of Kadciiffe college will some time possess great historic value. They are the first to bear the signature of the president of Havard. which they do in addition to that of Mrs. Agassiz, president of Uadcliffe. Rev. Sam Bettis. cowboy evan gelist, thus sums up the results of his recent revival at Bay City. Mich.: "I had over 3.000 conversions. l.'ZM old to pers signed the pledge, 8'2 was raised fr expenses. S"-00 clear for Sam, and 0,000 people were fed free meals."' The business college idea in educa tion, which has taken so firm a hold of the popular mind, is not a sudden growth, but is a natural development of the industrial conditions and re quirements of our time. The fact that our ordinary schools and colleges did not prepare for practical business life gradually became apparent, and thus the business school grew up to supply the deficiency. Seven Chaldean priests from east ern Turkey have come to this country to leg money for rebuilding a church in their native land. Some showed a letter of introduction, in very bad French, said to be from the bishop of Mesopotamia. Others claimed to te I'resbyterians. One said that he came from the city of Van. in Asia" Minor. At first there was some hesitancy about allowing them to land, as they ap peared to be very like paupers. They were, however, at last released. HE GOT THE PLUME. Bat lie s Not a IIppy Afterward as lie Had i;-eu. A ludicrous incident occurred in one of the prominent churches in this city on a recent Sunday which is liable to cool the churchgoing ardor of t he young man in the case and be a feature in the experience of the young lady that she will not soon forget. The young man, immaculate in a long coat, light creased trousers and s-potless lineu. was ushered to a seat directly in front of a bewitching and stylishly dressed young lady, on whose curly head reposed an elaborate and expensive model of milliner's art; the principal feature of which was a very large and beautiful plume. When the go:l dominie commenced his long prayer the young man's thoughts were evidently on his fair neighbor, and consequently he neglect ed to assume an attitude of reverence. Not so with the young lady. She immediately bowed her head on the back of the seat in front, and the plume of her hat brushed the rack of the young man's neck. Thinking it a fly, he trit to scare it away with his hand: but, like the cat, it ''came back"' with the per.'.ktc. a book agent, an 1 after several vain at tempts to keep it off his neck visions of centipedes, scorpions, tarantulas and other poisonous monsters filled his agonized mind. With desperation born of despair, he made one grand grab, secured the troublesome object, gave a quick, strong jerk and landed the gorgeous plume in his lap. Of course the young lady was sur prised unci indignant, and the young man .as so embarrassed that he forgot to apologize at the close of the service, Kochester (X. Y.) Democrat. OpptMcd to Coercion. The knight of rest slipped into the backyard as if he had been guilty of some otliense. and putting an empty tomato can out of sight under his tat tered coat, lie approached the portcul lis of the kitchen and tapped on it with his halidom. In response, a wiry-haired girl, with a towel tied around her head, made her appearance. 'Well?'' she said interrogatively, as she took his measure with her ear;le eye. "I just thorght I'd strike you for brer-kfast," he unswered apologetically. "We don't b:lieve in strikes in this neighborhood," she said emphatically i and sla-nmed the door with a bang that j knocked the dust out cf his toga De troit Freo Tress. I - Trtrthe ' FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. ROCKIN' CHAIR. There It seta beside the winder. Where it used f roi?k an' croak To the hefty weight o' motber Settln', daraiu' stockiu' feet. An' sxreet-smcllin' hcnevsu?l:les Straffijlo round the winder-place. But they've stopped a-si'tia' sucshiaa Oato mother's smiiin' face. Wicter snotrln's, summer ralaia's, Ealf a score has rained an' snowed Since the rockin'-chair set. lonesozicw Empty or its dear old load. Thno is. -when I set here quiet, 'Crost the room, an' seem to hew, Xat'ral-like. the stitidy creakin' Of the ro-kers to her chair. Then I look up sudJen. tiialrla Mother Eut 'a' pot back home, Eut the binder's aivrays empty. An' the chair sets there alone. Well. thT ain't no use o-fretiin'. An' I think somehow or 'nother. That thcro woa't be cvach more waltln Till I so cp homo to mother. An" I hope there's rockers yonder. For it won't seem homelike there To sco mother scttia' rcstm", Oa'.y in her roe 1:1a' chair. ' Anr.io IX. Ltonnell. in Once a TTeek. LEARNING TO SVViM. F-ist and Qtiickt Way tor Girls to Ac cjulre the A'oii!j:;ihm'iit. The best way to teach a boy to swim is to toss him over the side of a boat with a rope about his waist, and let him plunge end tumble in the water until he catches the movements of arms end legs that carry him lightly along the surface. A girl should be sent to swimming school if there is such a convenience in her town or city. Or if at the seaside many a girl who was never in the salt water before can quickly acquire this most graceful and serviceable accomplishment by a very simple method. A comfortable flannel bathing suit and a strong-armed brother or other companion who swims well Hi p. THE FIUST LESSOX. are the chief equipments for this prac tical beginning. AVade into the water until it is waist deep, and then ask your brother to put one arm under your body about the waist line and place his other hand un der your chin. Then lift your feet off the bottom and lie in the attitude shown in the picture. Uave never a bit of fear, you are well supported, your face is out of the water, and you will feel your body lifted up by it as though pushed from beneath- .Now, with arms and legs stretched to their full length, mke the first stroke. Draw your hands up to your chest, the finger tips nearly touching, the pslms turned out. Then sweep your hands out in the half circles through the wa ter until they stretch out straight on either side from your body. Your legs meanwhile must also be drawn up until your toes almost touch, then stretched out quickly, the feet fax apart. 'When your hands are drawn up against your chest yvr knees must be simultaneous- T1TJS ANGLE OF THE ITEAI WITH TITE WATER. ly crooked to bring your feet together and arms and legs propelled through the water at the same moment. Go through these movements for at least ten miEutes every day in the wa ter, having some one to hold you up and resting for a bit every two or three minutes. I'.y perhaps the fifth morn ing you will be able to be in the water with only your chin in your brother's hand. You are feeling by this time how buoyant the salt water is and you are beginning to trust it. After that you will feel yourself moving along an inch or two, and anyone's forefinger lightly pressing up will keep your head cp at the level shown in the picture. About the tenth morning you will be able to dispense with even a helping finger and will swim a few feet at a time. After that the old rule of prac- THE BTEOKE. tlce raakes perfect must be followed in order that you may learn to swim twenty yards at a stretch, which" 5s a fine feat for one's first summer in the water. To hasten your progress as a begin ner try to remember and follow closely these two or three simple rules, the vi olation of whlcli greatly rctar's one's progress: When in the water never open your mouth. Urea the through your Dose. Sever when learning to swim go in wniir over your waist in depth. Never go with any but a person who knows how to swim, who is kind and cautious, and who would not play pranks or practical jokes. Xever fail to go in every morning regularly. Never ha discouraged. Chicago In ter Ocean. publica-j by Ifoi which this can be accomplished is for the fair to be taken to Borne CHADS A3 MOWERS. Thej Harvest Crops of Rice wlta Theuf Powerful rinchcr. Terhaps you think that this can't bo done. Probably ii could not be done by anything except a crab; but crabs of all sorts are very queer fellows, and some of the sorts do most unex pected things. You know that crabs are amphibioua creatures that is, they can live both on the land and in the water. They usually divide their time about equally between the two. But there are also land crabs which, live on vegetable foods, and apparently prefer to pass most, if not all, of their time on the land, and that not always of a swampy nature. At any rata, one kind of crab haa been found in great numbers on table lands 4, C00 feet above the sea level, and v. r s THE EEAriXQ CRAB OF HIXDOSTA-S. many miles away from any consider able body of water. This strange crab is a native of Ilin dostan, where, in one province at least, and perhaps in others, the young grass fairly swarms with myriads of them. They burrow in the ground. They can run with considerable swiftness even when carrying in the long claws which serve for both arms and hands a bundle of grass or young rice stalks as big. and sometimes even bigger, than themselves. Nature is very generous with all her children, giving to each one just the powers and faculties which it needs to enable it to provide for all its wants. So this humble inhabitant of the table lands of India is provided with a capi tal mowing machine in the shape of a pair of remarkably sharp and strong pincers. To harvest his abundant crops, the comical-looking creature assumes a sort of sitting posture, so that he can usfe his pincers to advantage. lie works very rnpinly, using one pair of claws to cut and another to bind his sheaves at the same time. As soon as he has gathered all he can carry be scuttles off with it, in a funny sidewise fashion, and with an air of solemn importance that is a very amusing contrast to his clumsy mo tions and queer shape. Hut the human inhabitants of the districts preferred by this queer little mower and reaper do not find him at all amusing. They say that one of these crabs will destroy an amount of young grass and rice in one year which, if allowed to reach perfection, would keep a laboring man in health and strength during that time. II. E. Smith, in Chicago Inter Ocean. THE INDUSTRIOUS WASP. Ha Ilai Many Tsefal Trades and Jfever Neglects His "Work. Wasps act as architects, builders, car penters and paper-makers. They go abroad into the fields and gardens in search of provisions; -with exemplary care for the public welfare they eat out the sunny side of your peaches and carry away meat from the lamb chops in your larder. Ma, base man, who robs the busy bee of its hard-earned honey and slays the gentle calf for the production of veal cutlets, usually speaks of the socialist insects as rob bers and depredators. But he forgets that the generous and public-spirited wasp does not levy tribute on his apri cots for itself alone. It is the commis sary of the republic. Each worker hur ries back to the nest the results of his fruit hunting or his marauding expe ditions, and shares them among his fellow subjects with that distributive justice which Aristotle preached and which nobody in our human communi ties practices. He carries out the prin ciples of the Fabian society. Every successful wasp, when he re turns to the nest with a piece of prime beef or a wingless Cy, or a cargo of sugar saved for the community from the grocer's barrel, perches on the top of tha dome among his assembled fel lows, and, disgorging all his spoils, di vides them equally among nurses and paper-makers. Ills two main doctrines are: "If any wrp will not work, neither shall he eat," and ''every wasp to la bor according to his capacity and re ceive according to his needs in a free community." Division of labor, I. believe, goes a long way in the nest. Some of the workers seem to be specially employed as foragers and soldiers; others appear to be told off as nurses and guardians, while yet others are engaged as paper makers and masons. It is even said that these last work by definite shifts (I know not by what authority) and that they each have a space of about a square inch allotted to them to t'-ll with cells, on which no neighboring worker is permitted to encroach with impuni ty. But these are perhaps the fictions of imaginative observers. At any rate the eight hours act is not yet in opera tion; wasps work early and late ol their own mere notion. Why Tommy Shed Tears. "What are you crying for, Tommy? "Because my brothers have a holiday and I haven't." "But why haven't yoti a holiday, too?" "Because I'm not old enougti So 9 to school." he found his cow with! a v shot In other hodv. ii 1 her J quiet rest