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About The farmers' alliance. (Lincoln, Nebraska) 1889-1892 | View Entire Issue (Dec. 14, 1889)
BY JOHN EU8SELI1 FISH Ell.
doan pny to do much talkin'w'en you'n
mad enuff to choke.
K&Be de word da t stints de deepen' am di
, one clat'a nebbah epoke.
lex ue ucnier ie;ier wruiigiw tui u oiumu au
Pea he'll do a pile oh thiakin' 'boutdetbingt
you didn't Bay.
Spec' de little blue-eyed daisy, peepin fru d
Though it nin't no tow'rin' oak tree, haa itf
8neer oi nonest. ion;
4Bpec de red rose in degahden, blushin' 'Death
- de June day sun.
Kebbah scatter o'er de grasa tops till ita wuct
at home am done.
Taint de chap dat's alius kickin kase d
worP nin't jes' hia fcizo
Dat'll lib on roasted 'pofeBum in dat Ian' be
yon' de skies;
Par's a likely soht ob blessin' eben wid d
But de one dat looks de bigges' om de on
you habn't got.
Bpee' de gray equir'l enubs the chipmunk
kaee his color ain't jes' righjt,
Bat w'en guns banc; in de wood lot, chip
munk sleeps de bes' at nipht.
'Bent de smahtes' chap I knows on is de one
dat doan' git left",
Kase he spen's his loafin' minnits gittin'
'qmainted wid hisseff.
Tsebbah quarrel wid yo'nabur 'kase his 'ligion
doan' peem soun'.
Lots ob roads dat staht out difTrent wrie-glc
roun' to de same town.
Though yo' lot in life am grubbin' in a cro.ok-
ed 'tater row,
Alius' hoi' yo' head up firmly, as you're
trablin' to and fro.
late in the morning,
I overtook two men
on foot, who halted
as I came up. One
of them spoke to
"I say, pard, how
fur ahead is Van Sickle's?"
I did not like the man. His face
was hard; the eyes furtive. The
shoes of the two men were worn,
their clothes dusty and travel
stained. It was not a good sign
that they were traveling on the
pen prairie unmounted.
"A mile," I answered, "You'll
sight it from tiie next rise."
The other man, a swarthy Mexi
can, did not look up or speak. I
rode on and left them.
At the home ranch Mr. Keswick
was sitting on the veranda. He was
a New England gentleman who was
epending some time in the country in
search of a ranch location. I sat
down by him and we fell to talking.
The two footmen I had passed
presently came up to the ranch and
seated, themselves on the edge of the
veranda, saying nothing but noting
everything about them. The man
who had addressed me on the trail
I mentally named "The Scoundrel."
I saw his eye give a sudden gleam as
Mr. Keswick took out his gold watch
to note the time.
ravenously and silently. Black Joe
the cook, regarded them with obvi
ous disfavor. After dinner they
asked for employment on the ranch.
Joe knew the foreman was looking
for extra hands, but he said, shortly,
that no men were wanted, Later,
he privately remarked to me.
'Dem trifiin' fellers don want
work. Dey's looking fur to loal
roun', 'n spy 'n steal. You see, sah,
dey hab no hoss; no beddin' no gun,
nonuffin'. Dey's boun' to git 'em
wha' dey kin. We ain't fur outfittin'
no sut trash heah. We fill de bellies
and we gib um mighty willin' good
Shortly after dinner Mr. Keswick
Baddled his horse and rode away to
visit a ranch twenty miles distant.
The two men loitered about a little,
and then sneaked away in the direc
tion Mr. Keswick had taken.
Later in the afternoon I rode out
5a search of a horse which had
strayed. I did not find the animal,
and got farther away than I had
intended. I suddenly became aware
that it was sundown and that I was
a dozen miles from the home ranch.
As I was about to turn back, a
riderless horse ran up on the ridge
beyond me, and stopped a moment
with head and tail in air. I -saw
that it was Mr. Keswick's horse.
The animal seemed frightened. It
locTked a moment looked back and
then ran on at full speed.
Thinking that some accident had
befallen the rider, I rode in the direc
tion from which the horse had come,
I kept on until it was too dark to
search farther, and then halted.
After all, he might only have had
an experience, not uncommon with
unpracticed. riders, and been left
afoot on the prairie by a restless
horse. If this was all, his plight was
uncomfortable but not serious. It
meant nothing worse for him than a
night in the open air and a few jokes
from the ranchmen at his expense.
A night on the prairie, in fact,
seemed likely to be my own portion.
I was now at least fifteen miles from
home, off the trail, and the night was
dark. But I knew I could not be
more than five miles from the near
est sheep station of Van Sickle's
raneh. To this I determined to sro.
I knew the general lay of the
country, and an hour's riding
brought me to the station. There
was no light in the frame shanty,
and the empty corrals showed me
the ehephards had taken their flocks
to another ranch.
As this absence meant for me a
night without supper or bed, I was
at first minded to make for the
home ranch, although my horse was
tired. The elements decided the
matter for me. A drop of rain fell
on my head, and others tapped on
mv hat brim. The sky had become
black, and, the rainy season being
at hand, I knew that it had set in for
a rainy night.
There was nothing for me but to
stay where! was. 1 hurriedly picket
cd my horse on the prairie, leaving
him free to feed to the end of his long
rope: then took my saddle and bri
die to the house, the door of which
Within, it was pitch dark.. I struck
a match as I stepped insidn. To my
pleasure, my eye fell on a half-burned
candle. I lighted this and looked
abou t me, The interior was bare and
unfurnished, save for two bunks, one
above the other, and a wooden stool.
On the latter , I seated myself, and
filled and lighted my pipe.
I had sought shelter none to soon,
for the rain was coming down in
sheets, with much thunder and light
ning. The door blew open, "and I
braced a board against it to keep it
By the time my pipe was finished I
was sleepy. I chose to make my bed
on the floor rather than in either of
the bunks. My saddle served for a
pillow, and I lay down with my sad
dle blanket rolled about me, soon
grew drowsy, and, with the thunder
crashing about me tell asleep.
I was aroused by a pushing at the
door, and started up lully awake in
"Who's there?" I called.
The pushing ceased. I heard low
voices without. I walked to the door,
and, knocking aside the board that
held it, threw it open'
The storm had cleared, and I saw
a man standing near the doorway.
His hat was pulled down over his
eyes and partly hid his face; but I
saw at once that it was the man
whom I had named "The Scoundrel."
"Whose camp is this?" he asked
"Van Sickle's" I answered.
"He started, and an exclamation
broke from him; "Ain't we off that
cussed place yet?" He stopped as if
fearful of betraying himself, and
asked in a different tone:
"Got anything to eat?"
There is nothing in the camp."
"That's a likely story," he broke
out, and again suddenly checked his
speech. "I reckon we'll come in out
of the wet, anyway."
As he said "we" I saw the Mexican,
who had so far kept out of sight.
Little as I liked their looks I could
hardly refuse them shelter, and step
ped back, saying "You can come in."
I lighted the candle and set it upon
a shelf. The men entered with hesi
tation, looking suspiciously abcut
them. The Mexican crouched against
the wall, and held his head
low, fso that I saw little of his
face, but I could catch the flash of
his eyes as he glanced slantingly up
under his black brows. The other
seated himself on the lower bunk and
looked sullenly about. When they
saw that I was alone their manner
They asked some questions about
the trails and location of ranches,
and the Scoundrel began to grow ug
ly and bantering. This temper on
his part carried an ominous signifi
cance. I felt plainly that the two
men were "sizing me up and I wished
that I had my pistol.
We were not a happy company. I
thoroughly distrusted my ill-favored
companions, and they evidently had
sonie disturbing thoughts of their
However, we all prepared for sleep.
The Scoundrel rolled intQ the lower
bunk; the Mexican curled up on the
floor. Both lay quiet and seemed by
thei r breathing to have gone to sleep.
I lay with eyes half-closed, wishing
for the morning. I saw that the
candle wrould not last much longer,
and I had a strange dread of the
dark. I grew restless, and finally got
up and went to the door. The men
started and rustled at my movement,
but nothing was said.
I stepped outside and across the
grass to my horse. He whinnied at
my approach, and raised his head. I
patted him, and stood awhile with
my hand on his shoulder: The long
er I stood the less I felt like going
back into the camp.
My antipathy to the men was so
strong that I determined to saddle
my horse immediately and ride to
the home ranch. I turned back to
the shanty. The candle was not
burning, a fact which should have
caused me to hesitate; but entering,
I groped my way over to the corner
where my saddle lay, and stooped
to pick it up.
A sensation of red light suddenly
filled my eyes, and 1 next found my
self on my face on the floor, where I
lad fallen, struck down from a heavy
blow from behind.
The two tramps had flung them
selves on me, and were tying my
elbows behind my back. Causrht
wholly at a disadvantage, and half-
stunned, I could make no resistance.
After I If ad somewhat recovered, I
lay quiet so as not to incur rougher
usage. As it was, my first instinctive
struggles had gained for me a savage
kick in the head. The men knelt
heavily on me, wrenching my arms
back as they twisted and tied the
lashings. Then they stepped back,
and the Scoundrel said in Spanish,
"Light the candle, Benito t"
1 heard the sound of flint on steel;
a shower of sparks glanced in the
dark, followed by a tiny flame;
then the lighted candle re
vealed the house interior, and the
two men looking at me with an ex
pression that betokened anything
but goodwill. They proceeded to
search me, rolling me to this side and
that to faciliate the operation.
They emptied my pockets and sat
down to appraise their plunder.
They discussed the value of my
watch, and the Mexican opened and
shut the different blades of my pock
et knife, which seemed to "strike his
fancy immensely. They showed ill
temper in finding so little money in
my pocket-book, and the Sconndrel
threatened to come over and kick me.
Their humor improved on finding a
whole plug of tobacco, but they
cursed me for not having more
Having completed the valuation
of my effects, the Scoundrel addressed
"Yer warn't enjoyin' yer night's
rest'n war goin' to quit us Avithout
saying good-bye. We'll put yer ter
sleep this time so yer won't get wake
ful any more."
The corners of his thin lips drew
back in a cruel sort of a smile, as if
the idea of "putting me to sleep"
pleased him. The Mexican grinned
responsively, wflh a flash of superb
I had little doubt that my fate was
now sealed. The men had gone too
far to stop. What they had already
done was a haneriner matter in the
J ranch country. THey would add noth
ing to their danger, but would in
crease their safety, by killing nte.
"You bring up the horse, Benito,"
said the scoundrel, "we'll saddle up
The Mexican led my horse to the
door, and they carefully saddled
"Never fear," said the Scoundrel,
scowling in at me as he tightened the
clinch, "we ain't a-going offn forgit
The horse stood ready to be
mounted, and I expected the crisis to
follow without delay. But the two
men came indoors, the Mexican
holding the end of the lariat at
tached to the horse, and fell to dis
cussing the route they should take.
The Scoundrel held my watch up
and commented upon it. "I reckon
yer paid the price for a purty good
time-piece," he said. "I don't like
the movement and taint a stem win
der. Here's a better one." He took
out a gold repeater. "You've seen
it afore. It's the one the Eastern
chap was showin' yesterday. He
got lost an' we fell in with him an'
left him on the prairie. We caught
him nappin' just as we did you, an' I
killed him with his own pistol. I'm
giving you these things just 'cause
we're goin' to take mighty good care
that you'don't go tell nobody."
Benito, his white teeth showing,
was enjoying this badinage, the hu
mor of which struck him as ex
quisite. He now put in a word
touching his knife as he spoke.
"He no tell? No, he no tell! Never!"
"Yer see that candle," the Scoun
drel went on. "Thar's about an
inch of it left. I'll give yer to live
just while that's burnin'." He was
now filling my pipe. 'It'll 'low us
time for a smoke, 'n we'll finish yer'n
go on our way."
He lighted the pipe, first walking
over to me and going through my
pockets to see if there were any
matches that he had missed in
his first search. He went back to his
seat, crossed his legs comfortably,
and began to smoke. The Mexican,
with a cigarette, sat on the floor.
The candle burned steadily down,
measuring out the minutes I had to
live. Benito finished his cigarette
and looked toward the Scoundrel.
That gentleman; whose pipe was
drawing well, was in no hurry. He
had something further to say to me.
"I seen yer looking at us kinder
cur'us at Van Sickle's," he said.
"Mebbe yer'd like to know just who
we are. I don't mind tellin' yer, see
in' as yer sartin to keep quiet. My
name is Joseph Outhart, " com
monly called 'Reddy,' 'n my
friend here is 'Mexican Ben.
We're vallyble men, fur there's a re
ward of five hundred dollars apiece
out for us dead or alive. We don't
like so much attention, so we're get
tin' out o' the country. By day
break we'll be in the mountains afore
our friends know which way we've
gone. We broke jail at Canon City
just a week ago. We didn't have
much outfit to start with, but we're
gittin' tol'able well fixed."
My head throbbed and burned, and
my arms and shoulders were painful
ly constrained, owing to the tight
ness with which I was bound, but in
the excitement of the greatest peril I
noticed this but little. Yet my senses
were strangely excited. I heard and
saw everything as I lay watching the
candle. The drops of grease which
ran clown it flowed more freely on
one side, owing to the flicker caused
by a little puff of wind.
From the creek, two hundred yards
away, come to my ears clearly the
splash, splash, of heavy animals
horses or cattle crossing.
The candle burned low. The
Scoundrel knocked the ashes out of
"I 'low yer entitled to half an inch
more o'that candle," he said, "but
we're in a hurry, 'n I know yer
wouldn't stand out about a little
matter like that; 'taint much in a
lifetime. We've no time to waste,
waitin' on ver last minutes."
His bantering air left him, his cold,
gray eyes took on a deadly glare,
and on his face I saw the instinct and
hardihood of murder leap into ex
pression. He reached into the lower
bunk and took up a heavy revolver
Avhich I had not before seen. The
end was at hand.
"Hold the hoss, Benito."
He looked at me with jaw set and
lip compressed. He could not for
bear one remark more; his lids curled
in a fiendish grin, as he said taunt
ingly: "This is Keswich's pistol, 'n 1 shot
him with it. I'll send ye off quick, so
as you can jine company afore he
gets fur on his way."
The hammer click clicked as his
thumb pulled it back; I looked
ttraight into the muzzle of the pis
A yell, a sudden commotion in the
doorway, and a call from the
Mexican stayed his finger at the trig
ger and caused him to turn.
My horse was plunging to escape.
The lariat was slipping through the
Mexican's hands as he braced hard
against the doorposts.
"Quick! Quick, or we lose him!"
The Scoundrel sprang to his com
panion's aid, but before he could
reach him the rope was jerked from
the Mexican, who, in the attitude of
a half-shut jack-knife came backward
with a jerk and sat down so hard as
to shake the floor; tripping up the
Scoundrel, who fell over him, so that
the two most unwillingly rolled about
like acrobats. The pistol banged in
the scuffle, and both men swore
They gained their feet, enraged at
the escape of the horse, and ready for
a moment to fight each other. The
toss of the horse would force them to
go on foot. The Scoundrel looked
at me. "I'll do you up, anywayl" he
said, and picked up the pistol which
aaa iaiien to tne noor.
He stopped his eyes staring at
the doorway then staggered back
ward, and, turningaway, covered his
face with his hands.
In the doorway stood Mr. Keswick,
his face pallid, his hair and beard
matted, his clothes disheveled. At
the same instant came the trampling
of horses' feet.
Benito gave one look at the figure
In the doorway, yelled, plunged
through the window, carrying the
sash with him. There followed a
rush of horses, shouts, shots.
The Scoundrel started up and look'
ed wildly around. He took one step
toward the doorway and again
shrank back. He turned to the win
dow; but a man on horseback was
guarding the opening with a shot
gun. Behind Keswick, bearded faces
came into the light, and there pushed
by him a quick-moving man, with
sombrero and spurs, holding a cock
ed revolver in each hand. He xrave a
quick glance around, and called,
"Throw up your hands!"
He added, "I am the sheriff of Bent
county, and I place' you all under
The Scoundrel's terror at sight of
Mr. Keswick, whom he had at first
taken for an avenging ghost, gave
place to rage and desperation. He
still held his pistol.
"Throw up your hands, I tell you!"
thundered the sheriff. Ah! you
would have it so!" Two reports
crushed in the room, followed by a
heavy fall, as both fired, the sheriff
an instant the quicker. The candle
was extinguished by the concussion:
when it was re-lighted it showed the
outlaw dead on the floor. The
sheriff was unhurt. Two of the men
brought in the Mexican, who limped
between them with a bullet hole
through his leg.
1 was soon untied and told the
sheriff the story of the night. Mr.
Keswick was pl&red in a bunk; his
wound was found not to be serious;
the glancing of the ball on a rib had
saved his life. The outlaws had left
him for dead, but the coolness and
rain of the night had revived him,
and, guided by the light, he had slow
ly walked and crawled to the sheep
camp. The sheriff stood over the dead out
law, looking not ill-pleased with the
result of his shot. "Just as well," he
said reflectively. "The reward reads
'dead or alive.' "
The early morning saw the sheriffs
party travelling toward town with
the dead and the living outlaw. A
wagon and mattress came later, on
which Mr. Keswick was taken to the
home ranch. In a few days he was
well enough to ride to town, where he
completed his recovery. Youth's
Jfcannie's Bonnie Dream.
They sat together on the warm,
sparkling sand, the mother and the
child. The tiny golden head nestled
against the protecting breast; the
wan face was lit by the evening sun;
the eyes were closed, aud a smile
parted the bloodless lips. The maid
The mother watched beside her
sleeping child, and she scarce more
than a child herself murmured a
mother's prayer, "Lord Jesus, save
my little girl." Again and again she
repeated it, "Save my little girl.''
That was all.
0 God! why are the poor born to
be so unhappy?
Softly she drew the threadbare
tartan shawl round the slender frame.
Gentle as was the motion it roused
the sleeper. The great blue eyes
"Did I wake ye, Jeannie?"
"No, no mither, ye dinna wake me;
I woke my ainsel. I had a bonnie
"Ay, dearie, what was it?"
The mother looked down anxious
ly. "Afore I went to sleep I wras watch
in' the ships wi' their white sails flit
tin owre the water, an' I wondered
whar they were a' gaun. I looked,
an' looked an' then 1 thought I was
in a wee boatie, wi' white sails, too,
mither. They said it was gaun to
heav'n. The sky Avas black ower my
heid, an' great Avaves tossed my
boatie to and fro, But far away the
sun Avas glintin' on the Avater, an'
there were steps of gowd gaun up,
up, up. They said that was the Avay
to heav'n. ls't no, mither? Are ye
The mother's face was turned
"Aye, aye, Jeannie, I'm list'nin' to
"I sailed a lang. lang time. I was
tired; but I came nearer an' nearer
the steps. I Avas a'most tliere, mith
er. They said: 'Gae, Jeannie, an'
ye'll not bo tired ony mair.' I was
gaun, bnt they said again: 'No the
noo, Jeannie, the next time.' Then
I awoke. Was't no a bonnie dream,
"My wee lamb," Avas allthemother
could say. She pressed the frail form
to her. The golden head sank back
"The next time."
The sun set in crimson glory over
the sands and sea; heavy pur
ple night-clouds overshadowed the
earth. Ere the glory faded the little
maiden was far away on her journey
up the golden steps. Still the moth
er watched and prayed: "Lord Jesus,
save my little girl."
God help those who aAvake from
sleep. Scottish American.
Eyes of a Severed Head Open.
A Negannee special to The Detroit
Free Press says: A brakeman named
Thomas Higgins slipped between
two freight cars , on a moving train
near Maple Ridge. The signal to
stop was given by another brake
man who saw the fall and the train
stopped and. backed up to where
Higgins lay. Five cars had passed
over his body, which Avas frightfully
mangled. The head was completely
) severed from the trunk and lay sev-
1 C . J- 1 TV
erui it:eu irom tne tracK. xireman
Byo picked up the heod and was hor
ror stricken to see the eyelids close
and again open, then paitly close
again. This was seen by Engineer
William Whitney and the brakeman,
and all three were badly frightened.
This signof consciousness was given
several minutes after the head Avas
severed from the body.
The most fashionable hen in Maine
in said to live at Winslow's Mills, in
the town of Waldboro. She started
in life a plain, dark-brown pullet, but
ejjon exchanged this for a black and
Arhite suit. The next time she shed
her feathers she came out as white as
snow, and this fall she appears in a
black, white and tan dress.
I know not. love, how first yon found me,
- "What instinct. Jed you here;
I know the world has changed around me
Since once you came so near.
1 yield a thousand claims to nourish this,
At last the dearest hope, tho neureist. tie;
And looking but to you for happiuesti,
How lightly passed the maidenR leisuiw
That youth and freedom cho6e,
The careless dnys of peace and pleasure,
The nights of pure r pose!
So ewi!t a touch could see the tune Amiss!
So brief a uhudow blot the morning eky!
Yet if the heart be made for happiness,
Happy am I.
0 love, your coming taught me trouble;
Yonr parting tuught me pain.
My breath grew quick, my blood ran double
It leaped in every -ein.
Yet, ah! has Time outdone the lovers kin.
The look the burning look the low reply?
If these be all he holds of hanpine,
Happy am I.
You lent to earth a vague emotion;
My Belf a stranger seems;
Your glance is mixed with sky and ocean;
Your voice is heard in dreams.
The good Ichooseis weighed with thntlniies.
My idlest laughter mated with a igh,
And moving 011I3 in your happiness
, Happy am I
Dora Heed Goodale.
in youth. Each
had saved a
from her mea
each had mar
ried a larmer with limited means;
neither had parents able to furnish
Nellie Chase fondly loved music; so
her first housekeeping purchase was
a parlor organ. At the same time
practical Emma Payne im-ested in a
somewhat smaller sum in a flock of
fine-wool sheep. Nellie decided that
a Avedding reception would not cost
much, and the presents would more
than pay the expense; Emma declar
ed that she would reserA'e the recep
tion for her silver aniversary or some
other convenient season. Their mar
riage trousseaus were noticably con
trasting. Emma's serviceable black
silk and firm brown serge, with the
necessary accompaniments, consti
tuted her purchases; but Nellie insist
ed on a cream surah with lace drap
ery, a black satin, a drab wool tea
gown, a Henrietta traveling suit,
and hats and gloA'es in profusion.
Emma turned her money into a
model cook-sto'e, Avith modern uten
sils; Nellie saw economy in bu y
ing a second-hand stove "it costs
so much less and will do just
as AAell tor the kitchen." Will Chase
approAed his wife's choice, for heAvas
stylishly disposed and lacked that
depth of niind that would haAe en
abled him to discriminate closely.
The first of April came, and the
two voung farmers moved on to
leased farms and began the great
battle for bread. Truman and Em
ma gave little thought to parlor ar
rangements, but pantry, kitchen and
sitting-room Avere comfortably and
conveniently fitted up, although with
no ostentatious display.
On my Avay to call on Mrs. Chase I
passed Truman Payne, AvhoAvas busi
ly hauling rails to repair a fence; but
Will Chase said the wind bleAV so hard
he thought he would have "a good
sing;" so niAr arrival found theChases
occupying the parlor. I did not wish
to disturb the "sing," and at my re
quest it Avent on, Nellie's sweet so
prano and Will's fine tenor furnishing
enchantment for my ears, Avhilelhad
opportunity to surA-ey the elegant
plush furniture, lambrequins, pedes
tals, statues, vases, and pictures by
the score. An April shoAver prolong
ed my stay and compelled me to re
main to tea. As we entered the
kitchen, Avhich answered the two
fold purpose of cook-room and
dining-room, many Avere Nel
lie's explanations. "This is
the table mother used when she be
gan housekeeping; this set of glass
Avare came with baking-powder, these
chairs Will bought at an auction for
half what they are worth; this cake
basket, this pickle caster and that
butter-dish AAere wedding presents.
I tell you it pays to make a wed
ding." The butter-dish suggested
the inquiry, "Do you make butter?"
"Well, I really know so little about
butter-making that I asked old Mrs.
Jones OA'er at the next house if she
Avouldjust as soon tend the milk
and she seemed glad of the chance.
I thought getting rid of this Avork
would giAre me spare time to keep
in practice with my music." "You
keep foAvls, do you not?" I .ven
tured again. "Oh, yes; Will said
we could not run a farm without
hens; so he bought t-Aven ty. He takes
care of them; it isn't m"peh work
only feeding them and hunting the
At the Paynes' Emma tended the
poultry, and the first biddy that
gaATe signs of sitting was encouraged
by being given a choice clutch of
eggs from a pure-blood stock. The
designing turkey hens could not
e-ade her watchful eye. The golden
butter prints turned out by her skill
ful hands found ready sale,
and in June her sheep were
shorn and the one hundred and
fifty pounds of wool readily turned
into forty-five dollars of golden coin.
It did not take Emma long to invest
the money, and glad was Truman
Payne when his wife handed him the
canceled note, though not due, for a
cow he had purchased.
When an invalid friend, desirous of
seeking the invigorating, fresh, coun
try air, applied to her for board for
herself and her nurse, Truman felt
that the burden - would prove too
great; but Emma, believing herself
equal to the emergency, convinced
him otherAvise,andthe first rainy day
was spent in fitting the "parlor"
for Mrs. Gilman. A carpet was too
expensive, and really not suitable for
the invalid's room; so some lively
green paint Avas applied to the floor,
and rues here and there finished the
floor decoration. The light drab
paper, unsoiled by former occupants,
did serA-ice for the walls, and a bed
room suit completed the expense.
Mrs. Gilman soon began to mend.
The pure air and bright light oi her
well-ventilated room soon impelled
her to go out into the sunshine, while
the delicious cream, the savory soup,
the fresh eggs and the tender broilers
courted her appetite. Eight weeks'
stay changed her to apparent health,
nnd every week added ten dol
lars to a purse that could Avell bear
the inflation after the bedroom suit
had been paid for. Mrs. Gilman now
became the direct purchaser oi
Payne's butter, at city retail price,
an item not to be lost sight of by suc
At Thanksgiving the well-fattened
poultry that had made such raid on
the corn were exchanged for seventy
five dollars and gave Emma a nest
egg for future speculation, The in
crease of the sheepfold was submitted
to a city butcher, and this apprisal,
Avith the avooI money, showed an in
come equal to the expense of the pur
chase of the flocklacking fivedollars.
This gave the happy couple an incen
tive to keep more 6heep,and less
coavs another year.
' The Paynes kept strict oversight
to their business: still every Sabbath
found them in the chnrch and work
ers in the school. They rode much,
but never with the single motive of
pleasure. They believed that
"Pleasures are like poppies spread
You seize the flower, its bloom is ehed,"
but a couple could not have been
found that really enjoyed themselves
better. Home reading prompted an
occasional addition to their iibrarv.
Economy, not parsimony, was their
rule of life, and a true debt and credit
account gare them knoAvledge of
their financial standing. Saving
makes far grater raid on tact than
Emma's keen business mind con-ceiA-ed
many plans, sanctioned or
revised by Truman's interested con
sideration, which when executed
proved the truth of the old adage:
"Two heaps together are better than
one." Emma prepared several bot
tles of surplus pickles, that readily
exchanged at the grocer's for raisins
and spices for Avinte use. Many an
other device did this wife carry into
execution that gave Farmer Payne
There are two forces that compel
vigor the one encouraging success,
the other reAerso evidence. Will
Chase saw before the first year had
passed that his wife, though dearly
loA'ed, was not the practical helpmate
a farmer needed, so resoh'edto coup
le speculation with farm labors, and
thus supplement her deficiencies. The
Paynes found no trouble in making
"both ends meet," but the cycle of
the year left an arc in Will Chase's
financial circle that demanded a
chattel mortgage as a span.
The Paynes desired a fivevyear
lease of the same farm. The "con
tract completed, retired Farmer Ben
nett chuckled and said: "You'll be
rich enough to buy me out when this
contract ends." He had often
expressed an approAal of their
management, and at tho hap
py Christmas-tide gave tangible
evidence by the gilt of a fineJersey
heifer to Emma, Avho proved her
gratitude, and led him into a pending
discussion of the policy of adopting
a creamery. "I don't take to this
neAv-:'angled notion," said Mr, Ben
nett, "but talk it over, and if you
two pull together 1 11 bear half tho
expense." Itesult an eAen 6tart.
Will Chase beat about AA ithout a
magnet, couldn't find the polestar
guide to success, and didn't know
whether it was best to remain or look
up another farm, Avith better pros
pective. A pleasure horse had eaten
a fair share of the might-have-been
surplus grain, half of his half of the
butter Avent to pay old Mrs. Jones
for the making, and the poultry
didn't flourish on feed alone. Any
denial chafed Nellie's selfish nature
as cucumber vines did her dainty
hands. She, like many another de
luded woman, had looked upon her
marriage as the termination of trials
the liA'ing problem to be solved by
another mind, Avho must make t lie
rule, carry out the physical illustra
tion, and demonstrate andAvhenever
demanded furnish financial proof of
solution. Nellie's detestation of
moA'ing helped Will to decide to try
the same farm another j'ear, thoujrh
neither had any special love for the
Avork thus laid before them, and both
were of the opinion that "farming
doesn't pay." They both ardently
loAed gay society, and no neighbor
ing dance seemed complete withonb
their presence. Nellie's wardrobe re
quired remodelings and affixes. Will
had been tolerably successful in buy
ing farm produce and consigning to
a city commission agent, and the
revenue thus gained enabled him to
meet the, demands of "society."
r While society was absorbing the
Chases' minds the enterprising
Paynes were steadily pushing to
completion various small jobs to
avert a multitude of cares during
the more busy season of summer and
insure tho profit of farmiug.
At the end of the first year's expe
rience we leaA'e these two home makers
the one fully equipped to driA-e
business, the other driven to busi
ness. Musing, after a vista of years,
we see the one a happy couple flour
ishing under their "own vine and fig
tree," with shining head about them,
dispensing sweetest music and calling
them that blessed name,"Dear pa
rents." But ah! the music has
ceased in the other home, and the
husband, mourning the early fall of
his wife, exclaims: "Sad and myste
rious are the dealings of Providenco
Mesmerizing Drummers by the
Clarence Cheever, general ticket
agent at Yincennes, Ind., has devd
bped within the last few daysAvonder
ful meSjineric power. He attended a
series of lectures on mesmerism, and
in the experiments that followed de
veloped a startling attractive per
sonality. He got together twenty
traveling men stopping at the depot
hotel, and put two-tnirds of them
immediately under mesmeric in
fluence, and did absolutely as he
wished with them. New York Sun.
William Drew Washburn.
' William DreAV AVashburn, of Min-
! nesota who has gone to Washington
to take his seat in tho United State
Senate, was born at Liennore, An
droscoggin County, Maine, on Janu
ary 14, 1831. He was reared on a farm
and as a boy did agricultural Avork
in summer and attended school in
the winter season. By the time when
he had reached the age of twenty lu
had fitted himself for college. He
was graduated at Bowdoin in 18."il.
and afterward read law. When twenty-six
years old he settled at Mia-
neapolis, Avhere he opened an office.
In 18G1 President Lincoln appointed
him Surveyor-General of Minnesota.
During tho four years in which Mr.
Washburn administered this office ho
resided at Saint Paul. In 18G5 he
returned to Minneapolis, where he
engaged in manufacturing industries
of different kinds. He is hoav a load
er in tho milling business and a mil
lionaire, and oaaiis railroad proper-
In 1858 and in 1871 ho was elected
to the Legislature of Minnesota. Ho
was a BepresentatiA'o in the Forty
sixth, Forty-seventh and Forty
eighth Congresses. f
Mr. AVashburn is a tall, portly gen
tleman, with well-kept bushy" side
whiskers, streaked with silver.
Wedded By Moonlight.
Bufus Butter y, Jr., of SUVer Mine,
nnd Miss Emma J. Scofield of Nor
walk, recently decided to wed, says
a Norwalk correspondent of the
New York Sun. The groom was un
til lately an apprentice in a black
smith shop on Iloyt street, and islJl
years of age. The bride has been for
nearly thirty years employed in a ru
sponsible position in Hutchinson,
Cole & Co.'s shirt shop on Merwiu
and is 50 years old. A few evenings
ago the bride nnd groom, accompan
ied by Mr. Buttery's parents and sis
ter, drove to the residence of Rev. I).
II. Chappell, the mcthod.ist minister
at Silver Mine. Tho clerygman scan
ned the marriage licence, and then
nearly broke tho hearts of his hearers
by stating that the ceremony could
not be performed in that parsonage,
Avhich stands in tho town of New
Canaan, tho license being issued for
Norwalk. If he should perform the
ceremony in New Canaan,heAouldbo
liable to a fine of $500.
It looked as though tho cere
mony Avould havo to bo post
poned, but the imaginary line Avhich
fleperates Norwalk and New Canaan is
about a quarter of a mile from tho
clergyman's house, the henrest point
being in an open field. He explained
that it could be a very simple matter
to Avalk just across the line, and then
the ceremony would be preformed.
All hands were soon over trudging
through tho Avet grass. Mr. Chappell
and his wife leading the Avay, Mr.
Buttery's parents and sister next,
and the bride and groom bringing up
the rear. The man in the moon was
tho only outsider present. In about
ten minutes the clergyman halted on
what he declared to bo Norwalk
ground and the others formed a
group around him.
' The bride and groom took thr-ir
positions in front of the clergyman,
tho latter produced his little book, and
under the starry dome of heaven tho
ceremony was performed.
For a moment after the conclusion
there was an awkward silence. The
plaintive cry of a whip-poor-A411
came from tho adjacent Avood,
and from a far-Avay hill-side was
heard the rude music of a dog who
sat upon his haunces and howled at
the moon. The clergyman broke the
silence by taking tho hand of the
bride and giving her a congratulatory
kiss. The groom nnd the rest of the
family folIoAved his example, nnd tho
little party returned to the clergy
man's house, Avhero the marriage
certificate was made out and the iVe
was paid. It Avas past midnight,
but Mr. and Mrs. Chappell set out a
collation which tho party of seven
enjoyed. The bride and groom are
now deep in the mysteries of house
keeping in a vine-clad cottage on
All Reverence the Dead.
A short time ago a fruit peddler
was passing up Elizabeth streeteast,
yelling "ba-nan-oes" at tho top of
his voice, Avhen ho suddenly caught
sight of the era po on a door which
signified that a child lay dead in the
"Ba-nan-oes! Ba-uan-oes! Ba" j
He checked his words as he saw
the crape, removed his hat and placed
it on his cart, and he walked to the
next square bareheaded and silent.
Detroit Free Press.
Fresh Water Freshness.
The hazing of freshmen seems to be
confined to what are known as tho
freshwater colleges of late. The old
er and larger colleges have pretty
thoroughly outgroAvn this species of
barbarism. The sooner the smaller
institutions catch up with the times,
the better for all concerned. Boston'
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