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About The Loup City northwestern. (Loup City, Neb.) 189?-1917 | View Entire Issue (Nov. 28, 1902)
Homesick, I want to go hack to tU* orchard— Tho orchard that used to be mine; The apples are reddening and Ailing The air with their wine. I want to wake up in the morning To the chirp of the birds In the eaves; I want the west wind through the corn fields— Tho rustle of the leaves. I want the old song of the river. The little, low laugh of the rltls: I want the warm blue of September Again on the hills. I want to lie down In the woodland. Where the feathery clematis shines, God's blue sky above, and about me The peace of the pines. I want to run on through the pasturs And let down the dusty old bars; I want to find you there still waiting. Your eyes like twin stars. O nights, you are wreary and dreary. And. days, there is something you lack, To the farm in the little, old valley I want to go back. —Alice E. Allen in Lippincott's. > ( THE GLARE OF THE FOOTLIGHTS By ELMER BERNARD. (Copyright, 19C2, by Dailt Stout Pcblishing Compast ) "So begone dull care, Return to your lair. For the world Is bright and gay; And life Is too brief To entertain grief; So let Joy rule night and day." An.l with a knowing wink, a sug gestive smirk and a wicked twirl of that nimble toe the singer swung him self into the tvings amid a hurricane of applause. There was no song and dance man on the vaudeville stage who set the people so wild as Billy Pepsin and many times did he have to come back and repeat the refrain of his latest song before the audience would permit the next act to be put on. The song seemed particularly to fit the singer. Of all the light hearted apostles of careless gaiety, Biliy Pep sin was easily the most single hearted and the great audience which sought the theaters where he performed fair ly reveled in his reckless merriment and thorough abandon. And on this night even more than usual he threw himself Into the very spirit of his part and with the new 6ong which was as foolish as it was adaptable to Billy’s peculiar atmos phere, he sent the audience fairly in to hysterics. They applauded until they were tired from the very physical exercise and agreed to a man that there never had been anything so funny since the dawn of time and that such a stunt could come only from a man who knew no care and never had no more serious responsi bility than to ascertain how he could get a light for his cigarette. Ah, could that wildly cheering and laughter-convulsed crowd have stepped Into Giacomo's Place an hour after the performance closed they would have seen a very different side of the pic ture. Giacomo (last name forever lost to history), was a smart littl« Italian possessed of Indefatigable per sistence and a wife who could cook with that divine touch which is given only now and then to the daughters of Eve. It was a shabby little place off an alley, never too clean and almost Impassable in wet weather. Almost, I say advisedly, because it never was impassable to the stage people of the middle type who formed the principal support of Giacomo. This partly be cause the cooking and the wines were so good—and cheap, for your actor of any class knows what is good and wants it. and perforce his purse Btrings forbid Sherry’s or Rector's as a steady diet. And then the place was always open—at least until the last straggler was ready to retire. The lights never went out before dawn and many a morn did Giacomo doze behind the little bar and hi3 fat wife in a chair in the cramped kitchen un til full time to open again for Hie day’s business. Of course the actors did not make up the whole of the patronage of Giacomo’s Place. Many of the coun trymen of the proprietor, of the more prosperous class, found their way there and reveled in the spaghetti md the pure wine of the land of their inilvlty, also, during the still watches af the night did many newspaper men through with their protracted grind, pick their way through the grimy al ley for their early morning repast. And the place was not without a cer tain reputation to the more prosperous portion of mankind and often came parties, with a keen desire to behold Bohemia—parties who looked not ac the prices on the bill of fare at ail but dined and wined and went back into society. Well, on the night of which we spoke in opening this sketch an hour after the performance closed at the Lyceum, any one strolling into Gia como's might have seen nearly the en tire party of actors and actresses who had entertained them so hilariously, eating and drinking and quarreling and gossiping before the bar or at the unclothed tables. And apart from all at an obscure lit tle tablo in a corner sat the one of all the troupe who had inspired the great est laughter and displayed the great est abandon—Hilly Pepsin. His face was heavy with gloom and the expres 1 - I "Billy,” she said, softly, her voice trembling. sive eyes which had Hashed so signi ficantly and do wickedly at the audience were dull and introspective. He was eating his chops alone and moodily washing them down from a mug of ale at his elbow. He paid no attention to the sallies of the others who now and then sought to arouse him from the cloud that seemed to I envelop him, but sat on alone puffing his pipe after his simple repast was I finished. And so he had sat and so i acted for many months—months which j had now grown into years, as was re called by Alphonse Ginaud, who did the wonderful acrobatic act, and who j had been associated with Billy for many years off and on. [ "Too bad, ain’t it,” said he tossing j a finger toward the solitary figure, "I’d like to see a woman who could do it to me. He never has smiled oft the stage since Sally left him, I’ll bet the drinks. Anyway, I never saw him.” "What’s the story?” inquired a stranger in dress suit who was doing the town and had drifted into Gia como’s Place with his party, as he ordered drinks for all at the bar. Alphonse feeling the importance of the situation, sipped his wine thought fully and replied: “Weil I guess there’s no harm in it; everybody knows—and there ain’t much to it, anyway. Billy Pepsin, the funniest man in the biz, got dead stuck on a little soubrette, Sally Wat ers, and married her. She was a pret ty little piece and fresh from the country. Well, sir, you never saw such lolly-gagging as happened for a year or too. Billy was clean daft and when the little girl came we all thought he would go bug-house. They fixed up a little flat and Billy refused all offers to go out of town—preferred to take half as much and be home. “Well, you know the ways of wom en—she tired of it and skipped out one day with a Jew manager, who had al ways had a roll as big as your leg and wore diamonds that put your eyes out. That's all there is to it only that Billy has never been known to smile since. He’s got the kid in an expen sive school and is saving every cent ho lays hold of—so she won’t have to be an actress, he says. Had a chance to kill the Jew once, but didn’t raise his hand. Said ho reckoned Sally knew best what she wanted. Too bad —spoiling of the best fellow that ever happened. My, but how it would sur prise the guys who laugh at him every night to get a glimpse of that mug off the stage.” The glasses rattled and jingled and , the conversation passed to pleasanter themes. While the jollity was at the heighth the door opened aud a slip of a woman sidled in. She was soantily clad and shivering from the dampness of the drizzling rain cut side. Unnoticed she glanced about and timidly made her way across the room to the corner where Billy sat. '‘She'll find little game there,” care lessly remarked one of the party at the bar. At his elbow Bhe reached out a shaking hand and touched the actor on the shoulder. “Billy,” she said softly, her voice trembling. At the sound of the voice the man leaped to his feet as though shocked with a battery. Before he could speak she resumed: “Please, Billy, don’t hurt me—I am so cold and weak. I won’t bother you much. I don’t ask for forgiveness. Only I Just had to see you once more before—before—the end,” and she flung her hand in the direction of the river. “And Billy, please, please, I want to sec little Sally once more. Take mo to her. I won’t speak to hor. Just let me look at her in her sleep— and kiss her. She needn’t know. I—I am so cold and lonesome and I’ve suf fered so much—and I’m going out there into the blackness—all alone— and I’m afraid—and so wicked—it seems to me it would be easier if i could see her—and if you could toll me that you forgive me, Billy. I know I don't deserve it, but—” She got no further. The man who had been standing as in a trance had gathered her in his arms. “And you’re coming back to us, Sal ly—of your own free will—that’s it, Sally?” And he held his breath as he awaited her answer. “Oh, Billy, I aint fit. I have been so wicked. But I want to; oh, how I want to, Billy and I will try and make so far as 1 can.” Thn lnnlrtr flrvtIWA c t ro t rrli tnnnrl tin and there was a smile on his face, such as it is seldom given mortals to see. He held her close to him regard less of the stares of the onlookers. “We’ll go back to the flat. I have kept it all these years just as it was. I knew you'd come back. And to morrow we will send for the ldd— and, by jove, to-night we'll have one of those rarebits you used to make, won’t we Sally? And they passed through the door and the darkness outside seemed il lumined. “Well, I'll be d—d,” remarked Al phonse, breaking a long silence of the entire party, and everybody laughed hysterically—whereas, there was no call at all to laugh. And Giacomo for the first and last time in the history of the place said: “Evera boda coma up and have a drinka on the house.” And everybody did. The Man Who Clipped. I saw him take the paper, and Turn to the Household Page, Then scan the columns up and down, As one who all would gauge. “Aha!" he muttered to himself, ''Here’s 'How to Make Rice Fritters.' And How to Utilize Cold Beef,’ And 'Home-made Stomach Bitters.' ’’ Then from his pocket forth he took A pair of scissors, small. And severed from the printed page The helpful hints and all. He clipped “The Way to Scramble Kggs," And "How to Make Peach Butter," As well as half a dozen more, “That's all”—again his mutter. “A thoughtful man,” at once I mused. ‘‘A man who cares for tnings; Who loves the calm, contented song The home teakettle sing3." “Do you,” I asked, “preserve those notes “So that your wife may eye them?” "Not much,” ho growled, ”1 cut them out So she won’t get to try them." His Witticism Was Costly. Magistrate Brann is an Irishman, and intensely proud of his lineage. It is one point upon which it is not safe to chaff him. Recently a number of boys who had been arrested for some petty offense were taken before his honor. Among them was one whose speech and general appearance stamped him as Italian. Somebody had told the boy to give an Irish name and tell his honor he was Irish. The magistrate questioned the boys until he came to the youn°; Italian. “What’s your name?” he asked. “Mickey da Casey,” replied the youngster, amid a roar of laughter. “I’m Irish." “Oh, It’s Irish you are, are you?" smilingly replied his honor. “Well, so am I, and I’ll just fine you $10 for in sulting an honorable race.—New York Times. Made Friends With Menelek. William Fitzhugh Whitehouse, who went with Lord Hindlip on an ex ploration trip to the Upper Nile, has returned to New York. He was ac companied by his father, Fitzhugh Whitehouse. W’hen in Absynnia Mr. Whitehouse and Lord Hindlip were detained three days as prisoners, as the local officials refused to recognize Emperor Menelek’s letter. When their lelease had been obtained the em peror invited the travelers to Adis Abeda, treated them with great con diality and permitted them to shoot over his private preserves, to which no white man had previously been ad mitted The emperor also entertained them «. a banquet. “Editress” Complimented. There has been no deterioration in the Emporia Gazetto since William Allen White went to Idaho and left Mrs. White to get out the paper.— Kansas City Star. Best Methods of Cooking. Boiling meat is less wasteful than baking and baking less wasteful than roasting. c*+*K'*+*******+*****4-***++***-<•*+*+*+++*+++*-M*++<l>++*' Speedway Sights on Sunday ^ . A Great Free Show Weekly for + £ New York People, + +■++■*••*+++**++*+*++++++-m++++<-y+-ff^*+*v+++++++++++++++£ Imperial Rome gave its populaco bread and circuses; New York town, more than imperial, as yet provides only the circuses. Dut it is a question if Rome ever spent as much upon its amphitheaters as New York has put into the Speedway and its approaches. Certainly the Speedway at its best helps to put one in love with life and things. For instance, on a fine autumn Sunday morning, when blotches ol red and yellow have sown themselves lightly through the overhanging foliage of Washington Heights. High Bridge and Washington Bridge, springing alertlj from the bold ramp of the heights, span the green, clear breadth of the valle> and etch themselves on the wind-blown hue of the sky. At least half the onlookers are women, tricked out in holiday bravery Children likewise abound, the most part in gay coats, some few in somlpet black ones. But even the black coats have redeeming fripperies of lace anc color in head and ueckgear. ' "> WATCHING THE TROTTERS. Momently some star of the Speedway flashes down the line. Murmurs go all about. “Nathan Straus has Cobwebs out this morning. Pshaw! I was sure he’d drive Alves instead.” "There comes Claus Bohling! Now look out. somebody. He told my cousin's uncle yesterday he had the heels of everything likely to show to-day!” "Albert Bostwick's trainer has got knee boots on Johnnie Again. Yes Bostwick is automobile crazy. Still he has not quite given up horses." • A lean, brownish bay. with fair head, good legs and light middle piece flashes past. One spectator grtns at the sight. Faying Fagely: "David B. looks as though he'd run jest about to match his namesake this morning." Instantly somebody retorts: "Wait till you see hir«i finish! It’s my beliel he's never been quite all out here—no more than the man he’s named for." "Maybe so," says a judicial third person, "but, say, did you hear about old Cobwebs? One day awhile back Straus got two friends to hold watches on the old fellow while he stepped a quarter after he got going for all he was worth, and he made it in 29 seconds flat. What do you think of that? A 1:56 gait for a horse 13 years old—and a faster quarter than ever Cresceus ever trotted in a race.” "He’s a wonder—no mistake," say the onlookers; then huddle to the curb, saying all together in a breath: “And here he comes now! Hurrah! He’s having it out with Dave Lamar and Sally Simpson." Down course two little dust clouds have resolved themseles into flying harnessed racers, with drivers sitting low and close behind. The wagons look cobwebby—hardly stout enough to endure the impact of rapid air. But nobody thinks of that; all hang breathless on the race. The man in front has a strong face, bearded, shrewd-eyed, kindly. The lips are set, the eyes tense, the whole pose full of power. The whip is held upright, the reins tightly clutched; now and again he speaks a low word, too low to he heard by the sidewalk throng, though evidently reaching the ears of his horse. Cobwebs may know intuitively what his master asks. He goes, goes, with the mighty stroke of a machine. His stride is low, his ears are flat against his beautiful chestnut head, his eyeballs flare, but not with temper—he lias the stay and the spirit which, joined with speed, make the horse which does or dies. On, on. he thunders, his head nodding the least bit in fine, faultless rhythm, his quickening hoof heats sounding a march of triumph as his white nose go03 past the post half a length to the good. The battle is not won. Dave Lamar wheels as soon as he can pull up, asks a question mainly with his eyes, is answered with a nod, then, almost wing and wing, the pair race away to the back stretch, and again set sail. This time the mare lies at Cobweb’s wheel—in the first brush she fought for each foot of the way. She is a bay, big and shiny, in the very pink of con dition, a credit alike to her trainer and her sire, the world-famous Electioneer. She goes high, so high it almost seems she scorns the earth, but her reaching plunges devour space. A casual onlooker would say the horse went ten yards to her nine, and covered ground with much more ease to himself. But do what he will, stretch, strain, quicken, he cannot shake her off. She hangs like a bulldog till fifty yards from the wire; then the man in the white hat, who has been sitting statue-like, leans far forward, swishes his whip mightily, calls in shrill, whistling tones, lets out the least bit of a wrap, and the race is over—Cobwebs has lost, though by a narrow margin. A third heat is, of course, inevitable. People forget to gossip, and stand still, save when they crowd for better seeing places. This time the flyers come in view neck and neck, each doing a desperate Ixist from start to finish. How the big, gallant chestnut strains! His motion is r - THE SEEEDWAY. bo swift no eye can follow It; the sulky wheels show only as motionless, shin leg rims magically impelled along the course. And gamely the bay mare keeps at his throat latch, lurching so high she seems to be fencing all the way. Neck and neck, stride and stride, they k*-?p It up until the very last; but tho bay will not be denied; she gets her nose in front by at least six inches. Not a few horse owners have stables close at hand. E. H. Harriman, who owns the famous John It. Gentry, for example, has, right at the Speedway gates, what is said to be the best appointed stable of harness horses anywhere in the world. A dozen others might be named. Indeed, no man can hope for fame upon the Speedway without a consid erable string which includes both blood and speed. A few of them keep only trotters; the most part have at least one pacer, and in not a few instanees the pacers are the true stars. Possibly the most picturesque and certainly the most interesting Speedway personality is Frank Work, the sole survivor of the old-time road brigade that included Robert Bonner, W. H. Vanderbilt and their compeers. Although living as far down as Madison Square, Mr. Work keeps five flyers—Peter Stirling. Mahalla, Pilot Boy, Merle fc'oore and Sea Girl.—Martha McCulloch-Wll Uatns in New York Sun. THE TEST OF TIME. Mrs. Clarq J. Sherbourne, profes sional nurse, of 257 Cmnberlar street, Portland. Maine, says: “I heartily wish those who suffer from some disturbed action of the kid neys would try Doan’s Kidney Pills. They would, like me, he more than surprised. My back annoyed me for years. Physicians who diagnosed my case said it arose from my kidneys. When the grip was epidemic I was worn out with constant nursing, and when l contracted it myself it left me in a very serious condition. I could not straighten nor do the most trivial act without being in torture. The kid neys were too active or the secretlona were too copious, and I knew what was wrong, hut how to right it was a mystery. It seems odd for t. profes sional nurse, who has had a great deal of experience with medicines, to read advertisements about Doan's Kidney Pills in the newspapers, and it may appear more singular for mo to go to H. II. Hay & Son's drug store for a box. Dut 1 did, however; and had anybody told me before that it was possible to get relief as quickly as I did I would have been loth to believe it. You can send anyone who wishes mere minute particulars about my case to me, and 1 will be only too glad to tell them personally. As long as I live I will be a firm advocate of Doan's Kidney Pills.” Cure Confirmed—5 Years Later. "Lapse of time has strengthened my good opinion of Doan’s Kidney Pills, first expressed in the spring of 1896. I said then that had anybody told me that it was possible to get relief as quickly as I did 1 would havo been loth to bellevo It. Years havo passed and my continued freedom from kidney complaint has strengthened my opin ion of Doan's Kidney Pills and given me a much higher appreciation of their merits.” A FREE TRIAL of this great kid ney medicine which cured Mrs. Sher bourne will be mailed on application to any part of the United States. Ad dress Foster-Milburn Co., Buffalo, N. Y. For sale by all druggists. Price 60 cents per box. “Light Refreshments Were Served.” At the feast following the funeral of a centenarian at Vamoshrara, Hun gary, the guests at? two oxen, two pigs, seven lambs and a ton of cakes, w*ila tho liquor consumed included 400 gal lons of wine, six barrels of beer and thirty gallons of brandy. There is more Catarrh in this section of the Country than all other diseases put together, and until the last few years was supposed to be incurable. For a great many years doctors prof Bounced It a local disease, and prescribed local remedies, and by constantly failing to cure with local treatment, pronounced It Incurable? Science has proven catarrh to be a constitu tional disease, and therefore requires consti tutional treatment. Hall's < atarrh Cure, man ufactured by F. J. Cheney <fc Co.. Toledo. Ohio, ts the only constitutional euro on the market) It Is taken internally in doses from 10 drops b* a teaspoonful. It acts directly upon the hloo<* snd mucous surfaces of the system. They offer ane hundred dollars for any case it fails tocure. Send for circulars an.' testimonials. Address F. J. CHENEY & CO., Toledo, Ohio. Sold by Druggists, 75c. Hulls Family Fills are the best. A man may do worse than read po etry. He may attempt to write it. Iowa Farms $4 Per Acre Cach, nslaace H crop till paid. MU 1.11 ALL, Sioux City, la.' Avarice is always poor, out poor by its own fault. i THOSE WHO HAVE THIRD IT will use no other Defiance Cold Water Starch hns no equal in Quantity or Qual ity—If! oz for lo cents, otner brands contain only U oz. Justice bolds equal scales for out siders as well for insiders. Mrs, Wluslows simttitnit Syrna For children teething, ►•iftcn* tno ixutns, reduce* !n« iaimnatlou, ajlayn j#alu. curt*# wiud colic. Ujcaboltifl* A man of high berth is one who oc cupies an “upper” in a sleeping car. The little folks love Dr. "Wood's Worwsy Pine Syrup. Pleasant to take, perfectly aarmless. 1’ositive euro for coughs, colds, bronchitis, asthma. Men are not nearly so wise as wo men let them think they are. INSIST O.N t.ETTINO IT. Borne grocers say they don't keep De ll h nee Starch because they have a stock in hand of 12 >z brands, which they know cannot be sold to a customer who has once used the 16 oz. pkg. Detinue* Starch for same money. “The laborer is worthy of his hire,” but unfortunately worthiness Is not always a winner. IF YOU USE 1UI.L HI.UE, Get Red Cross Ball Bluo, the best Ball Bias. Large - oz. package only 5 cents. Women don't Idealize men, for they never have a chance to. To Ctiro a C7ol«l In One day. Take Laxative Bromo Quinlno Tablets. All druggists refund money if it fails to cure. 25c. The gangway seems to bo the path that leads to political glory. Moth** Oray*s Sweet Powders for Children Successfully used by Mother Gray, nurse In the Children's Home in New York. Cures Feverishness, Bad Stomach, Teething Dis orders, move and regulate the Bowels and Destroy Worms. Over 3D,000 testimonials. At all druggists, 25c. Sample FREK. Ad dress Allen S. Olmsted. LeKoy, N. Y. No one wants to put out the female who is ablazo with diamonds. You can do your dyeing In half an hour with PUTNAM FADELESS DYES. If a man is a failure he la sure It Is some woman’s fault. Superior quality and extra quantity must win. This Is why Doflanco Starch is taking the place of all others. Dress does not make the woman, but it often breaks the husband. A household necessity. Dr. Thomas’ Eo lectrio Oil. Honls burns, cuts, wounds of any sort; cures sore throat, croup, catarrh, asthma; never fails. If all men were wise all women ~ would be sensible. "*T Try me just once ana I am sure to come again. Defiance Starch.