TEE INVENTIONS OF HAWKINS
gyp EDGAR FRANKUN
THE AUTO-AERO MOBILE.
1 We were sitting on my porch, smok
ing placidly in the sunset glow, when
Hawkins aroused himself from a mo
mentary reverie and remarked:
"Now, if the body were made of
aluminum it would be far lighter and
just as strong, wouldn’t it?”
"Probably, Hawkins,” I replied, “but
it would also be decidedly stiff and in
convenient. Just imagine how one’s
aluminum knees would crackle and
bend going up and down-stairs, and
what an awful job one would have
conforming one’s aluminum spinal col
umn to the back of a chair.”
“No, no, no, no,” cried Hawkins, im
patiently. “I don't mean the human
body, Griggs; I-”
"I’m glad to hear it,” I said. “Don’t
you go to inventing an aluminum man,
Hawkins. Good, old-fashioned flesh
and bones have been giving thorough
satisfaction for the past few thousand
years, and it would be wiser for you
to turn your peculiar talents toward—”
"There! there! That will do!”
snapped the inventor, standing stiffly
erect and throwing away his cigar.
“This is not the first time that that
mistaken humor of yours has pre
vented your absorbing new ideas,
Griggs. Incidenta.ly, I may mention
that I was referring to the body of an
automobile. Good evening!”
Whereupon Hawkins stalked up the
road in the direction of his summer
home, and I wondered for a minute if
his words might not be prophetic of
future trouble.
Now, where an aspersion is cast
upon his inventive genius, Hawkins is
quick to anger, but usually he is equal
ly ready to forgive and forget. Hence
it astonished me that two whole weeks
passed without the appearance of his
genial countenance on my premises.
They were really two weeks of peace
unbroken, but I had begun to think
that it might be better for me to stroll
over and beg pardon for my levity
when one bright morning Hawkins
came chug-chugging up the drive in a
huge, new, red automobile.
It was of the type so constructed
that the two rear seats of the car
may be dropped off at will, convert
ing it into a carriage for two, and the
only peculiar detail I noted was the
odd-looking top or canopy.
"Well, what do you think of her?”
demanded Hawkins with some pride.
"She’s all right,” I said, admiringly.
"Body’s built of aluminum.” con
tinued the inventor. “Jump in and
feel the action of her.”
As I have said, barring the canopy,
the thing appeared to be an ordinary
touring-car, and I was tired of lolling
in the hammock. Without misgiving,
I climbed in beside Hawkins, and he
turned back to the road.
The auto did run beautifully. I had
never been in a machine that was so
totally indifferent to rough spots.
When we came to a hillock, we
simply floated over it. If we reached
an uncomfortably sharp turn, the auto
seemed to rise and cut it off with
hardly a swerve.
Once or twice I noticed that Haw
kins deliberately steered out of the
road and into big rocks; but the auto,
in the most peculiar manner, just
touched them and bounced over with
never a jar.
In fact, after two miles of rather
heavy going, I suddenly realized that
I hadn’t experienced the slightest of
jolts.
“Hawkins,” I observed, "the man
that made the springs under this thing
must have been a magician.”
“Well, well!” said the inventor. “On
to it at last that there is something
out of the ordinary about this auto,
are you? But it's not the springs, my
dear boy. it's not the springs!”
“What is it?”
“Griggs,” said Hawkins, beaming
upon me, “you are riding in the first
and only Hawkins’ Auto-aero-mobile!
That’s what it is!”
“Another invention!” I gasped.
"Yes, another invention. What the
deuce are you turning pale about?”
“Well, your inventions, Hawkins—”
“Don’t be such a coward, Griggs.
Except that I had the body built of
aluminum, this is just an ordinary
automobile. The invention lies in the
canopy. It’s a balloon!”
“Yes, sir. Just at present it’s a bal
loon with not quite enough gas in it
to counterbalance the pull of gravita
tion on the car and ourselves. I’ve got
two cylinders of compressed gas still
connected with it. When I let them
feed automatically into the balloon,
and then automatically drop the iron
cylinders themselves in to the road,
we shall fairly bound over the ground,
because the balloon will just a trifle
more than carry the whole outfit.”
“Well, don't waste all that good gas,
Hawkins," I said hastily. “I can—I
can understand perfectly just how we
should bound without that.’ ’
“Don't worry about the gas.” smiled
Hawkins placidly. “It costs practical
ly nothing. There! One of the cylin
ders is discharging now.”
I glanced timidly above. Sure
enough, the canopy was expanding
slowly and assuming a spherical shape.
Presently a thud announced that
Hawkins had dropped the cylinder.
Then he pulled another lever, and the
process was repeated.
As the second cylinder dropped, we
rose nearly a foot into the air. Still
we maintained a forward motion, and
that was puzzling.
“How is it, Hawkins,” I quavered.
“that we’re still going ahead when we
don’t touch the ground more than
once in a hundred feet’.'”
“That’s the propeller,” chuckled the
inventor. "I put a propeller at the
back, so that the auto is almost a
dirigible balloon. Oh, there’s nothing
lacking about the Hawkins Auto-aero
mobile, Griggs. 1 can tell you.”
When I had recovered from the first
nervous shock, the contrivance really
did not seem so dangerous.
We traveled in long, low leaps, the j
machine rarely rising more than a foot
from the ground, and the motion was
certainly unique and rather pleasant.
Nevertheless, I have a haunting fear
of anything invented by Hawkins, and
my mind would insist upon wandering
to thoughts of home.
“Not going down-town, are you, Haw
kins?” 1 asked with what carelessness
I could assume.
"Just for a minute. I want some
cigars."
“Hawkins," I murmured, “you are a
pretty heavy man. When you get out
of this budding airship, it won’t soar
into the heavens with me, will it?”’
“It would if 1 got out,” said the in
ventor, with pleasant assurance. “But
I’m not going to get out. We'll let the
cigar man bring the stuff to us."
So it would rise if any weight left
the car! That was food for thought.
Suppose Hawkins, who operated the
auto according to the magazine pic
tures of racing chauffeurs, leaning tar
forward, should topple into the road?
Suppose, a stray breeze should tilt the
machine and throw out some part?
Up without doubt, we should go, and
there seemed to be quite an open
The square, be it remarked, is in the
center of the town. The court house
stands on one side, the postoffice on
the other, and the square itself is a
beautifully kept lawn.
We were just in sight of the grass
when I fancied that I detected a rattle.
"What's that noise, Hawkins?” I
said.
"Give it up. Something in the ma
chinery. It’s nothing.”
“But I seem to feel a peculiar shak
ing in the machine,” I persisted.
“You seem to feel a great many
things that don't exist, Griggs,” re
marked Hawkins, with a touch of con
tempt.
“But-”
“Hey, mister!” yelled a small boy.
"Hey! Yer back seat’s failin’ off!”
"What did he say?” muttered Haw
kins, too full of importance to turn his
head.
“Hey! Hey!" cried the youngster,
pursuing us. “Dat back seat's most
fell off!”
"What!” shrieked Hawkins, whirl
ing about. “Good Lord! So it is!
Catch it, Griggs, catch it quick!”
I turned. The boy was right. The
rear seats of the automobile had man
aged to detach themselves.
In fact, even as we stared, they were
hanging by a single bolt, and the head
of that was missing.
"Griggs! Griggs!” shouted Hawkins,
wildly endeavoring to stop the engine.
"Grab those seats before they fall! I
didn’t screw ’em on with a wrench—
only used my hands—but I supposed
they were fast. Heavens! If they
drop, we shall go-”
across the common, quite regardless of
the “Keep Off the Grass” signs.
“How they will stare when we step
out on the roof, won’t they?” ob
served Hawkins.
"If we don’t step out on thetr
heads!” I snapped. “Steer away from
those telegraph wires. Hawkins.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” said the in
ventor. nervously regarding the 30 or
40 wires strung directly across our
path. “Queer this thing doesn’t re
spond more readily!”
“Well, make her respond!” I cried,
excitedly, for the wires were danger
ously near. *
“I’m doing my best, Griggs,” grunted
the inventor, twisting this wheel and
pulling that lever. “Don’t worry, we’ll
sail over them ail right. We’ll just—
pshaw!”
With a gentle, swaying kind of bump,
the auto stopped. We had grounded,
so to speak, on the telegraph wires.
"That's the end of this trial trip!” I
remarked, caustically. "The epilogue
will consist of the scene we create in
distributing our brains over that green
grass below.”
“Oh, tut, tut!” said Hawkins. "This
is nothing serious. I’ll just start the
propeller on the reverse and we'll
float off backward."
"Well, w'ait. a minute before you
start it,” I said. "They’re shouting
something.”
“Don’t jump! Don’t jump!” cried
the crowd.
“Who the dickens is going to jump?”
replied Hawkins, angrily, leaning over
the side. "Fools!” he observed to me.
"The hook and ladder's coming!”
continued a stentorian voice.
Ping Went the Last Wire.
space up above, through which we
might travel indefinitely without hit
ting anything that would stay our
celestial journey.
“How do you let the gas out of the
balloon, Hawkins?” I ventured pres
ently.
“Oh, the cock’s down underneath the
machine,” said that gentleman briefly.
! “Don't worry, Griggs. I'm here.”
That, in a nutshell, was just what
| was worrying me. but there seemed to
be nothing more to say. I relapsed
into silence.
We rolled or floated or bounced, or
whatever you may choose to call it,
into town without accident or inci
dent. People stared considerably at i
the kangaroo antics of our car, and
one or two horses, after their first
g?ance, developed furor transitorius
on the spot; but Hawkins maraged to
| pull up before his cigar store, which
: was in the outskirts of the town,
without kicking up any very serious
j disturbance.
The cigars aboard. I had hoped to
! turn my face Homeward. Not so Haw
! kins.
“Now. down we go to the square,”
he cried buoyantly, "do a turn before
the court house, float straight over the
common, and then bounce away home.
I guess it’ll make the natives talk, eh,
Griggs? ’
“Your things usually do, Hawkins,”
I sighed. "But why perform to-day?
This is only the first trial trip. Some
thing might go wrong.”
“My dear boy,” laughed the in
ventor, “this is one of those trial trips
that simply can’t go wrong, because
every detail is perfected to the utter
most limit.”
That settled it; we made for the
square.
Just at that moment a sudden jolt
sent the seats into the road.
Two hundred pounds of solid mate
rial had left the Hawkins Auto-aero
mobile!
Hawkins didn’t have to finish the
sentence. It became painfully evident i
where we should go.
We went up!
Up, up, up! In the suddenness of it,
it seemed to me that we were shooting
straight for the midday sun, that an
other thirty seconds would see us fry
ing in the solar flames.
As I gripped the cushions, I believe
that I shrieked with terror.
But Hawkins, scared though he was.
didn't lose his head entirely. The
machine hadn’t turned turtle. It was
ascending slowly in its normal atti
tude, and as a matter of cold fact we
hadn't risen more than thirty feet
when Hawkins remarked, shakily:
“There, there, Griggs! Sit still! It’s
all right. We’re safe!”
“Safe!” I gasped, when sufficient
breath had returned. "It looks as if we
w-ere safe, doesn’t it?”
"N-n-never mind how it looks,
Griggs. We are. The propeller’s
working now.”
“What good does that do us?” I de
manded.
“Good!” cried the inventor, pulling
himself together. “Why, we shall
simply steer for the roof of a house
and alight.”
"Always provided that this cursed
contrivance doesn’t heave us out first!”
“Oh, it won't,” smiled Hawkins, set
tling down to his machinery once
more. "Dear me, Griggs, do look at
the crowd!”
There was indeed a crowd. They
had sprung up on the instant, and
they were racing along beneath us
“Well’s they'll have their trouble for
their pains,” snapped Hawkins. “We
shall be on the ground before they get
here.”
"Why not wait?” I said. “We’ll be
sure to get down safely that way. and
you don’t know what you may do by
starting the machinery. The wires are
all mixed up in it, and they may smash
and drag us down, or upset us, Haw
kins.”
“Criftik! Croak! Croak!" replied
Hawkins, sourly. “Go on and croak
till your dying day. Griggs. If any
one ever offers a prize for a pessi
mistic alarmist, you take my advice
and compete. You'll win. I’m going
to start the engine and get out of
this.”
He pulled the reverse lever, and the
engine buzzed merrily. The auto in
dulged in a series of unwholesome con
vulsive shivers, but it didn't budge.
“Hey! Hey!" floated up from the
crowd.
“Oh, look and see what they’re howl
ing about now." growled Hawkins.
The cause of their vociferations was
only too apparent.
Ping! Ping! Ping! One by one,
sawed in two by the machine, the tele
graph wires were snapping!
“Stop it! Stop it, Hawkins!” I cried,
down the ladder like a couple of con
confounded Italian women in a tene
ment house fire."
Hawkins sat back witf, j, fallen
scowl. I drew a long breath of re
lief. and began to scan the landscape
for signs of the hook and ladder com
pany.
They were a long time in coming.
Meanwhile, we were hanging in space,
a frisky balloon overhead, and below,
Hawkins’ engine having considerately
THEY WERE TOO SCIENTIFIC.
Southern lumbermen take great de
light in a story of certain scientific
gentlemen who were sent by the gov
ernment at Washington to study the
growth and uses of the bald cypress,
at a time when cypress lumber was
comparatively new to the market.
They went direct to a large camp,
presented credentials to the superin
tendent, and watched with minute
care the processes of cutting the tim
ber and floating it down stream.
Cypress is a light, spongy wood
that grows in swamps and absorbs wa
ter readily. The scientific gentlemen
requested the superintendent to throw
some logs into the river separate
from the main rafts, and followed
their progress down stream in a boat.
After- floating south for some distance,
the logs with one accord sank. Much
surprised, the scientific gentlemen
returned and followed another con
signment. The phenomenon was re
peated; at a certain distance from
the camp all the logs sank. The gen
tlemen from Washington, being very
scientific, did not think to question
the unlettered superintendent aTwut
the power of cypress to become wa
ter-logged, but after numerous ob
servations and much comparing of
notes, reported to their department
the startling discovery that cypress
floated north of a certain parallel of
latitude, and south of it/ invariably
sank. Of the cause they were not
yet certain, but hazarded the sug
gestion that it might lie in the rotary
motion of the earth, increasing in
speed as the logs approached the
equator until it was powerful enough
to draw them under.—American Mag
azine.
left a little of the telegraph company’s
property uninjured, six telegraph wires
and a gaping crowd.
But the ladders couldn’t be very far
off now, and we seemed safe enough,
until
“What’s that sizzling, Hawkins?’’ I
inquired.
“I don't know,” he replied, gruffly
“Well, why don’t you try to find
out?” I said, sharply. “It seems to me
that we’re resting pretty heavily on
those wires.”
"Indeed ?”
“Yes.” I glanced out at the balloon
canopy. “Great Scott, Hawkins, the
balloon’s leaking!”
“Eh? What?” he cried, suddenly
galvanized into action. “Where,
Griggs, where?”
"I don’t know. But that's what is
happening. See how the wires are
sagging—more and more every sec
ond.”
“Great Caesar's ghost! Listen. Yes,
the wires must have hit the escape
valve. Why, the gas is simply pouring
out of the balloon. And the machine’s
getting heavier and heavier. And
we’re just resting oa those six wires,
Griggs! Oh, Lord!”
“And presently, Hawkins, we shall
break the wires and drop?” I sug
gested with forced calm.
"Yes, yes!” cried the inventor.
“What’ll we do, Griggs, what’ll we
do?”
Frightened as I was, I couldn't see
what wras to he gained by hysterics.
“I presume,” I said, “that the best
thing is to sit still and wait for the
end.”
“Stop it! Stop it, Hawkins!” I cried.
“You’re smashing the wires!”
“Well, suppose I am? That'll let us
out, won't it?”
“See here.” I said, sternly, “if an
all-wise Providence should happen to
spare us from being dragged down
and dashed to pieces, consider the bill
for repairs which you’ll have to foot.
You stop that engine, Hawkins, or
I’ll do it myself.”
“Well-” said the inventor, doubt
fully. “There! Now be satisfied. I've
stopped it, and we’ll wait and be taken
down the ladder like a couple of con
founded Italian women in a tenement
house fire.”
Hawkins sat back with a sullen
scowl. I drew a long breath of re
lief. and began to scan the landscape
for signs of the hook and ladder com
pany.
They were a long time in coming.
Meanwhile, we were hanging in space,
a frisky balloon overhead, and below,
Hawkins’ engine having considerately
left a little of the telegraph company's
property uninjured, six telegraph
wires and a gaping crowd.
But the ladders couldn't be very far
oil now, and we seemed safe enough,
until—
“What’s that sizzling, Hawkins?" I
inquired.
“I ilon t know." he replied, gruffly.
“Well, why don't you try to find
out?” I said, sharply. “It seems to
me that we're resting pretty heavily
on those wires.”
“Indeed?”
"Yes. but think, man, think of that
awful drop! Forty feet, if it’s an
inch!”
"Fully.”
“Why, we’ll simply be knocked to
flinders!”
“Oh. the idiots! The idiots!" raged
Hawkins, shaking his fists at the
crowd. “Why didn't they bring a fire
net? Why hasn't one of them sense
enough to get one? We could jump
then.”
Ping! The first of the six wires
had snapped.
Ping! The second had followed
suit.
The Hawkins Auto-aero-mobile was
very delicately balanced now on four
slim wires, and the balloon was col
lapsing with heart-rending rapidity.
From below sounds of excitement
were audible, here and there a groan
and now a scream of horror, as some
new-comer realized our position.
“Hawkins,” I said, solemnly, “why
don’t you make a vow right now that
if we ever get out of this alive-”
Ping! went the third wire. The
auto auto swayed gently for a mo
ment.
“You’ll never invent another thing
as long as you live?”
“Griggs,” said Hawkins, in trem
bling tones, “I almost believe that
you are right. Where on earth can
that hook and ladder be? Yes, you
are right. I’ll do—I’ll—can you see
them yet, Griggs? I'll do it! I
swear-”
Ping Ping! Ping!
Still sitting upon the cushions, I
felt my heart literally leap into my
throat. My eyes closed before a sud
den rush of wind. My hands gripped
out wildly.
For one infinitesimal second, I was
astonished at the deathly stillness of
everything. Then the roar of a thou
sand voices nearly deafened me, the
seat seemed to hurl me violently into
the air, for another brief instant I
shot through space. Then my hands
clutched some one’s hair, and I
crashed- to the ground, with an oblig
ing stout man underneath.
And I knew that I still lived!
Well, the auto had dropped—that
was all. Ready hands placed me
upon my feet. Vaguely I realized
that Dr. Brotherton, our physician,
was running his fingers rapidly over
my anatomy.
Later he addressed me through a
dreamland haze and said that not a
bone was broken. I recall giving him
a foolish smile and thanking him
politely.
Some 20 feet away I was conscious
that Hawkins was chattering volubly
to a crowd of eager faces. His own
features were bruised almost beyond
recognition, but he, too, was evident
ly on this side of the River Jordan,
and I felt a faint sense of irritation
that the Auto-aero-mobile hadn’t
made an end of him.
My wits must have remained some
time aloft for a last inspection of the
spot where ended our aerial flight.
Certainly they did not wholly return
until I found myself sitting beside
Hawkins in Brotherton’s carriage.
We were just driving past a pile of
red scrap-metal that had once been
tlie auto, and the wondering crowd
was parting to let us through.
“Well, that's the end of your aero
thingamajig, Hawkins,” I observed,
with deep satisfaction.
“Oh. yes, experience is expensive,
but a great teacher,” replied the in
ventor. thickly, removing a wet cloth
from his much lacerated upper lip to
permit speech. "When I build the
next one-”
“You'll have to get a divorce be
fore you build the next one,’’ I added,
with still deeper satisfaction, as I
pictured in imagination the lively lit
tle domestic fracas that awaited
Hawkins.
If his excellent lady gets wind of
the doings in his “workshop,” Haw
kins rarely invents the same thing
twice.
“Well. then, if I build another,”
corrected Hawkins, sobering sudden
ly, “I shall be careful not to use that
rear arrangement at all. I shall place
the valve of the balloon where I can
get at it more easily. I shall-”
“Mr. Hawkins.” said Brotherton,
abruptly. "I thought I asked you to
keep that cloth over your mouth until
I get you where I can sew up that
lip.”
Apart from any medical bearing,
it struck me that that remark indi
cated good, sound sense on Brother
ton's part.
(Copyright, 1906. by \V. G. Chapman.)
Acted as Aids of Cupid.
Combinations of Circumstances That j
Materially Aided the God
c? Lavs.
A sea captain called at a village inn
and asked the landlady, a young
widow:
“Do you know where I can get a
mate? I have lost my mate."
•‘I am very sorry for you, Mr. -,”
she said, smiling. “I want, a mate,
too, and cannot get one. As we are in
the same position. I'll tell you what
I’ll do: if you’ll be mine, I will be
yours! ”
He closed with the bargain, and, the
widow keeping her word, he is now
supplied with two mates.
A doctor who had saved the life of
a woman, a personal friend, was asked
his charge. He said he generally al
lowed his patient friends to remuner
ate him as they thought befitting.
“But don't you often get disappoint
ed on these terms?” she inquired.
“I may say, never.”
“As you are so easily pleased, here,”
and she playfully gave him her empty
hand, while in the other was con
cealed a check for a handsome stint.
“How easily I could have taken you
in!” she added, producing the check.
“But you have only succeeded in
drawing me out," he said, declining to
relinquish her hand. "Don’t insult me
with a check: I am most generously
rewarded.”
Perhaps she understood the doctor’s
difficulty and wished to help him out of
it. At any rate, the giving of her
hand led him to offer his heart.
While in a tobacconist's shop a gen
tleman asked a girl behind the counter,
who happened to have red hair, if she
would oblige him with a match.
“With pleasure, if you will have a
redheaded one,” she promptly replied,
with such a suggestive, demure smile
that she aroused his interest.
Furfher conversation proved her to
be a person worthy of regard, and
eventually the redheaded match was
handed over.
QUAKES HARD TOTORETELL
Scientists Only Know That Some
Regions Are Less Liable to Dis
turbance Than Others.
No prediction can be made safely as
! to future earthquakes in any particular
j region, writes Rollin D. Salisbury, in
The World To-day. If any conjecture
I is warranted, it is merely that regions
; which are known to have contracted
the earthquake habit are. on the whole,
: more likely to quake in the future than
! tire regions which have long been free
from seismic disturbances.
No parr of the continent seems less
likely to be shaken than the Mississip
pi basin. Yet there were disastrous
earthquakes about the mouth of the
Ohio river in 1811-13. Regions covered
with thick layers of clay, sand, gravel,
glacial drift, etc., like much of the
basin of the upper Mississippi, are less
likely to suffer severely than those
where solid rock comes to the surface,
for the loose material acts as a cushion
to deaden the vibrations which come
to the surface from the solid rock be
low.
The movements which result from
crustal adjustments due to the shrink
ing interior may be more or less
periodic, even though their cause is
in constant operation. The crust
yields only when the stress at some
place has become too great for the
strength of the rocks of the crust at
that place. Yielding in one place, or in
one great area, often seems to afford
adjustment or relief over a wider area.
Earthquakes in California, therefore,
are no indication that earthquakes are
imminent in Denver or Chicago or New
York.
IT APPEALED TO HER
“Would you not like to fly with me
to some hidden part of the world,” asks
the enamored youth, “where the false
conventions of modern society are
things unknown, where the hampering
requirements of our present civiliza
tion are unheard of, where the people
live near to nature's heart, dreaming
naught of our silly changes of fashion,
knowing naught of the allurements of
hats and dresses and—”
“O Harold!” exclaims the
sweet
young thing. “Is there such a place?
Oh, how wonderful it would be to go
there! ”
“Do you mean that you would go?”
he cries, his voice thrilling with a
wondrous upsurging of soul.
"Would I? It would be heavenly!
Think of being able to introduce all
the latest things in bridge and shirt
waists and bonnets among those wom
en, and make them realize what fright
ful back numbers they are!”—Life.
Near Edgertcn, Wis., tle-e is a
community of Seventh Day Baptists,
or Sabbatarians, as they call them
selves, among whom there are a good
many men and women who continue
to cling to the stern belief of the an
cient Anabaptists. With these peo
pie the Sabbath begins at tlfe moment
the upper edge of the sun’s disk dis
appears beyond the western hills on
Friday evening. From that time until
sunset on Saturday they keep their
Sabbath as strictly as farmers ever
may. "Remember the Sabbath day to
keep it holy” is apparently the rock
upon which their creed is founded,
and being ready at all times to prove
by the Bible itself that Saturday is
the real Sabbath, that day is given up
to pious meditation and enthusiastic
worship of the Creator.
The religious zeal of these people
sometimes takes queer forms. A good
Sabbatarian always considers it his
duty to make as much noise as he can
on Sunday, perhaps for the purpose
of proclaiming to the world that his
Sabbath is past, or it may be to awake
the devil and thus give him an oppor
tunity to get after those Christians
who, according to his belief, sin griev
ously in conducting their devotional
exercises on the first instead of on the
seventh day of the week. A stranger
who is spending his first Sunday in
this Sabbatarian community will be
surprised when he gets up in the
morning to hear a distant boom, such
as is produced by the firing of a
cannon.
“Is there a fort near here?’’ he asks.
“No,” replies his host; “used to be
one at Fort Atkinson, but there ain't
been any soldiers there for 50 years. I
guess.”.
Presently there is another loud re
port.
“There must be some big quarries
near here.” says the stranger.
A minute or two later a third shot
is fired.
“What is that?" inquires the stran
ger. “Is some railroad company blast
ing out a cut through the rocks near
here?”
“No. Them's Sabbatarians blastin'
stumps with dynamite. They do that
every Sunday. You'll never hear 'em
blastin’ at any other time. Stumps is
gettin’ sort of scarce, and they have
to save ’em up for Sundays, when
other people’s goin' to church.”
It is related of a good old Sabba
tarian who owned a strip of ground
near a church in which members of
another sect were wont to worship
that he built a shed beside the sacred
edifice, some years ago, taking pains
to work upon it only on Sundays. It
was his habit to go to work just as the
people in the little church were be
ginning their exercises, and zealously
he would pound away, making so much
noise that—according to his hope and
belief—the Lord might hear neither
the preacher's sermon nor the prayers
that were offered up by the congrega
tion. It is said that this pious man
worked for two or three seasons on his
shed, taking a whole summer for the
shingling alone. He is dead now. and
Sabbatarians who are as strong in
the faith as he was are glad to believe
that his glory is great in Heaven for
the service he rendered.
Square dealing, sobriety and high
moral standards are noticeable among
the Sabbatarians of southern Wiscon
sin. They have good farms which they
industriously cultivate: they raise fine
stock, and they have given useful men
to thetr state and to the nation.
Their numbers, however, are grad
ually decreasing, not that race suicide
is to be charged against them, but be
cause their children cannot be held
within the prescribed spiritual bounds.
Commercialism is sapping the lift
blood of the colony. A man who has
gained prominence as a lawyer here
in Chicago and whose ancestors were
among the Sabbatarians who came
from the east many years ago to set
tle in the near Edgerton, explains it
thus:
‘‘In these days of business activity
and freedom of thought few men art
willing to sacrifice what amounts to
more than one-fourth of their time in
the purpose of emphasizing a religious
belief. The Sabbatarian cannot do
business with other people on Sunday,
and he will not have dealings with
them on Saturday. He loses two days
a week and finds himself at a serious
disadvantage when he goes out in the
world. This may in a measure account
for the fact that no Sabbatarian has
ever grown very rich, and it certainly
has a strong tendency to make the
sons and daughters of Seventh Day
Baptists gradually drift away from
what their fathers and mothers con
sidered the true belief.”
Occasionally even the strict Sabba
tarian finds it necessary to subject his
conscience to severe strains. On a
recent Friday afternoon Brother
Judson. whose farm nestles among the
hills near Lake Koshonong. found that
it was going to be impossible for him
to get all of his oats cut before sun
down. The grain was dead ripe and to
let it stand another day would mean
a considerable loss, especially if there
happened to be a storm. At six o'clock
he was working as hard as he could
and urging his hired men to do their
best. Finally, about 15 minutes before
sunset he saw that it would be impos
sible to finish work in the allotted
time, and in pathetic tones he cried
out:
"Oh. if it would only cloud up a lit
tle, so we couldn't see when the sun
went down, we could finish the job yit
without no harm bein' done."—Chica
go Record-Herald.
Lack Religious Care.
A daily paper is responsible for the
statement that a single county in Ne
vada, covering 16,000 square miles, has
nowhere within its borders even a mis
sion hall in which the Gospel is
preached, and yet it has a population
of several thousand people.
Mean Neighbor.
“How do you like your new next
door neighbor?”
“Don't like him at all. He's a con
temptible fellow. Instead of owning
a lawn mower that I could borrow he
has his grass cut by contract."—
Cleveland Plain Dealer.