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About The Loup City northwestern. (Loup City, Neb.) 189?-1917 | View Entire Issue (Oct. 4, 1906)
A FOOL FOR LOVE By FRANCIS LYNDE author OF "THE GRAFTERS." etc. (Copjrtgbi, im. t j J. i* igppisaou Cc-i CHAPTER VIII.—Continued. But Mr. Darrah cnatted on. affably non-committal, and after a time Win on began to upbraiu himself for sus pecting the ulterior motive. By no word or hint did the vice president refer to the stn ggie pendent between i the two companies or to the warlike incident of the morning. And when he finally rose to excuse himself on a letter-writing plea, his leave-taking was that of the genial host reluctant to part company with his guest. 'Tve enjoyed your conve’sation. >eh; enjoyed it right much. Most j Jiappy to have had the pleasure or your company, Misteh Winton. May I hope you will faveh us often while ] we are neighbors?” Winton rose, made the proper ac- 1 icnowledgments. and would have crossed the compartment to make his i ielieux to Mrs. Carteret. But at that ! moment Virginia, taking advantage of i Adams’ handshaking with the Rajah, ame between. “You re not going yet, are you, Mr. j Winton? Don’t hurry. If you are ' iying to smoke a pipe, as Mr. Adams -ays you are, we can go out on the platform. It isn’t too cold, is it?” Not the words themse ves, but uer manner of saying them, warmed him -so suddenly tnat an Arctic winter’s night would not have been prohib itory. “It is clear and frosty, a beautiful j night,” he hastened to say. “May I aelp you with your coat?” She suffered him. but in the height ! ■f the heart-warming glow gave him J j cold douche ir. a word to Bessie. ‘Won’t yn come. too. Bessie, dear?" ! she asked; and Winton set the w^iole ' battery of his will at wcrk to fend oft the threatened calamity. Happi.y, it averted itself. Miss Bes sie was quite comfortable as she was tnd begged to be excused. Mrs. Car ■eret in her capacity of chaperon looked askance at \ irginia, was met by a glance of the resolute brown eyes which she had come to obey without fully understanding, and contented herself a monitory: “Don’t stay out too long, Virginia. It is dreadful !;• cold." So presently Winton had his heart's | desire, which was to be alone with Virginia; alone, we say, though the ! privacy of tne square raj^ed platform ! was that of the ear only. For the gathering-room of the Rosemary, with its lights and eyes, gave directly upon the rear platform through the two fall-length windows and the glass door. Now in whatsoever aspect the moun tain skyland presents itself—and its aspects are numberless—that of a starlit winter night, when the heaven iights burn clear in a black dome for which the mighty peaks themselves' are the visible supports, is not the least impressive. So. for a little I rime, awe challenging awe in these two had much in common, tongue and lip were silent, and when they spoke it was of the immensities. "Does your profession- often open such wide doors to you, Mr. Winton?" ! It gave him an exquisite thrill to j know that her mood marched so even-! ;y with his own. “Outside of the office work, which l have always evaded when I could, the doors are ail pretty wide. One ’ year I was on the Mexican boundary survey—you can picture those silent! nights in the desert. Another time I was with the Geodetic on the coast; ! sinc-e that winter the booming of the surf has been the constant undertone for me in all music.” “Ah, yes, in music. You must love music if you can associate it with •his.” “I do, indeed. I would build it the crandps t of the temples, though I should be only a mute lay-worshiper in It myself.” She smiled. “That temple must al ways have two high priests, one who prophesies and one who interprets. I •an't play without a sympathetic lis tener.” “I wish you might play for me sometime. You would have to be very exacting if you could find fault with my appreciation." “Would I? But we are riding away on my hobby after we had fairly mounted yours.” He laughed. “Mine is only a heavy cart-horse, not fit for riding,” he said. “You shouldn't say that It is a man's work—yours.” And he made sure there was a note of regret in her voice when she added: “No woman ran ever share it with you. or help you in it.” "I should be sorry to believe that,” he rejoined, quickly. “The best part of any man's work may be shared by the woman who wills—and dares.” She gave him a flitting glance of intelligence. “How strangely chance whips us about from post to pillar. Two even ings ago I was foolish enough to— well, you know what I did. And now we have changed places and you are telling me what a woman may do—if she dare.” But he would not admit the prem ises. “If the one were foolish, so is the other. But I can’t allow that to stand. I shall always be the better for what you said to me the other evening.” “I don't know why you should; you didn’t need it in the least,” she pro tested. "If I had known then what 1 know now, I should have said some thing quite different.” “Say it now, if you wish.” “May I? But I have no right. Be sides, it would sound like the basest of recantations.” “Would it? Nevertheless, I should like'to hear it.” She nerved herself for the plunge— her uncle's plunge—doubting more than ever. "Your part in the building of this other railroad is purely a business af fair. is it not?” “My personal interest? Quite so; a mere matter of dollars and <rents. you may say.” She went on, entirely missing the irony in his reply. “You did not know the difficulties before you came here?” "Only in a general way. I knew there was opposition, and—well. I'm not just a novice in this sort of thing, and if I may be allowed to boast a little, I knew my appointment was owing to Mr. Callowell’s belief in my ability to carry it through.” “You are not smoking." she said. "Haven’t you your pipe1’” She was finding it desperately hard to go on. “If you don't mind.” he returned; but when he had pipe and tobacco in hand she plunged again. “You say your interest in this other railroad—your personal interest—is only that cf—cf an employe. If you should have another offer, from some other company—” He smiled. “Put yourself in my place, Miss Virginia. What would you do?” She* tried to think it out. and in the process the doubt grew and over whelmed her. “I—I don't know,” she faltered. "If, as you say, it is only a question of so much money to be earned—” He started as if she struck him with a whip. “That is not your argument; it is Mr. Darrah’s.” Then his voice took a deeper tcne that thrilled her till she wanted to cry out. “Don't say you want me to give up; please don't say that. I think I have been putting “If we must; but not until I bare thanked you for your timely hint of yesterday morning. It saved me no end of trouble.” “The telegram? Mr. Adams sent that. And besides, it was meant to bn I a scolding.” I "I have no doubt Adams sent the j wire, but he didn’t write it. Or. if he did, he also wrote our invitation : to dinner. They are in the same j hand, you know.” She laughed again. “1 think it is quite time we were going in.” she averred, and he opened the door for ! her. If Mr. John Winton, C. E.. stood in need of a moral tonic, as Adams had so delicately intimated to Miss Bessie Carteret, it was administered in quantity sufficient before he slept on the night of dinner-givings. For a clear-eyed Technologian, free from all heart-trammelings and able to grasp the unsentimental fact, the enemy’s new plan of campaign wrote itself quite legibly. With his pick and choice among the time-killing ex pedients the Rajah could scarcely have found one mere to his purpose than the private car Rosemary, in cluding in its passenger list a Miss Virginia Carteret. There would be more dinners and social diversions: other procrastinations like this of neglecting to look after the consign ment of steel—which, by the by. was not yet to be seen or even definitely heard from: and in the end. defeat. All of which Adams, substituting friendly frankness for the disciplinary traditions of the service, set forth in good Bostonian English for the benefit and behoof of his chief, and was an swered according to his deserts with scoffings and deriding;;. "I wasn't horn yesterday. Morty, and I'm net so desperately asinine as you seem to think.” was the besotted one's summing up. "1 know the Rajah doesn't split hairs in a busi ness fight, hut he is hardly unscrupu lous enough to use Miss Carteret as a cat's-paw.” But Adams would not be scoffed aside. “You’re off in your estimate of Mr. Darrah, Jack, 'way off. I know the HE OPENED THE DOOR FOR HER. you on a pedestal these last two days. Miss Carteret. You know well enough what is involved—honor, integrity, good faith, everything a man values, or should value. I was only jegting when I spoke of the day-pay; that is nothing. I can't believe you would ask such a sacrifice of me—of any man.” The brown eyes met his fairly, and it was not Mr. Somerville Darrah’s confederate who said: '‘Indeed. I do not ask it, Mr. Winton. I see now how impossible it would be for yon to—” she stopped short, and leaving the sentence in the air. began again. “But it is only fair that you should have your warning, and I’m going to give it* to you. My uncle will leave no stone unturned to defeat you.” He was ? ill looking into her eyes, and so had courage to say what came uppermost. “1 don't care. I shall fight him as hard as I can. but I shall always be his debtor for this evening. Do you understand?” She broke the eye-hold and turned away quickly. “You must not come again," she said. “But I shall—as often a3 I may. | And as to the railway tussle, Mr. Darrah may take it out of me as he pleases from sunrise to sunset, if he will only invite me here to dinnei now and then.” In a flash her mood changed and she laughed lightly. "Who would think if of you, Mr. Winton! Of all men I should have said you were the last to care so much for the social diversions. Shall we go in?” tradition—that a southern gentleman is all chivalry when it comes to a matter touching his womankind, and I don't controvert it as a general proposition. But the Rajah has been a fighting western railroad magnate so long that his accent is about the only southern asset he has retained. If I’m any good at guessing, he will stick at nothing to gain his end.” Winton admitted the impeachment without prejudice to his own point of view. “Perhaps you are right. But fore warned is forearmed. And Miss Vir ginia is not going to lend herself to any such nefarious scheme.” “Not consciously, perhaps; but you don’t know her yet. If she saw a good chance to take the conceit out of you, she'd improve it—without think ing overmuch of the possible conse quences to the Utah company.” “Pshaw!” said Vinton. "That IS another of your literary inferences I’ve met her only twice, yet I ven ture to say I know her better than you do. If she cared anything for me i —which she doesn't—” “Oh, go to sleep!” said Adams, who I was not minded to argue further with ja man besotted; and so the matter went by default for the time. It was very deftly done, and even | Adams, the clear-eyed, could not help admiring the Rajah's skillful finesse. Of formal dinner-givings there might easily have been an end, since the construction camp had nothing to offer in return. But. the formalities were studiously ignored, and the two young men were put upon a footing of intimacy and encouraged to come and go as they pleased. (TO BE CONTINUED.) TOO MUCH FOR OSLER When the Maharajah Gaekwar of - The computation fsiemed to amuse Baroda visited the congressional li- the prince. “And what would your brarv in Washington he was naturally Dr. Osier say to that?” he inquired.— greatly interested in that vast and N. Y. Tribune, excellent collection of books. _ ._ 77 7-- . “How long.” he asked Herbert Put- _ Tribu\es * D*P*rt«L „ nam. “would It take a man to read all t.Corn and bread arfe 8tilL°ffered by these books?” Mr. Putnam smilingly b* P£ , ^ “ replied that no one could ever begin tbe dear depa*ed °f tbeir deatb « to read all. the books in the library, A traveler m Spain de some2,000.000 in number. Then he made s"ibes how’ at San :sebastlan- he ha'’ a rough calculation. He told the ma- s°me . ,,oor fisherman’s 'zs.'zsrrsrzs:«suns tisv« no man. in the course of the average . ,, , , . lifetime of 70 years, could read more l™11' loares of bread and ,c°rn’ and than 8.000 books. Therefo-.-e, figuring kn£e “lf upon 1116 t’omb of her *°* on 2,000,000 in the library at congress, 068 or8, _ a man would have to have 250 life- ■ a homing pigeon which was sent to times of 70 years each to get through* the Isle of Man two years and four with all of the books, and that would months ago returned to its borne cote mean 17,500 years. tn Blackburn, England, recently. HEAD OF U. S. ARMY QUITS. -IEUT. GEN. CORBIN GOES ON THE RETIRED LIST. Has Been in Active Service for 44 Years—Will Be Succeeded by Gen. MacArthur, Another Vet eran 'of Two Wars. Washington.—Lieut. Gen. Henry C. Corbin. U. S. A., chief of staff and lately in charge of the northern divis ion of the army, with headquarters in St. Louis, has been placed on the re tired list. Gen. Arthur MacArthur will succeed him as lieutenant general and chief of staff and Gen. A. W. Greely will succeed him in command in the western city. Gen. Corbin succeeded Gen. Bates as lieutenant general of the army in April last. He has been in active ser vice since the year 1862, when he en tered the volunteer army as second lieutenant of the Eighty-third Ohio infan try. During the civil war the Ohio sol dier rose to the rank of brevet briga dier general of volunteers. When the forces were recalled from the field Gen. Corbin was appointed to the reg ular service as a second lieutenant of the Seventeenth infantry. In 1880 he was transferred to the adjutant gen eral's department, and he remained at tached to that branch of the service, in name at least, until he became a lieutenant general. For several years Gen. Corbin was stationed in Chicago. He was a lieu tenant colonel and assistant adjutant general of the then division of the Missouri, when Gen. Miles command ed, with headquarters in Chicago. The last Sioux war broke out in December, 1S90, and Col. Corbin ac companied Gen. Miles to South Dako ta, where headquarters were estab lished in the field. At this time ' Miles and Corbin apparently were good friends, but afterward, when the former was promoted to the command of the army and the latter was made adjutant general, they clashed, and their differences at the Spanish war time were the subject of public com ment. Lieut. Gen. Corbin was the first of ficer of that rank since the general staff was formed who did not take the position of its chief. He preferred to take command elsewhere than in Washington, and he was assigned to the northern division of the army, with headquarters in St. Louis. The general married a few years ago for the second time. He has built a handsome residence in Washington and will reside in this city in the fu ture. By direction of the president com missions have been prepared for Gen. MacArthur to be lieutenant general. Brig. Gen. Jesse M. Lee to be major general asd CapL John J. Pershing to be brigadier general. These promo tions are made to fill vacancies inci dent to the retirement of Corbin. Gen. J. Franklin Bell, who is the senior brigadier general, waived the promotion to the higher grade in ordei to give Gen. Lee an opportunity tc reach it before he retired. Gen. Lee will retire next January and there would have been no vacancy in the grade of major general before that date had Gen. Beil been appointed. ! Gen. MacArthur is now commanding the division of the Pacific and will ! continue in that position. ' Gen. Lee is now in command of the department of the Visayas. His pro motion makes three major generals in the Philippines. It is expected that ! 1_I--._I GEN. HENRY C. CORBIN. (Chief of Staff of Army Who Has Been Placed on Retired List.) he will be given a command in the ! United States. Gen. Pershing is now | the military attache at the American embassy in Japan and it is expected that he will be given another assign ment. He is a son-in-law of Senator Warren of Wyoming. Gen. MacArthur is a veteran of two I wars, having won distinction in the civil war and in the Philippines. He } was born in Massachusetts, was taken ! by his parents to Milwaukee in his in fancy. and there attended the public schools. At the age of 17 he was made first lieutenant in the Twenty fourth Wisconsin, and* when the civil war ended he was brevet colonel. For l^eroic actions he won promotion at | various times, and for bravery at Mis i sionary Ridge received a congression al medal. Entering the regular army, he-was made brigadier general of vol unteers in 1898 and speedily was pro moted to be major general. From 1898 until 1901 he commanded in the Phil ippines, and later was at the head of the department of the lakes, subse quently commanding the division of the Pacific. He will be retired under the age limitation statute June 2, 1909. WEST POINT CADET A HERO. Endures Two Months of Remarkable Suffering to Return to Academy. West Point.—Cadet J. Walter Wilde, of Hazleton, has returned to West Point, which he never expected to en J. WALTER WILDE. (West Point Cadet Who Went Through Tortures to Be a Soldier.) ter again. He returns with the repu tation of a hero, for he has proved that he has been able to bear the most excruciating suffering with fortitude, and all for love of the service of Uncle Sam. Cadet Wilde was appointed in the spring of 1905 by President Roosevelt. Last fall while at home on a visit his horse fell, relied on him and broke his leg. After it was set and healed it had shrunk several inches. The de formity prevented his reentering to the academy. Broken hearted, he went to see emi nent physicians. They told him there was only one way in which the leg could be restored to the normal length, and they did not believe it possible any man could stand the pain of the operation. It would la3t for weeks and weeks. Wilde declared he would stand any thing in order to get back to West Point, so last March he went to the Polyclinic hospital in Philadelphia. Dr. John B. Roberts rebroke the leg. put it in a plaster-of-paris cast, hoist ed at right angles with the boy's re cumbent body, and to it by means of pulleys was fastened 300 pounds. Wilde's body was strapped to the bed so that the weight would not lift him up. In that position, unable to move, with the weight dragging constantly at every muscle and tendon in his leg, he lay for two months. The pain was intense and constant; for days at first he could not sleep. Later he managed to obtain some restless naps. But he bore his sufferings with great fortitude and never whimpered. He was strong in the faith that the operation would be successful and that he would be able to return to West Point. His faith was justified. At the end of two months the leg was found to have been stretched to its normal length. Then his recovery was rapid and now there is in his walk no evi dence that he was ever injured. Breaking the Compact. Miffkins (to employer)—No, sir, I don't think there's anything unreason able in my asking for an increase of my salary. You may remember you promised me a rise when I had been with you a year. Employer—I know I did. but, hang it all, didn't I make it conditional upon your giving me every satisfaction? Miffkins—And in what way, sir. haven't I given you satisfaction? Employer (furiously)—Satisfaction. ===== — indeed! l?you call bothering me for more wages giving me every satisfac tion, eh? Belief. “You should cultivate a more cheer ful disposition.” said Mr. Cheerup. "Be lieve in the honesty of human na ! ture.” “Yes,” answered the man with the acid countenance; "most everybody j does till he has indorsed notes for a ! few people."—Washington Star. FATHER BIRD GIVES HELP. Cedar Birds Nest So Late Both Birds Have to Sit on the Eggs. In the Cat?-;I1 mountains a pair of Cedar waxwings were found sitting as late as the fifth of September. I had seen one of the pair on the nest during the daytime in the latter part of August, and thought it must be very cold to hatch eggs. The weather was then between freezing and temperate in early morning. In September it seemed impossible that any bird could sit on eggs in a nest in an exposed place. Going to the nest one evening, I found both of the waxwings upon it. The nest was plainly in view in a low cedar tree and, seeing them from every side, I made sure that both birds were actually inside the hollow of the nesL I found that the birds thus sat to gether from late afternoon, when it be gan to grow colder, until early the fol lowing morning, when it began to grow warmer, and sometimes during the middle of extra cold days. On September 4 only one wax wing was on the nest at a quarter to six p. m. About five minutes later the other came to a cedar near by; he soon flew to the nes{ and, after much turning about on top of it, finally settled down on the back of the other bird or at any rate inside the nest. The next day the heads of two young waxwings showed over the edge of the nest. They seemed three or four days old, and one of their parents was brooding them.—SL Nicholas. Bee's Care of Its Young. A species of bee, called the “clo thier,” covers its nest of eggs with a cloth made from the woody fiber of plants, and thus preserves its young from sudden changes of temperature. Uncle Allen. “Many a man," said Uncle Allen Sparks, “dates all of his reverses from the evening when his best girl turned him down.” Result of Worry. A man’s hair, as a rule, turn.** gray five years sooner than a woman's. The Etiquette of the English Royal Household Glimpse of the Manner of Life of the Functionaries of the Kins and Queen The outside world knows very little of the inner life, of the ordering and working of the vast machinery of the English royal household, which must indeed go with ciocklike precision to insure that absence of confusion which is absolutely imperative. There are several hundred persons on the staff, each one of whom has a clearly defined duty, from which he seldom deviates, for court etiquette, taken on the whole, is precise and formal, and many observances which prevailed in previous generations still hold good, the same things, in fact, being done in the same way. There are several departments ap pertaining to their majesties' house holds, the head of each one being re sponsible to the monarchs for the due performance of duty by every indi vidual under his or her authority, and there are offices which are depart ments in themselves. Needless to say, each responsible person must pos sess the highest qualifications for his Then there is the master of the horse, and it is interesting to note that he takes rank really as the third great officer of the court, and has en tire superintendence of the stables. The office of “mistress" is always held by a duchess, and is vacant each time a minister retires. The duties are rendered chiefly on state occa sions, when the mistress rides imme diately in front of her majesty, walk-* ing in close attendance in any pro cession. She also stands or sits near the queen at royal courts, state con certs and balls: while for the last named she is often called upon to take part in the royal set of the open ing quadrille. The mistress also looks over, passes, and signs the bills for her majesty's wardrobe, and also signs ail warrants issued for this de partment. Of course there are a number of of ficials of the royal households whose offices are almost sinecures, such as the state pages, gentlemen ushers. Singing and Playing to Her Majesty, the Queen. post, and an abundance cf tact in his dealing with all persons with whom he comes in contact. The lord chamberlain, as is known by many, is a prominent figure at all state ceremonies, and at their majes ties’ court he it is who makes the actual presentations—that is, reads out the names of the presentees to the king1. But there are many other duties connected with his lordship that the public knows nothing about; for instance, he and his department have the absolute charge of all the furniture and fittings of each palace. Needless to say, this is a very onerous charge and a most accurate system of detail is requisite. Every article within the palaces is entered in a huge volume, one of a series styled "inventories” — at Windsor Castle alone there are 50 such—in the pages of which appear particulars of origin, description, and artistic value, to gether with date of acquisition. Noth ing whatever which comes under the category of furniture or fittings is re ceived in or sent out of the royal res idences without the signature of the lord chamberlain’s deputy. The lord chamberlain also has complete control of all officials coming under the title “above stairs,” this including the chaplains and physicians, the singers and musicians as well as a clerical staff. The lorr chamberlain holds a permanent post, not going out with his party as do certain others—such, for instance, as the lord steward. The master cf ceremonies, another great official, really comes very little upon the scene, except at state func tions; but it is his special province to introduce to his majesty visiting or newly appointed ambassadors and other persons of great note. Each monarch has a private sec retary, whose duty it is to open all correspondence and deal with it, the only exception being such as have the hall-mark of relationship or the “cousinship” of friendly monarchs. pages-of-honor, etc.; these only ap pear at court ceremonies during the season, or at the opening of parlia ment. But there are numbers of oth ers who take their turns in very act ive duties, these being lords-in-waiting, grooms-in-waiting, esquerries. maids of-honor, and women of the bed chamber. The lords-in-waiting and the esquerries are in close attend ance on the king, the esquerries also riding on each side of his majesty's carriage in state processions. These gentlemen may be called upon to help receive distinguished guests at the castle or palace, or receive alone those of lesser standing, and in many in stances conduct guests to assigned apartments. A lord-in-waiting would receive a bishop or a nobleman of high degree, while commoners would be received by an equerry. And the degree of rank regulates whether a guest should be met at the station, the palace entrance, or merely re ceived in a saloon. The same rule applies to her ma jesty's household, save that Hon. Charlotte Kncillys, woman of the bed I chamber, who is always in attend ance on the queen, does the major part of the reception of her majesty’s lady visitors. Miss Knollys also does much of the queen’s correspondence, at any rate that of a personal nature’ | while some of the other is done by the maids-of-honor. who also wait' ! upon the queen. These young ladies : have to undergo very special training5 to fit them for their posts. They must be fluent linguists, accomplished mu sicians (a part of their duty being to sing ani play to her majesty), good elocutionists <a3 they are often re quested to read aloud), expert horse women. and clever drivers, and must have a knowledge of a variety of out door and indoor accomplishments and games. They are also occasionally deputed to pay visits which the queen cannot pay in person. MARY SPENCER WARREN. lOOOOOCOOOOOCOOOOOOOOOOOOOa* OMITS HIS MAIDEN SPEECH. New Member of the Commons Taught a Lesson by Constituents. Few people have any idea how close is the watch kept ty earnest constitu ents upon the parliamentary perform ances of their representatives. About three months after the house met this year a new member, a friend of mine, went down to his constituency. He had not made his maiden speech at the time, but he attached little im portance to that, thinking that prob ably he was more conscious of the fact than was anyone else. He was soonwmdeceived. for the porter who took ®is bag at the station remarked directly the honorable gentleman stepped from the train: “Haven’t had the pleasure of read ing your maiden speech yet, sir—we’re looking out for it.’’ My friend had to make a polite and pleasant answer, for the porter was a most energetic electioneerer. Then nearly everyone he met began with the accusing formula: “Haven't had —r-^nrimrirnrirnrmi^roiMju the pleasure—” until he was nearly mad' The climax was reached when he asked a policeman the way to some place, and the constable hating in most official manner replied: “First to the right and second to the left,** changed his tone and looking severely at the poor man began: "Haven’t had the pleasure—” And at this my friend fled. He told met afterward that he be lieved the feliow was fumbling for the handcuffs. The result was that the honorable gentleman came back to the house determined to jump up all day and all night whenever a speech was finished, whatever the subject was, until he had said something or other. His chance came at last when he was quite exhausted and when he had real ly nothing to say. So he said noth ing at considerable length—and now he is quite a hero in his constituency —M. A. P. -v A fine specimen of a leopard, which killed and partly ate 21 sheep in one night, has been trapped on the coast of Mozambique.