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About The Loup City northwestern. (Loup City, Neb.) 189?-1917 | View Entire Issue (March 16, 1911)
■ -AI.THY American widows b*tr come hi recent years to to play a moat important part la several important divisions of the worlds afl-ur* It is not. eaber. merely here in the t sited S-tcw that these mon eyed women are maiunt; their itSueme feh »>n the con trary. their ibImet has pro *«* fully as potent in many . :nks abroad to much so. indeed, that the Rood people me Hanipr hate been compelled to sit up and take an ee of r r4 American widow * a* a claw* • eti wormy to rank with any subdivision of •uaif abroad (not ere*. eicepttn* '.be nobil h >i. If the rompartnoa he made on the basts / c .»tu or r s!• m-ry <-r ;.*elr> or .-in* of the at tr standards by which the feminine world ■StS each store Here m the I'sitM S'ates it would be diffi -w*r la n-s sphere tn which (be wealthy Widows have not been -irrtinr tretnendous ttttrtr* <4 late years tCwoa ui politics they have sot matted upon the victory of the euf fn«* erase to enable them to take a hand Kur the prewets'. to be sure, their influence is Indirect. Is It ts none the leas inn hie. as mi ■. ess the power of the salow maintained by that brilliant woman. Mrs Hitt, widow of the late chairman of the ton ian rela'ion* rommtt t. e 'if the houic of nisisttallve* and the he kina w Me* ¥< ualor lleveridtce at Indiana has had tbcowcfc the tact that bis wife is the S.I -omsi (4 Mrs Marsh-!! Pield. widow of thr ttiksio Drr.inet • jS.► :tflf there is no ouesuon as to llie tre ■asdic* parr -4 the American widow To 11 _ liar :* iw* LaS mly to slop to reflect how V |.»lHr world is dominated by the hospital! - of smek weB»odo widows as Mrs 1. 7. las'er widow of the ChiraSO r*»sti oUWooktre and mother of the late Lady t'wrzon - tucretne of India. Mrs • grpM I\!!kib. widow uf u - car U afrr. Mrs Tint as r Walsh, widow of the kWk Usr.~ Mrs Mary | the Penney Svnair <on! nui ou magnate, and Mr* M A Hants* * -jw» aI the late Catted n'aien naitar front Ohio Mr* Huuat life >uwe tip. death of her iwihawa. ae naj here digress to . \plain, has illusuaied Ixra great is the latitude of life jym to the modern wealthy widow in con uw> to (hr dR«u>nh<d eai*ten'-e of the av erage widow of a prominent official of a cen •ary ago. who. mpoa the death of her husband, waw wont to retire to to* planra'lon or country •eat sad live in the u*nu *• quietude If not In sctwwJ •*.- iu»*t« Af’er the death of her bus head Mr* lisaaa Bud for a time In a fash -•bahlc hotel ta Washington Then she built n lance haune and occupied it for a time, later d.sponuag of tt Us a prow. Inert’ army officer Nest she bad a sp*-*-t*l apart men' arranged to her order In one of the largest of the new bo •els la Mew fork, ein providing a special kitchen foe "Maggie her jewel" of a cook. Thea dewmag a change, she hit upon the idea af her present program of life, which calls for in l.urope each spring a winter residence in Wuh .e has two apartments of 14 In • fnlilmMi apartment house *m It* nans t*room » partner/ might a pretty preteatiuas rwsddenttal establish for a lone woman to maintain, hut it is ly n clrrym'tt 'r to the enc.rn.ons four mansion erected at the national capital -^€'CAVJJ ISOJST 'S'JTXa&MeG by Mrs. Staler, another wealthy widow, who is the sole occupant of this palace save for the 1* servants who minister to her needs. Wealthy widows, it may be added, have not shirked the responsibilities of house building Indeed, on the contrary, it seems to be one of their fads Mrs. Leiter, in addition to her town house's, has lately been building a sum mer 'cottage” costing hundreds of thousands of dollars on the North Shore of Massachu setts near the summer home of President Taft. Mrs. Hay. widow of the laie secretary of state, has built a magnificent mansion in Cleve land: Mrs Pullman and Mrs. Marshall Field ha.o ordered new homes from plans which they had a di^nd in making: Mrs. Hitt has Kl”J n *3cca&tvk> sr? seeV'T* ^ °^^aAr~ built a splendid home since the death of her husband and the wealthy Mrs. Wyeth of Phila delphia had her nephew-architect carry out her ideas of a distinctive home. In point of achievement, however, unques tionably the greatest of all the house build ers in the coterie of wealthy widows is Mrs. Albert Clifford Barney, who inherited one fortune from her father, a Cincinnati pio neer. and married another. Mrs. Barney is of a most artistic temperament and is indeed an artist of no mean ability in both oils and water colors. She spends much time in Paris, where she and two of her daughters, who de vote themselves respectively to painting and sculpture, are much in their element When she is in this country Mrs. Barney divides her time and her boundless energy between the staging of Greek plays and other amateur the atricals of a most ambitious character and the designing and building of houses for love of it. These unique habitations that she creates Mrs. Barney sells or rents, and be it said to her credit that she is a clever enough business woman to make her art profitable in dollars and cents as well as in personal satisfaction In the field of philanthropy America^ wid ows have of late years accomplished so much good as to make these bereaved ones as a class the most respected and most admired contingent of American multintillionairedom. The generosity of Mrs. Phoebe Hearst in good works has insured her a place for all time in our real hall of fame and Mrs. Harriman's gift of a splendid park to the state of N’ew York bids fair to be but the first of a series of no table benefactions. Mrs. Russell Sage is an other woman who in a comparatively brief widowhood has helped the needy in many ways, and the late Mrs. Gardner Hubbard, widow of the man who reaped the greatest financial rewards from the invention of the telephone, was lavish during her lifetime In good works. There is one group of widows in the Tnit ed States in the members of which—for all that they are roost of them living very qui etlv—the public is bound to take a keen inter est. This group is made up of the widows of former high officials of the cation, including the widows of our military and naval heroes Conspicuous among the number are the two sure iviug widows of presidents. Mrs Mary Lord Harrison and Mrs. Grover Cleveland. Mrs. Cleveland spends most of her time in the family home at Princeton or at her farm in New Hampshire, though she has of late de voted no little time to residence In Switzer land, where her children are being educated. Mrs. Harrison, likewise, spends much time abroad, though she maintains a home in Indi anapolis and indulges in occasional lengthy vacations in a log tAiuse in the Adirondacks. Of the widows of the nation's warriors probably the public hears most frequently of Mrs. Phil Sheridan, widow of the famous cav alry leader, although Mrs. Logan and Mrs. Pickett, the latter the widow of the Confeder ate chieftain who led the desperate charge at Gettysburg, have been more or less in the public eye owing to their literary work and their careers on the lecture platform Mrs. Sheridan, alike to both these other widows, resides at the national capital and an anecdote is told of Mrs. Sheridan to the effect that she silenced some gossip which speculated as to her remarriage by the remark, "I would rather be the widow of Phil Sheridan than the wife of any man alive." And speaking of the remarriage of widows, It may be added that one of the circumstances that renders these widowed women of wealth interesting to many people is the possibility of remarijage—an ever-present Incentive to speculation, even though the object of suck, public curiosity may have not the slightest intention of again entering the bonds of mat rimony. And that this solicitude is by no means restricted to disinterested observers or confined to the Cnited States is eloquently at tested b> the attentions which eligible mem bers of the nobility of Europe have showered upon Mrs. Pottei Palmer. Mrs. “Jack" Gardi ner. Mrs. Marshall Field and—most courted of all— Mrs. Nonnie Worthington Stewart Leeds, the dazzhngly wealthy as well as dazzllngly beautiful young widow of a multimillionaire who garnered the golden harvest of the tin plate industry and sundry railroads. Almost all the wealthy American widow* seem to have a penchant for spending more or less of their time in Europe and there are oth ers who live there continuously, returning but seldom to their native land, and then only for visits. In this class are the widows of for eign diplomats w ho receive pensions from the I governments seived by their late husbands. A conspicuous example is afforded by Baroness Sternburg—the former Miss Langham. a Ken tucky beauty, who as the result of a genuine romance that began as a case of love at first sight on a transatlantic liner, married Baron Speck von Sternburg. a very capable German diplomat, who lost his life as the result of dis ease contracted while serving his government in India. In the field of art many American widows, such as Mrs. St. Gaudens. are factors, if not by virtue of their own talents at least as cus todians of the masterpieces left by their de ceased husbands, and the same is true in the spheres of literature and public life, where the collection of the papers of an eminent man or the publication of his memoirs has frequently devolved upon the widow. In the financial world wealthy widows, by sheer force of their monetary possessions, wield an influence rec ognized by all men of affairs. The most no table example, of course, is that afforded by Mrs. Hetty Green, who controls one of the wealthiest and most powerful of the New York banks. CURRENT WRECKS A BRIDGE Taonty *ev«a Sty T rr-bora Are Cut ThCBV^I I* 0»V« Day by Aid of Etactricity Ua* <4 IM Mat laittMtf van to • fear a ahctrtdai «aa nrr pat vaa .n tfea andoai *4 a bodge om tb* W» IWi UMcr bad b-et. parriiiMi] by •»>*■ caaMty aothorltlei. orfeo intended •a riytare H fey a a*eel structure erect ed «a (fee aid liters anc aim'meat* TV oaraer agreed to rrtauie the feradgr la JS daya TV cfeMf diSmtiy lay *u the abort titna agreed upon lor the removal «4 •fee bodge Hntnl amkm to ahoM *V Matter *m Mrim.it’ed declared •bat It aaril he iMpoaoifele * title So daya to poll doara the old bridge aitfe tajMT <o the parrs The drartaif Migfel be Moan up ahl dynaarite. but the rapknion mould also dratroy the plera Were It fired (he heat aaaU craefc and injure i be Masonry of (fee bridge The 3C dajra eaptrod. and an niMuM <4 one net aaa granted. Tfee ooner aaa at kla alts' end, a fere fee chanced upon an eloctrictaa a ho proposed, hot to feioo up tbc ! — T* brulge. but lo burn It apart His pro posal was gladly accepted Kacb span of the bridge was cotn j i-o -d of rtine chords of three timbers ee.-h The 27 sills were to be cut simultaneously, so that the span would drop between the piers Into the river Tl;e cutting was to be accomplished by burning through the wood with loops of iron resistance made red hot h > t> •• p.. ssage of the electric current. Klft y-four resistance loons were heated to wreck each span, and the spank vere wrecked one at a time. Sutf.r.enl current was used to heat the iron wires cherry red. The result was exactly the same with every span. Be tween the turning on of the current and the fall of the span an hour and 40 minutes elapsed. Then the mass of timbers fell into the water well in side the piers, so that they were unin jured. The cut made by the hot wire was sharp and clean, and the wood was not charred more' than an iqeh from the place of fracture. The current was first turned on at about five o'clock in the morning, and at two in the afternoon the last span | crashed down to the river, bed.— [ Scientific American. A BALL FOR BABY •i * love !* smcnca into a girt it goes into the one that celebrates b*by’fc first birthday. One of the pret presents, which wiil give the i. Mc one great Joy. in a large edition of those balls which the happy mother, of today delighted to fashion as children with two circles of card board perforated in the center. Instead of making the circles an :n< h or two In diameter, make them fall sis inches in sire, and use pink and white or pale blue and white wool i of a very fleecy type. Tie the wool through the perforation in the rara boarti and then proceed to fill up the hole by drawing the wool through and through over the cardboard until no | more will pass. Cut it and tie it be tween the two circles and remove : these by tearing them away. The ball Should be sewn on to nar row satin ribbon, blue or pink, as the ; case may be, and to this ribbon ' Should be attached a quantity of little ! gold or silver bells, which will jingle merrily when the ball Is swung to and 1 fro by the ribbons. RENEWS ANTIQUE WASHSTAND 1 Long Islander Sells Piece of Furniture for Fifty Cents and Buys It Back for $20. An olderlv Long Islander onoe at- j tended an auction of old furniture, j Arooug the articles for which bids j were asked was a heavy marble- , topped washstand. The Long Island er bid ten cents for it. and as he was (he only one who spoke the wash stand was knocked down to him— rather to his disrnav. as he had to have it conveyed to his distant home. For several years this ten-cent antique ; was an occupant of the bam. its n-.ar- ! ble top being removed and the interior ; of the stand serving as a receptacle for cans of paint. One day a clerk from a furniture store in the neighborhood called at the Long Islander's and accidentally caught sight of the unappreciated washstand. He made some inquiries concerning it. and eventually pur chased it for 50 cents. The clerk took his purchase to the store, gave it a thorough renovating and it became a handsome piece of hardwood furni ture, the marble top adding the fin ishing touch. Not long after this transformation the elderly Long Islander and his wife visited the fur niture store, and when the wife saw chat beautifully polisued antique washstand she fell in love wiih it. for it just filled her ideal. Her husband 6eemed to have a suspicion of the truth, and endeavored to distract her attention. But the affair ended by the woman purchasing the stand for $20. and it is now one of her most highly prized possessions. Beli Must Be Tuned. The general impression is that the tone of a bell is largely a matter of accident, but this is not so. A bell must be tuned the same as a piano or any other musical instrument. Ev ery beli has five sounds, which must blend together in perfect harmony, and this is accoinmplished by shaT ing down certain parts until the de sired harmony is secured. In the event of shaving too deep the bell is not injured, but the tuning operation is prolonged, as other parts must be operated on and cut away to a corre sponding degree. * Just the Thing. Klgg—What are yon having carved on the phoiographer's tombstone? F'Ogg—Taken from life. — Boston Transcript. TALL OF TWO POOR NEPHEWS (jc# Triad to P un the Rich Old Uncle- Whe Titan Made a Mete Will. nan ware ou a rtcfc old undo who had taw fwwr nardtrao uncle with the great affection he bore ! him by some tangible means. So he ! drew out bis savings and purchased for bis rich old uncle a magnificent ; gold watch, and had it neatly en ' graved. To it he attached a gorgeous chain, put the whole affair in a lav ishly decorated box and sent It to his rich old uncle with his best wishes. The second poor nephew figured that any extreme financial outlay would convince his rich old uncle that be was trying to Jolly him a bit too much, so he invested s nickel in s neat but tasty Christmas card, which he mailed to the rich old uncle So "the rich old uncle received the two remembrances and said of the first nephew: “Humph! A man who will spend all he has for a gold watch to give to a man who already has all the watches he ever will need hasn't got enough judgment to be trusted with money. I will leave him my blessing and a few words of good advice.” When he looked at the card he nod ded his head approvingly and said: • . “There's a man after my own heart He knew 1 would not care for an ex pensive gift and he knew that I would value his good wishes, so he very wisely sent them to me in this inex pensive manner. He shows a marked economical trait and I am sure he will get along in the world without any aid from me.” So he made a new will and left all his money to found an institution for the study of prehistoric manifesta tions of microblc diseases in fossilised animalculae. I' I * His Witness. Sis-year-old David had b«en told not to play in the oiled road. Coming into the house with suspiciously black bands, he was reprimanded by his mother. "Vou've been playing in the road,” she said. "No, mother, I haven’t. That's pitch from the tree." “Don't tell me a story. David. I know It's oil from the road.” "Well, God know8 It’s pitch,” said David, "for he saw me climb the ire*.” Corralling a Quarter Section ————— .*..*. By M. J. PHILLIPS (Copyright, 19U, by Associated Literary Press.) Arthur Brant was conscious of an I undercurrent of hostility in the sod cabin of the Pentons. The mental at i mosphere was as crisp as the breath : less cold of the February night—a cold which clutched the Dakota prairies In ! iron fingers. Brant was a shy young man where women were concerned, and though he felt acutely that for some reason Hilda Penton. her parents and her ten-year-old brother had turned against him. he could not bring himself to ask t why. or to worm the reason out of them by indirection. They had moved onto the quarter | section adjoining his own fine farm a few weeks before. He had not learned ; to know them well, though he had formed the habit of dropping fn on them during the evening. But now he was unwelcome. Jim Penton. usually affable and garrulous, smoked tonight in grave silence. He kept his gaze on the cracked stove, which w-as glowing red with its efforts to beat back the searching cold. Mrs Penton knitted without looking up. and little Jim. who "usually hung adoringly about Brant's knees, was huddled in a corner, though he peered stealthily at his friend as often as he Jared As fpr Hilda herself, beyond the merest monosyllabic replies to Brant's efforts to make conversation, she was i ominously quiet. When her work was completed and she sat down opposite him. her blue eyes were sparkling, and her voice re- ; minded Brant of the crackle of frosty 1 snow under foot. "I understand, Mr. Brant, that you i were down at the county seat Friday | looking up the title of our quarter sec tion.” Yes.” replied Brant; “that's one reason I came over. The land's been advertised for unpaid taxes. It's to be sold Tuesday.” “And you're going to buy It in?” i The contemptuous tone cut like a iash. "'No,'" replied Brant.’simply. “Well, we can't redeem it. We had barely enough to get It. And that mis erable Sim Brockway cheated us. He "It Was a Bad Day Even for an Enemy to Be Out." i said the title was all right Now we're : to have another sample of Dakota friendship!” Anger swept away Brant's 6hyness. He rose. "You mean I’d try to get your property on tax-title?" ' “We were told that's how you came by your last two quarter sections.” “Whoever told you that lied," said Brant, quietly. The owners hadn't paid taxes. I'll admit. But I gave fair value for every acre. Just the same." He knew who told the falsehood_ Peter Snyder, fat-faced, shifty-eyed Pete, who had elected himself first friend to shiftless Jim Penton and pretty, blue-eyed Hilda. And Peter ; was notorious as a tax-title shark. He was getting rich by taking advantage of the land-poor. "Our hundred and sixty would com | plete your section.” drawled old Jim; ; "I don't wonder you want it." Brant turned on him ”1 don't want your land.” he said. “But if you don’t raise a hundred and forty dollars by Tuesday some one'll get it; that's : sure.” He strode out and closed the door behind him. Perhaps his musings would have been less bitter had he ! known that Hilda had cried silently for an hour after going to bed—and her tears were not altogether tor tne com ing loss of the farm. Tuesday dawned cloudy, cold; a storm was in store. As Hilda looked out on the broad plain of undulating white, treeless and stark, sudden hot resentment welled up within her. For there, muffled to his eyes In a fur coat behind a swiftly jogging horse, was Arthur Brant. He was headed for the county seat, 22 miles away. She had nourished a secret hope that Peter Snyder lied; that Brant would not seize their land. But Peter, whom she distrusted despite his plaus ible tongue, had told the truth. Brant cared more for their land than for their—for her—regard. Her lips trem bled pitifully as she turned from the window. The storm came apace. There was a wind that flew with the speed of a bul let. A score of times during the day an unconfessed anxiety drew the girl to the window. There, melting a hole in the frost with her breath, she peered into the storm. It was a bad day even for an enemy to be out. At eight o'clock there came a muf fled knock. Hilda hurried to the door and threw it open, to recoil in amaze ment. for the mild, patient head of a horse projected into the cabin. it was Brant's horse. With an exclamation she waded through the snow to the cutter. There was a huddled, fur-clad heap in the bottom of the vehicle. As her cry brought the others out bareheaded into the storm, a shape detached itself from the rushing white gioom—Frank Oleson. Brant's hired man. The Swede hail been searching afoot, for his master. "He bane freezing!" he cried. an<! fell upon Brant like a bear, cuffing, shaking and worrying him back from the verge of the dreaded sleep which has no waking. Brant roused reluctantly and looked about him, at the faithful Oleson, at the Pentons, scarcely less concerned at the cabin beyond, warm and light and cozy. His face changed as at an unpleasant memory. "Take me home, Frank," he said, in a tone that brooked no disobe dience. And for the second time within a week Hilda Penton cried herself to sleep. The last vestige of hope was gone. He had bid in their land. That is why he would not trespass on their hospitality. It was three days before little Jim could go to the postofflee, two miles away. He came hack with a letter— an official looking article from the county seat, and a budget of news that kept him Jumping up and down in excitement. The envelope was addressed to her father, but Hilda tore it open, caught the sense at a glance, and dropped weakly into k chair. “Mother—father!" she gasped; “It's all right. We won't lose our farm. Mr. Brant has loaned us the money.” Mr. and Mrs. Penton. graying head; bent together, laboriously gathered that James Penton, by his agent, Ar thur Brant, had paid the sum of $142.79. being the full amount due for back taxes and ^penalties on the southeast one-quarter of section— Oh, it was all there, to the last letter and figure of the description! Meanwhile, little Jim, by the ex pedlent of whooping at regular in tervals. at last attracted the family's attention. “Listen to me. listen to me!” hs yelled. “Lemme tell you about the fight over to Carlin Tuesday, Bill Samuelson. he saw it.” “Hey?" said his father, raising hii eyes at last from the magic paper “A fight—who?” “Arthur Brand and Peter Snyder." chattered little Jim. "That mean old Pete was there to get our land, and he had a check all made out. Bui Mr. Brant came in and said he was your agent, pa, an’ had the monej ready. An' Pete called him a liar and Mr. Brant told him he was s tax-title shark, so Pete struck al him. “And then they fought and knocked over chairs, an' the clerk climbed up onto the desk, and Mr. Brant blacked Pete's* eyes and bloodied his nose An'— Little Jim stopped, the breath squeered out of his body. For his sis ter, her eyes shining like twin stars, was hugging him to her breast and laughing and crying at the same time. “Jtm.“ she said, “you go and tell Arthur to come over here. I—we_we want to thank him, and beg his par don.” “ 'Tain't ne'ssary,” replied Jim. wriggling free. “I asked him myself. An’ he said he'd come." What Folksongs Are One ot the finest pleasures In the world is derived from singing. Even savages make an effort to sing by ut i tering weird notes as they beat on I queer drums and dance around their j war fires. In ancient times before i there were any pianos, people sang sometimes to the clapping of their bands, and often to the accompaniment of crude instruments which looked like old-fashioned guitars, violins or harps. Their songs told of battles, love, harvest time, hunting and other events in their lives. Before men knew how to write and print music, songs were preserved by being treas ured in the memory of the people. Every country had its own peculiar songs which were passed down from father to son, sometimes through hun dreds of years. In more modern times, interested people have from time to time printed collections of these songs of the different nations, and nowadays there are many enthusiastic collectors who are printing these songs so that we may all know them. This kind of mueic is called folksongs. These in clude the songs which the “folk," or people, sing and treasure in their heart and^ memory .—St Nicholas. The Telltale Nose. It has been pointed out that, were a polar bear of a darker color, if’would have no chance at all to stalk its prey, especially seals. The only black spot about it is the tip of its nose bailors who first landed on the unev plored arctic shores stated that the bears used to take them for seals and begin to stalk them at a considerate distance, lying down flat on their hi lies and wriggling along m that nosi' lion until they came to an Ice hum mock, when they would get up peer over to see if the “seals" ’ were alarmed, and wriggle on again The sailors said that they could al ways see the black nose when the bear got near, but vowed that the ani mal put his paw over his muzzle to [ hide it.—Harper's Weekly.