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About The Loup City northwestern. (Loup City, Neb.) 189?-1917 | View Entire Issue (July 2, 1914)
. — I csOzrAZ&er~ V th* rjf at iaef. I(ll 9 • o • pt* tb* Iwlai* UM at Ind*. i“**d«*oc» aoti trmmOos: To th* Cbfliik It ■•»«! h1gh iMMaa! *■*«». th* Fyfirtb at Jnl* - •*. the raetiLriul congress finally •dopt-d the draft of the Declaration. country as a whole became a traitor to the crown of England, but the men who later subscribed their ®*me* to that document- written proof of their defiance of England's bits* became martyrs to the Decla ration is order that this country might lift from around her neck the j aui.itoD*- of English oppression they placed around their own necks the hangman's rope. . Nor did those men who made up the conOu-DtaJ congress believe other wise When. August *_ 177«. the en grossed copy of the Declaration was about to be signed bj those present. John Hancock, president of the coo gress. said We must be unanimous. there most be so pull rig different ways, we most ail hang together " lo Benjamin Franklin replied. * we must, .ndeed. all hang together, or most assuredly w- shall all hang separately *" Hancock. as president, probably signed first, and It ts said that, as he put his name to the parchment, in a large, strong hand, he rose, and ex claimed: “There' John M can read my name without spectacle*, and may now double his reward of £M» for my bead That D my defiance"" Abd “John Hull' did read his name In fact, he was at great pains to read ail Use name* Inscribed upon that doc ument The® he sent oat an order for the capture at the men who had so dared dsfy their king . • S uw UUhUil UTS " UK u ru.y«irv there were sereral of the s'gners of the Dec Ural ion made prisoner* men who tasted to the full England a hat rads- Richard Stockton. Francis Lowls. Arthur Middleton. Lyman Hall, tieurge Walton. Edward Rutledge. Thomas Heyward and John Hart were ail among those who In the true sense of the term became martyrs to the Lav-taratPis o! Independence Richard Stockton, one at New Jer sey's signers, perhaps more than any of the others, suffered as a result of his eonrtctnma So great. In fact, were the abases heaped upon him that con grass. hearing at them, sent word to lleweral Howe that if the treatment ac costed him were sot more humane he might -sped all British soldiers cap tured in the future to be treated In like manner Nearly fifty years of age when he signed the Declaration. Richard Stock urn was in addition a delicate man. Toward the end of 1~« Mr Stockton (•earned his seal In congress after having completed a mission an which that body had sent him Shortly after his return, howeeer. he found It neons •ary to tear# for home to find a safer phn for his family (han his home then afforded, aa It lay In the path cf the enemy, who were making a tri ■mphal march through New Jersey He realized that not only the men rhemeotres who signed the Iledarw lion, but their families as well, had become the objects of vengeance by the British, and also that the reduced number of the American army made It impossible to hope for protection from that quarter Thirty miles from his home, in Monmouth county, he left his family in safety. Refusing to im peril them, however, with his pres ence. he went to reside with a Mr. Covenhoven. a friend and patriot. But fate was against him as. through the treachery of some one. a party of Brit ish refugees was Informed of his tem porary residence Surrounding the bouse at night.! both Stockton arid Covenhoven were surprised and captured by this party Bragged from their beds, stripped and Plundered of their possessions, they were started to New York Stockton, however, was first taken to Amboy j and there thrown into the common 1 goal " There, destitute and exposed, ; he was allowed to suffer from the ex- ; treme cold and want of sufficient pro- ; tectiori Later, when taken to New York he w as again placed In a common Jail and subjected to similar treatment. So great were his sufferings that he i contracted the disease which resulted in his death not long afterward. Not only the comforts, but Ae bare necessities of life were refused Stock ton during his imprisonment In New ; York. At one time he was left with absolutely no food for more than 24 rours. ana men given some wmcn was so coarse in quality, not to mention scanty in amount, that he would have ] been better off without lt Fortunately. however, word of his treatment reached congress. A mes sage was Immediately sent General Howe, stating that he would either have to treat Stockton more humanely or expect retaliation. Such iU treatment as Stockton en dured In prison did not make up the whole of his sufferings at the hands ' of the British. While he was thus confined his property was plundered, his personal papers burned, and his fine library destroyed, as were also his horses and cattle. When peace finally prevailed. Stock ton returned home to find all in rulna, his property destroyed, his finances wiped out. So great was his poverty that he was forced to call upon friends to secure the necessaries of life for himself and family. This state of af fairs so depressed him him that his already delicate condition was further aggravated, and In February. 1781. he died when but fifty-one years of age. Thomas Heyward. Jr., was another of the martyrs In 1778 he accepted a seat on the bench of the criminal and ' civil courts cf South Carolina under the new government. This office was not without Its attendant danger. The 1 British lay in the vicinity of Charles ton. and it was in that city that the sessions were held. On one occasion Hayward presided at the trial of some persons charged with treason. They were convicted of having held corre spondence with the enemy and exe cuted In full view of the British lines. This act. especially, led to Hey ward's great disfavor in the eyes of the British. At the same time he was a Judge he held a military commission and was In active service. Command ing a battalion of artillery. Heyward and Rutledge were together during the defense of Charleston. In one en counter Heyward received a gunshot w-ound. the scar of which he carried the remainder of his life. Although in that engagement victory was with the Americans. Charleston was destined to fall. Then Heyward, like his two compatriots, was taken prisoner and sent to St. Augustine, where he remained a year. During his imprisonment his plantation was raid ed and his slaves sent to Jamaica. Some were afterward reclaimed Although not intentional on the part of the British the trip from St. Augus tine to Philadelphia came near being the means of Heyward's death. While on the boat he in some way lost his balance and fell overboard. Straight way vigorous efforts were made for his recovery, but the time consumed was so great that it was only by clinging to the ship's rudder that he was saved from drowning Upon returning home he was still further afflicted, this time by the loss of his wife. So depressed was he by all hia misfortunes that it was a considerable time before he re gained his normal condition and was able to fully discharge his public du ties Although never captured. John Hart of New Jersey was nevertheless made to feel the hatred England bore toward ail the signers of the Decla ration. "Honest John Hart." as he was called, was another one of the men who at the time they indorsed the separation of the colonies from England had nothing material to gain and much to lose. His farm, in Hun terdon county, was large., and his home was considerated as a "seat of hospitality." but so situated that, in the event of hostilities, it would be open to the ravages of the enemy. This Mr Hart realized when he took his stand, and later even more fully appreciated. When New Jersey was invaded by the English he was one of the men particularly sought His family, by a timely and distant re treat from their home, were saved personal violence, but he was forced to seek hiding. Prom one house to another he went, not daring to stay more than a single night under the same roof. W7hile thus trying to keep beyond the clutches of the British his farm was destroyed, and his stock, which was numerous and valuable, became the enemy’s spoil. The per sonal safety of himself and family was assured only by General Washington’s successful march upon Trenton, the capture of the Hessians posted there and the enforced retreat of the foe. .YkM Ukiftr Bail Last Ran*. «nn!|r<w yean a«o February 22. the labarty brll *u ran* for the last »i«^ This la contrary to the popular MM Tba aaaal theory pot tortb is that the oM hali »as cracked in 1*35 and ceased to be ran* after that time. Part of this notion Is correct and pan l> »ron* On the morning of June 8, 1835. the liberty bell, which for a century had been the city'* greatest instrument for showing joy or grief, was being tolled for Chief Justice John Mar shall On that occasion it was badly cracked But. broken as It was. the bell was afterward rung on great oc casions. although the tones were but sorry reminders of the once power ful sound. So it happened that 71 years ago—Washington’s birthday, 1843—the old bell was once again tolled in Joy. At that time, however, the previous crack became so wide that the tones were completely broken. It was never rung after that day. and for 71 years it has remained voiceless Perhaps love does make the world go round when the lovers are lntox ; icated with happiness. Lost Chance of Immortality. Many families la the South could probably trace their ancwitry to one of the etchers of the Declaration had tt not been for a chance misfortune Caere!* seat, among her other dele gate*- John Measure and Kev J. J. /ably to the coocress Mr. Houston • as forced u> take sudden leave from the debate, however, when it was dis covered that Ur. Zubly was on his waf posthaste to Inform the crown governor Georgia of what was ta kins pta~e in I’httadelphia Zubly had been giving away the secrets of the executive sessions. He was ac cused on the floor of congress of so doing hr 8*mJ»el Chase of Maryland, but denied the charge* sad challenged proof. The proof was given, and he perforce fled back to Georgia, closely pursued by Houston. Fortunately, for the good of tbe country, by the time they reached Georgia the crown governor had already been deposed by the people, had escaped and taken refuge In an armed British vessel in i Srv*rnah harbor. But had it not, been for the necessity of following Dr. Zubly the name of John Houston would have been \ added to those of the other signers. -■-- # Those Straw Hats. Really, there is only one thing com mendable about the latest things 1c man millinery; a man's ears may stick out like the handles of a Jug and earn him no Jeers, but rather the envy of those whose headwear Is likely to fall down over their shoul ders st any time.—New York Press. Jonathan Crabshaw’s Qlorious A RurllfQ-i (^.E.Sfeer ——CmXV O. SIR." said Jonathan Crabshaw. "1 ain't got any money to waste in any such way If the rest of the people of this town want to make fools of themselves, that's their business. Let 'em go ahead and do it, but you needn't expect me to put a cent in this fund you’re raisin'. What do I care how much the people of Greenville are goin' to spend celebratin’? I^et 'em spend a million if they can raise it. They'll only have that much less to spend for things that might do their town some good." “But don't you see,” said Thomas Spurgeon, “that we can't afford to let Greenville get ahead of Paddington in this matter? Since the old-fashioned way of celebrating the Fourth has been done away with every town that amounts to anything has a general dis play which is for the benefit of every body. By stopping the sale of danger ous explosives and all that sort of thing we can have a day of comfort and safety; but we owe something to the youngsters, so we propose to have a fine exhibition of fireworks in the evening. It will be in charge of men who know how to handle such things, and you can readily see that it will be much bigger and more thrilling than it would be if everybody celebrated in his own way. Besides, there will be no chance for the boys to lose their fingers or have their eyes put out The people of Greenville have been boasting that they beat our town in everything, and we want to show them for once that they can't do it. Don't you feel that you can afford to con tribute a couple of dollars?” "So, I wouldn't contribute a couple of cente for any such foolishness. 1 tell you it's all poppycock. It’s nothin more nor less than burnin’ money up. What's the use teachin' the kids that they're to expect something every time we prevent ’em from actin' like a lot of crazy young savages l’m glad the shootin’ has been stopped. I wish they’d stop everything—fireworks and all. Them's my sentiments, and that'e all I’ve got to say.” It was on the following day that Jonathan t'rabshaw's wife received a letter from their son fn the city. “Jonathan.” she said when he came In from the garden. ''William's wife's got to go to the hospital." “That's just like them city women.” he grumbled. "They're always goin' to hospitals. If William had married a girl from the country he'd be a blamed sight better off than he is. Why ie he writin' to us about her goin' to the hospital, anyhow? I s’pose he's hard up and wants money, eh?” “I’m afraid your heart's hardened, pa,” Mrs. Crabshaw replied. “What’s the use feelin’ so bitter? William's the only child we’ve got. and if his wife ain’t our kind that's no reason why we should treat him as if he was our worst enemy. I s'pose he thought it would be different when he married her. Now she’s got the appendicitis and there's no knowin' what may hap pen. He wants to send little Henry “No, I Wouldn’t Contribute a Couple of Cents for Any Such Foolishness.” down here to stay with us for a week or two.” "Oh. that's what he is it? It’s a wonder he feels like t:.istin' him with us. Here he is, nearly ;en years old, and we ain't never seen hfm. And they named him after her pu, too, when, by rignte, he ought to teen named after me. Write back and toll ’em to keep him there. 1 don’t want no boy around here—specially no cl«7 boy.” Mrs. Crabshaw looked at her hus band for a long iime He was gen erally considered a "hard" man. Every body knew that he had plenty of money, but no one fever saw him spend any or it. His wife, who was growing feeble, was compelled to do her own housework and get along upon the barest necessities. He had driven his son away from home and then blamed him for not returning, humble and penitent. Most of hie time was spent in his garden. It was the only thing he semed to care for. Having given his wife orders to write that they had no place for their grandchild, the old man took it for granted that the matter was settled and walked out of the house. It was on the second of July that Jonathan Crabshaw, who was busy in his garden, heard the hinges of the gate squeaking. He looked up and saw a little boy who had Just stepped Inside. Nq little boy had ever entered there before. Jonathan Crabehaw's garden was forbidden territory. Even his wife was afraid to go into it. The little boy stood lor awhile, look ing at the "hard” old man who was half leaning upon his hoe. “Well,” the old man asked, “what do you want here?” “I want to pome in and help you,” the little boy replied. “Get out!” “Are you my grandpa?" “Your grandpa? What do you mean?” "I’m Henry. Grandma told me you was out here all alone.” Jonathan Crabshaw dropped his hoe and began rubbing the dirt from his hands. “How did you get here?" he asked. “I came all by myself on the train,” the little boy 6aid. “My papa put me in the car and grandma was waiting i for me when 1 got here. My mamma | is very sick.” There was a big apple tree in one ‘ corner of the garden, near the gate. | Under it was a seat which Jonathan j Crabshaw had made for himself. He ■ went to it and sat down. “Com here." he said. The little boy went to him and ; leaned upon his knee. The old man had a "hard” look, but in spite of that the little boy bore a I strong resemblance to him. t "So your name's Henry, is it?” ; "Yes. And your name's grandpa, isn’t it?" Tho “herd" look 6eemed to fade out j of Jonathan Crabshaw's face. “Well." he said with something that was almost a smile, “that ain't exactly i mv name, but you can call me it. I ' - -^ “Are Yo« My Grandpa?” j You've got another grandpa, though, . j haven't you?" “Yes, but I don't think I like him j as well as 1 like you.” I “Why not?” “He hasn’t any nice garden like this, , and he never sat under a nice big tree j like this alone with me. Why doesn’t ; grandma come out here with us?” “I—I don't know. Maybe we will | have her come out here with us some 1 time." “Grandpa, do you know what?" { “No. What?” "Day after tomorrow's the Fourth of | July." “Good gracious! Is it?" “Yes. You have the Fourth of July here, don't you?” “Of course we do.” “And fireworks?" “Fireworks? I’m, yes, we have fire works here, too.” “Goody! We’ll have some, won’t we?” “Certainly. And your name's Henry?" 1 - “But that's only part of it." “Oh! What's the rest of it?” “My name i6 Jonathan Henry Crab- I shaw." A rough old hand was laid gently | upon the little boy’s head. “How would you like it if I called . you Jonathan instead of Henry?" “I'd like it. That’s what papa al ways calls me when I do anything that makes him glad." Jonathan Crabshaw's contribution to the celebration fund made it possible for Paddington to "put It all over" Greenville in the matter of Fourth of July fireworks. When the old man and his wife and their little boy got I home after witnessing the splendid j display Mr. Crabshaw eaid: "Mother. I never really knew before what the Fourth of July was for. Ain’t | it been a glorious day all around?” | Then he kissed the little boy and 1 after that he put an arm around his ! ; wife and kissed her and said: j “I’m mighty glad Mary’s out of dan ger. As soon as she's well enough to get around again I guess we better go up ‘here and see about buyin’ ’em a house. Little Jonathan ought to have a nice yard to play in. and I can show ! him how to start a garden of his own." THE FLAG.' I^et It idly droop or sway To the wind's light will; Furl Its stars, or float In day; Flutter, or be still! It has held Its colors bright. Through the war-smoke dun; St* tl»ss emhlem of the Right, Whence success was won. 1-et it droop in graceful reat For a passing hour— Glory's banner, last and best; Freedom'* freshest flower! Fach re.1 s.ripe has blazoned forth Gospels writ in blood: j Every star has sung the birth Of some deathless good. I^et It droop, but not too long! On the eager wind i Bid it wave to shame the wrong; To Inspire mankind With a larger human love; With a truth as true As the heaven that broods above Its deep field of blue. In the gathering hosts of hope. In the march of man. Open for It place and scope. Bid It lead the van: Till beneath the searching skies Martyr-blood be found. Purer than our sacrifice. Crying from the ground: Till a flag with seme new light Out of Freedom’s sky. Kindles, through the gulfs or night. Holier blazonry. Let Its glow the darkness drown! Give our banner sway. Till Its joyful stars go down. In undrear»ed-o< day! —Lucy Larcom, Easiest Way to Make Fancy Waist IF there is one article of clothing upon which the manufacturers may depend for a long, long profit, more than upon any other, it is the fancy waist made of lace, chiffon, net, silk, embroidery or any other of the pret ty things which are so alluring and so fragile. The materials required are not in themselves very expensive, but tho finished product, as in the case of millinery, is so much a matter of translating fabrics into little poems of apparel that it is the idea and its working out that commands the price. And the price is usually something to cause a gasp like that following a plunge into cold water. The unfeel ing owner of an exclusive Fifth ave nue shop mentions anywhere from $15 to $90 in the most casual and off-hand way, when one begins inquiring as to the value of three yards of chiffon and a few bits of other materials sewed together. The easiest way to make these fancy waists is first to buy a dressmaker's form or dummy upon which to drape the material. Get one with the cor ! rect neck and waist measure, and 1 as like yourself in shape as possible. Simple waists of plain net or of lace are to be had in the department stores at a very reasonable price, that is in the neighborhood of two ot three dollars. Or a fou' nation waist may be made a very little cheaper at home. But those to be had in tha shops are cut on good and up-to-date lines. These waists make the best of foundations on which to drape the chiffon or net or lace or other fab rics which enter into the composition of fancy waists. Chiffon veils, in pretty colors and with hem-stitched edges, are easily^ used to make drapery for these waists. Plain chiffons, embroidered'voiles, and nets, answer the same purpose. In the waist pictured here voile is draped over a foundation waist of lace with line effect. In attempting a fancy waist, it la much th^ easiest way to select a waist, or the picture of one, and fol low out its details. Popular Hats for Vacation Trips I -.... 1 ---— NOW that the time for vacation trips is coming near and has, in fact, arrived, the consideration of hats comes up. hats which will do all their wearers have a right to expect them to The three shapes, two of them straight sailors, that are grouped in the picture given here, are fine ex amples of hats suitable for vacation trips. Besides the two sailors, the hat with taller crown, trimmed with wheat, is designed for matrons who do not want a hat as youthful as the plain sailor. The introduction of lacquered rib bon with its metallic-looking, highly lustrous surface (which suggests dur ability but does not really mean it), has given considerable strength to hats of black braid. A pretty model for an outing hat is made over a wire frame with silk fiber braid sewed to it. There is a collar of black lac quered ribbon laid in fluted plaits at intervals about the crown. Between the plaits are clusters of cherries. This is a hat with considerable dura bility to recommend it, as well aj* good looks. Flowers, so much in evidence aa the dressier hats of the season, are not used on outing or traveling hats. But fruits, less fragile, are a part of, the play, with cherries as the star. Fringed ribbons, that is, ribbons raveled out into fringed ends, or spaces, are pleasing on hats that de pend on ribbon alone for decoration But there are not many of these Too many good ornaments made ready to use. too many good substantial fancy feathers, save the time ofj trimmers. The trimming of hats of this kind; is distinctly within the scope of the home milliner. A shape originally be coming and simply trimmed is sure Ira turn out satisfactorily. Among one’s belongings good millinery materials, left over from other reasons, if of the right character, save money and an swer the purpose for traveling hats, JULIA BOTTOM LEY. No Slit Skirts Worn. "1 have not seen a single woman, well groomed or otherwise, in the streets of Paris wearing a slit skirt,” writes a fashion correspondent. “While speaking of skirts, I may tell you that the new ones, for all occasions, are worn a little longer and not loose ly gathered around the waist, or made with a full, plait at both front and back. By the way, the waist is not placed quite as high as last season. The tailor-made jackets are small and cut away in front, and most of them have the long, oval tail-piece back. Evening dresses aim distinctly at the grande and the Dresden china and Dolly Varden types do not tind ex pression in the mandates of la mode.” Metal Ribbons. Lightweight metal ribbons, in elaborate designs, are among the new est things offered for trimming dresses. These may be used In coiin bination with metal laces, or for vest ings or girdles on evening dresses.