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About The Sunday Oregonian. (Portland, Ore.) 1881-current | View Entire Issue (Sept. 6, 1908)
TITE SUNDAY OHEGONIAN, PORTLAND, SEPTEMBER 1908. 10 JDV IF (US 00? . pmm Pimm on he Job km WELL say. this is where we mark up one on Pinckney. And It's time too. for he's done the grin art at me so often he wu comln to think I irii gettin' Into the Silver class. Tou know about Pinckney. He'a the bubble on top of the glass, the anapper on the whip lash, the aunny pot at the club. He'a about aa serious aa a kitten playln' with a string, and the carea on his mind weigh moat aa heavy aa an extra rooster feather on a Spring bon net. Thafa what cornea of havin' a self ralaln" Income, a small Hat of relatlvea, and a moderate thirat. If anything boba up that needs to be worried over like whether he'a got vests enough to last through a little trip to London and back, or whether he's doubled up on his dates why, he Just tells his man about It. and then forgets. For a trouble dodger he'a got the little birds in the trees carryln' weight. Pinckney'a liable to show up at the studio here 'every day for a week, and then again I won't get glimpse of him for a month. It'a always safe to expect him when you see him, and it's a waste of time wonderin' what he'll be up to next. But one of the things I likes most about Pinckney Is that he ain't livin' yesterday or tomorrow. It'a always this A. M. with him. and the rest of the calendar takes care of Itself. So I wa'n't any surprised, aa t was doln' a few laps on the avenue awnne back, to hear him give me the hall. "Oh. I say. Shorty!" says he, wavln' his stick. "Got anything' on?" "Nothin' but my clothes," says I. "Good!" sayg he. "Come with me, then." "Sure you know where you're goin'?" says I. " Oh, yes. he was almost. It was some pier or other he was headed for, and he has the number writ down on a card if he could find the card. By luck he digs It up out of his cigarette case, where his man has put It on purpose, and then he proceeds to whistle up a cab. Say. If It wa'n't for them cabbies, I reckon Pinck ney would take root somewhere. "Meetln" some one, or seein' 'em off?" says I, as we climha in. "Hanged if I know yet," saya Pinck ney. that Jack and Jill would be In the Lu "Oh, no." says he. "That is, I hadn't planned to, you know. And come to think of it, I believe I am to meet er Jack and Jill." "Names sound kind of familiar," says I. "'Whafs the breed?" "Wliat would you guess?" says he. "A pair of spotted poines." saya I. "By Jove!" says he, "I hadn't thought of ponies." "Say." says I. slzln' him up to see If he was handin' me a Josh, "you don't mean to give out that you're lookin for a brace of something to come In on the steamer, and don't know whether they'll be tame or wild, long haired or short, crated or live stock?" "Live stock!" saya he, beamln'. "That's exactly tbe word I have teen trying to think of. Thafa what I shall ask for. Thanks, awfully. Shorty, for the hint." "You're welcome," says I. "It looks like you need all the help along that line you can get. Do you remember If this pair was somethln' yon sent for, or is it a birthday surprise 7' With that he unloaded aa much of the tale as he's accumulated up to date. Seems he'd Just got a cablegram from some Arm In London that signs them selves Tootle. Tupper St Tootle, sayln' that Jack and Jill would Tjp on the L eania, as per letter. "And then you lost the letter?" says L No. he hadn't lost it. not that he knew of. He supposes that it's with the rest of last week's mall, that he hasn't looked over yet. The trouble was he'd been out of town, and hadn't been back more'n a day or so and he could read letters when there wa'n't anything else to do. That's Pinckney, from the ground up. "Why not go back and get the letter jowT says I. "Then you'll know all about Jack and Jill." "Oh, bother!" aays he. "That would spoil all the fun. Let's see what they're like first, and read about them after ward." "If it suits you," says I, "ifs all the same to me. Only you won't know whether to send for a hostler or an ani mal trainer." "Perhaps I'd better engage both," saya Pinckney. If they'd been handy, he would have too: but they wa'n't, so down we sails to the pier, where the folks was com in" ashore. first thins; Pinckney spies after we had rushed the gangplank la a gent with a healthy growth of underbrush on his face and a lot of gold on hla sleeves. By the way they got together, I see that they waa old friends. "I hear you have something on board consigned to me Captain?" aays Pinck ney. "Something In the way of live stock, eh?" and he pokes Cap in the ribs with his cane. "Right you are," saya Capple. chucklln through his whiskers. "And the liveliest kind of live stock we ever carried, sir." Pinckney gives me a nudge, aa much as to say he'd struck It first crack, and then he remarks, "Ah! And where are they now?" "Why,"' says the Cap. "they were cruising around the promenade deck a mlaute ago: but. Lor bless you, sir! there's no telling where they are now up on the bridge, or down in the boiler room. They're a pair of colts, those two." "ColU!" says Pinckney, gaspln", "Tou mean ponies, don't you?" "Well. well, ponies or colts, it's all one. They're lively enough for either, and Heigho! Here they come, the rascals." There is a whoop and a scamper, and along the deck rushes a couple of or 7-year-old youngsters, that makes a dive for the Cap'n, catches him around either leg. and almost upsets him. They was twins, and It didn't need the kilt suits Jus: alike and the hair boxed Just the same to show It. either. They couldn't have been, better matched if they'd been a pair of socks, and the faces of 'em was all grins and mischief. Say. anyone with a heart in him couldn't help taktn' to kids like that, provldln' they didn't take to htm first. "Here you are. sir.- says the Cap'n "here's your Jack and Jill, and I wish you luck with them. It'll be a good 5 J iJS-.. - A WAITER GOES month before I can get back the disci pline aboard: but I'm glad I had the bringing of 'em over. Hjere you are, you holy terrors here's the Uncle Pinckney you've been howling for!" At that they let loose of the Cap, gives a warwhoop In chorus, and lands on Pinckney with a reg'lar flyin" tackle, both talkin' to once. Well say, he didn't know whether to holler for help or laugh. He Just stands there and looks foolish, while one of 'em ahlna up and gets an overhand holt on his lilac necktie. And about then I notices some one bearin down on us from the other side of the deck. 8he was one of these tall, straight, deep-chested, wide-eyed girls, built like the Goddess of Liberty, and with cheeka like a bunch of sweet peas. Say, she was all right, she was; and If It hadn't been for the Paris clothes she was weartn' home I could have made a guess whether she' came from Denver, Dallas, or St. Paul. Anyway, we don't raise many of that kind in New York. She has her eyea on the youngsters. "Goodbye, Jack and Jill." says she, wavln' her hand at 'em. But nobody gets past them kids as easy as that. They yells "Miss Ger trude!" at her like she was a mile off, and points to Pinckney, and Inside of a minute they has towed 'em together, pushed 'em up against the rail, and Is makin' 'em acquainted at the rate of a mile a minute. "Pleased, I aure," says Miss Gerty. "Jack and Jill are great friends of mine. I suppose you are their Uncle Pinckney." "I'm almost beginning to believe I am," says Pinckney. "Why." says she, "aren't you" "Oh. that's my name," says he. "Only I didn't know that I was an uncle. Doubtless It's all right, though. I'll look it up." With that she eyes him like she thought he was Just out of the nut factory, and the more Pinckney tries to explain, the. Worse he gets twisted. Finally he turns to the twins. "See here, young sters," says be, "which one of you is Jack?" "Me," says one of 'era. "I'se Jack." "Well, Jack," says Pinckney, "what Is your last name?" " "Anstruther." says the kid. "The devil!" says Pinckney, before he could stop it. Then he begs pardon all round. "I see," says he. "I had al most forgotten about Jack Anstruther, though I shouldn't. So Jack la your papa. Is he? And where is Jack now?" Some one must have trained them to do it. for they gets their heads, together, like they was goin' to sing a hymn, rolls up their eyes, and pipes out. "Our papa is up there." "The deuce you say! I wouldn't have thought it!" gasps Pinckney. "No, no! I I mean I hadn't heard of It." "It was a bad break, though; hut the girl sees how cut up he is about It, and smooths everything out with a laugh. "I fancy Jack and Jill know very lit tle of such things,", says she; "but they can tell you all about Marie. "Marie's gone!" shouts tbe kids. "She ays we drove her crazy." That was the way the story cum out. steady by Jerks. The meat of It was that som one of Pinckney'a old chums had passed in somewhere abroad, and for some reason or other these twins of his had been shipped over to Pinckney in care of a French governess. Between not knowing how to herd a pair of lively ones like Jack and Jill, and her get tin- in terested in a tall gent with a lovely black mustache, Marie had kind, of shifted her Job off onto the rest of th'e -passengers, specially Gerty. , and the minute the steamer touched the dock she had rolled her hoop. "Pinckney," saya L "It'a. you to the bat." He looks at the twins doubtful, then he squints at me, and next be looks at Miss Gertrude. "By Jove!" says he. "It appears that way, doesn't it? I won der how long I am expected tov keep them?" The twins don't know; I didn't; and neither does Gerty. "I had planned to take a noon train West." says she: "but if you think I could help In getting Jack and Jill ashore, I'll stay over for a few hours." "Will your saya he. "That's -ripping good of you. Really, you know, I never took care of twins before." "How odd!" says she, tearin' off a lit tle laugh that sounds as if it come out of a music box. "I suppose you will take them home?" "Home!" says Pinckney. Say, you'd thought he never heard the word before. V ;!-. .. .. - "l v.-.-.-. i. DOWN WITH UMPTEEN DOLLARS' "Why ah er I live at the club, you know." ' "Oh," says she. "Would a hotel do?" says Pinckney. "You might try it," says she, throwin' me a look that was all twinkles. Then we rounds up the kids' traps, sees to their baggage, and calls another cab, Pinckney and the girl takes Jill, I loads Jack in with me. and off we starts. It was a grea't ride. Ever try to answer all the Questions a kid of that age can think up? Say, I was three behind and short of breath before we'd gone 10 blocks. ."Is all this America?" says Mr. Jack, pointln' up Broadway. "No, sonny," says I; "this is little old New York." "Where's America, then?" says he. "Around the edges," says I. "I'm goin' to be President some day," says he. "Are you?" "Not till Teddy lets go. anyway," says I. "Who's Teddy?" says he. "The man behind the stick," says I. "I wish I had a stick," says Jack; "then I could whip the hossle. I wish I had auffln' to eat, too." "I'd give a dollar if you had," says I. It seems that Jill has been struck with the same idea, for pretty soon we comes together, and Pinckney shouts that we're all goin' to have lunch. Now, there's a lot of eatin' shops in this town; but I'll bet Pinckney coudln't name more'n four, to save his neok, and the Fifth-avenue Joint he picks out was the one he's most used to. It ain't what you'd call a fam'ly place. Mostly the people who hang out there belong to the Spender clan. It's where the thousand-dollar tenors, and the ex steel "presidents, and the pick of the pony ballet come for broiled birds and bottled bubbles. But that don't bother Pinckney a bit; so we blazes right In, kids an' all. The head waiter most has a fit when he spots Pinckney towin" a twin with each hand; hut he plants us at a round table in the middle of the room, turns ontho electric light under the eeashell Bhades, and passes out the food programmes. I looked over the card; but as there wa'n't anything entered that I'd ever met be fore, I passes. Gerty, she takes a look around, and smiles. But the twins wa'n't a bit fcazed. "What will it be, youngsters?" says Pinckney. Z o far Away, 4. E t L .! Tl?eir prftinj Aii?jT5- mm b1 : r va? St&rfir- Their fiarfimaf loir o'tv htxA nA evervwhere v III ' - WORTH OF DISHES. "Jam," says they. "Jam it is," says Pinckney, and orders a couple of Jars. "Don't you think they ought to have something besides sweets?" says Miss Gerty. "Blessed if I know," says Pinckney, and he puts it up to the kids if there wa'n't anything else they'd like. , "Yep!" says they eagerly. "Pickles." That's what they had, too, jam and pickles, with a little bread on the side. Then, while he was flnishln' off the grilled bones, or whatever it was Pinck ney had guessed at. they slides out of their chairs and organizes a game of tag. I've heard of a lot of queer doln's beln' pulled off in that partic'Iar caffy, but I'll bet this was the first game of cross tag ever let loose there. It .was a lively one, for the tables was most all filled, and the tray Jugglers was skatin' around thick. That only made it all the more lnterestln' for the kids. Divln' be tween the legs of gascons loaded down with silver and china dishes was the best sport they'd struck in a month, and they just whooped It up. I could see the head waiter standm on tiptoes, watchln' 'em and holdln' his breath. Pinckney was beginnin' to look worried, too; but Gerty was settln' there. as calm and emllln' as if they was playln' in a vacant lot. It waa easy to aee she wa'n't one of the worryin' kind. "I wonder If I shouldn't stop them?" says Pinckney. Before he's hardly got It out, there comes a. bang and a smash, and a fat French waiter goes down with umpteen .dollars' worth of fancy grub and dishes. "Perhaps you'd better," says Gerty. "Yes," says I. "some of them careless waiters might fall on one of 'em." With that Pinckney starts after 'em tall hat, cane, and all. The kids see him, and take it that he's Joined the game. "Oh, here's Uncle Pinckney!" they shouts. "You're it. Uncle Pinckney!" and off they goes. That sets everybody roarin' except Pinckney. He turns a nice shade of red, and gives it up. I guess they'd put the place all to the -bad if Miss Gerty hadn't stood up smllln' and held her hands out to them. They come to her like she'd pulled a string, and in a minute it was all over. "Pinckney," says I, "you want to re- Obegoh3uiaer Day5. by!& 15 - f !csJ 6tr tad M)6 rywl warn rpiraai7iy p-iip jam. Td tofipry bi)Ivy WQif4- vifftip fy-'tfy, Witt) kipdly Havo tKpdir vr !?&d. W kpwd fyrfkefy czoryX far ardu f, LAyd ff)rrewit)$lbtori)tod. :" ' to 4 i -:f I NEVER HAD A hearse this uncle act some before you spring it on the public again." "I wish I could get at that letter and find out how long this Is going to last," says he, sighln' and moppln' his noble brow. But if Pinckney was shy on time for letter readin' before, he had less of it now. The three of us put in the after noon lookin' after that 'pair of kids, and we was all busy at that. Twice Miss Gerty started to break away and go for a train; but both times Pinckney sent me to call her back. Soon's she 'got on the scene everything was lovely. Plnokney had picked out a suite of rooms at the Waldorf, and he thought as soon as he could get hold of a governess and a maid his troubles would be over. But it wa'n't so easy to pick up a pair of twin trainers. Three or four sets shows up; but when they starts to ask questions about who the twins belongs to, and who Pinckney was, and where Miss Gerty comes In, and .'what was I doin" there, they gets a touch of pneumonia in the feet. x "I ain't casting any insinuations," says one; "but I never have been mixed up in a kidnaping case before, and I guess I won't begin now." "The sassy thing!" says L as she bangs the door. Pinckney looks stunned: but Miss Gerty only laughs. "Perhaps you'd better let me go out and Dickens' "Dan'l Quilp" a Real Character Gerald Carlton in the Brooklyn Eagle. I HAVE heard it said very frequently that the well-known character of Daniel Qullp, in "The Old Curiosity Shop," was nothing more than a fancy sketch, or, at best, an overdrawn cari cature. This has not only been said on the lecture platform, but In books and newspapers. It is not necessary to give names here, which I could readily do, head lng my list with at least two distin gulshed Americans of International repute. Now, to probe to the bottom this unfounded and, in one instance which I shall name, harsh and unjust criticism. . I happened to be in London. England, in 1874, doing some newspaper work. During my stay In the capital I met many prominent newspaper men among them an Oxford University graduate named Haley. Mr. Haley had been on the staffs of several London newspapers, an editorial writer and special correspondent. When I first met Haley he was on the Morning Chronicle and clerkenwell News, a newspaper in which Dickens first sketches by "Box" appeared. I had heard of the author being a caricaturist before leaving tbe States and thought there might be some truth in the charges made, particularly in regard to Mr. Dan'l Quilp. Informed that Mr. Haley had been a friend and contemporary of the novelist, I decid ed to question, blm relative to the mat ter. "With respect to Daniel Quilp." said Mr. Haley. "I can give you the in formation you ere in search of. I may truthfully say that Qullp was no cari cature In any sense, but a flesh and blood character still living and still residing in London. I can point 'him out to you any day you wish. "As to his -not having an existence only in the novelist's fancy that is all moonshine. Of course, the man who sat for Qullp is now advanced in years. though his hair and skin and stature are as they were then, with little change. The color of Quilp's hair was a dirty dark brown, his face swarthy, his eyes keenly penetrating and mall clous. He had a manner of standing and bending over that made him ap pear dwarfish. Quilp was also slightly bandy-legged and at times seemed to be cross-eyed. Dr. Byrne, as he calls himself, is that even to this day." "Did I understand you to say that Quilp's real name was Byrne?" I asked. with some curiosity. "Yes." "An Irishman, of course?" said I, judging haphazard by the name. Tnat s wnat ne claims 10 De, tnougn you'd never think It from his accent or his looks. He also claims to be a Trinity College man and an M. D." "Is he so?" "That's a doubtful question: I don't know," answered Haley. "I should rather think not. though the man's English and breeding, when he chooses, are perfect. 'How did Charles Dickens come to take him as a character?" I pursued. "Well, the novelist had heard of Byrne's extraordinary personality from reportorlal friend, and having in mind 'Master Humphrey's Clock," later , "1 BETTER TIME. find some one," says she. "And maybe I'll stay over for a day." While she was gone Pinckney gets me to take a note up to his man, tellin' him to overhaul the mail and send all the London letters down. That took me less'n an hour, but when I gets back to the ho tel I finds Pinckney with furrows in his brow, tryln" to make things right with the manager. He'd only left the twins locked up in the rooms for 10 minutes or so, while he goes down for some cigar ettes and the afternoon papers; but be fore he gets back they've rung up every thing, from the hall maids to the fire de partment, run the bath tub over, and rigged the patent, fire escape out of the window. "Was It you that was tellin' about not wantin' to miss anyfun?" says I. "Don't rub it in. Shorty," says he. "Did you get that blamed footle letter?" He grabs it eager. "Now," says he, "we'll see who these youngsters are to be handed over to, and when." The twins had got me harnessed up to a chair, and we was havin' an elegant time, when Pinckney gives a groan and hollers for me to come in and shut the door. "Shorty," says he, "what do you think? There Isn't anyone else. I've got to keep them." . Then he reads me the letter, which Is from some English lawyers, sayln.' that the late Mr. Anstruther, havin' no near the 'Old Curiosity Shop.' he commis sioned me to interview him. I did so, and the result was Qullp in 'The Old Curiosity Shop.' " "Did Dickens see Byrne before he drew the character of Quilp?" "Yes. He was over one hour in his company. Mr. Dickens' master mind saw instantly the possibilities In such a personality and we all know now how profound were his views of such characterizations. But you'd better see Byrne yourself and judge." sug gested Haley. "Even very clever people sometimes criticise without knowing what they criticise," Haley pursued; "and I'm not surprised at many critics dubbing a great master, such as Charles Dickens undoubtedly was, as an extravagant caricaturist. Some find fault with his English a few of your own country novelists and essayists. I hear and his style also. But let them go and do one-tenth as -well, and tney may re tire on laurels well earned." "When can I see this Dr. Byrne?" "Any night this week. at either the Old Bell, the Temple Forum or the Cogers' Hall. Im on the outs now with Byrne, but I'll get Gyles to Intro duce you. I'll mention it to Gyles to day, at the Chronicle." Alfred Gyles was a well-known char acter in those days on Fleet street, editing the Morning Chronicle, after the retirement of his friend, J. F. Robinson, the novelist. The appointment to meet Byrne was for the following Wednesday night and the place the Old Bell, a half-and-half literary and newspaper house. Some very odd characters used to go there among the rest an occasional contributor to the Brooklyn Eagle in Mr. Klnsella's time Chief Robertson, otherwise Lord Dundonachll, an ardent student of Hugo Miller, the geologist; Tom Gibson, a reputed nephew of the then Bishop of London, a Greek scholar and a warm admirer of Professor John Stuart Blackie, one of the greatest Grecians of the oentury; David Murray Smith, a contributor to the Encyclo pedia Britanntea, and brother to James Smith, the author of "The Life Drama."' which created such a furore in literary circles five and thirty years ago. Oc casionally would drop Into the "Bell" John Augustus O'Shea and Horace St. John, of the Standard, war correspond ent and editorial writer. George Augustus Sala and his friend Tom Hood, of Fun, have also been known as occasional visitors, and last but not least, an American colonel named Wadleigh a gentleman to his finger ends. I had already met Alfred Gyles, a clever writer of great executive ability, whose weakness was his sociable, kind ly heart and who had found great favor with William Ewart Gladstone, who liked the man for his sterling worth. The Old Bell was a low-celled tav ern on lower Fleet street, of four rooms, conducted by a man (so It was reported) who had begun life In insig nificant piratical exploits and who had wound up his sea-going career as a blockade-runner during our Civil War. He had narrow escapes. So, deciding that a tavern was preferable to the deck of a piratical craft, slaver or blockade-runner, with the chance of being strung up, he hit upon the tav ern as at least a safer money-getter relations, has asked that his two chil dren, Jack and Jill, should be sent over to his old and dear friend, Mr. Lionel Ogden Pinckney Bruce, with the request that he act as their guardian until they should become of age. The letter also says that there's a wad of money in the bank for expenses. "And the deuce of It Is, I can't refuse," says Pinckney. "Jack once did me a good turn that I can never forget." "Well, this makes twice, then," says I. "But cheer up. For a bachelor, you're doin' well, ain't you? Now all you need Is an account at the grocer's, and you're almost as good as a fam'ly man." "But," says he. "I know nothing about bringing up children." "Oh. you'll learn." says I. "You'll be manager of an orphan asylum yet." It wa'n't until Miss Gerty shows up with a broad-faced Swedish nurse that Pinckney gets his. courage back. Qerty tells him he can take the night off, as she'll be on the Job until mornln'; and Pinckney says the thoughts of goin back to the club never seemed quite so good to him as then. "So long," says I; "but don't forget that you're an uncle." I has a picture of Pinckney takln' them twins by the hand, about the second day, and headin' for some board in' school or ( private home. I couldn't help thlnkln' about what a shame it was goin' to be, too, for they sure was a cute pair of youngsters too cute to be farmed out reckless. Course, though, I couldn't see Pinckney doln' anything else. Even If he was mar-j rled to one of them lady nectarines in thej crowd he travels with, and had a kid of, his own, I guess It would be a case of mamma and papa havin' to be Introduced, to little Gwendolyn every once in awhile' by the head of the nursery department.! Oh, I has a real good time for a few days, stewln' over them kids, and won derin' how they and Pinckney was comln' on. And then yesterday I runs across the whole bunch, Miss Gerty and all, paradln' down the avenue bound for a candy shop, the whole four of "em as smilin' as If thoy: was startln' on a picnic. "Chee, Pinckney!" says I, "you look like you was pleased with the amateur uncle business." "Why not?" says he. "You ought ta see how glad those youngsters are to see me when I come In. And we have great sport." "Hotel people still friendly?" says I. "Why," says he, "I believe there have been a few complaints. But we'll soon be out of that. I've leased a country house for the Summer, you know." "A house!" says I. "You with a house! Who'll run it?" "9-s-s-sh!" says he, pullln''me one sldn and tatlkln' Into my ear. "I'm going West tonight, to bring on her mother, and " "Oh, I see," says I. "You're goin" to offer Gerty the Job?" Pinckney gets a color on his cheekbones) at that. "She's a charming girl, Shorty,"; says he. "She's nothin' less," says I; "and them twins are all right, too. But say. Plnck- ney, I'll bet you never meet a steamer again without knowln' all about why you're there. Eh?" than the element on which he had passed so many years. Between 8 and 9 on Wednesday night I was Introduced to Dr. Byrne by Gyles. During the conversation. Alfred alluded to Dickens' Qullp. It was then I saw the f lesh-and-blood character of the delineation and how true the great novelist had drawn the natural char acteristics of the man Byrne as Qullp. In all my experiences and they have been varied I had up to this never met, a man with that basilisk expression of eye ana quailing, savage nunior oi visage as this self-styled Irish doctor, Mr. Byrne. Every feature of Dickens'. Qullp was there, and. In my judgment,! the . character was rather under than, overdrawn, by the novelist. I met Haley next day in the editorial rooms of the Chronicle, and he asked me what I thought of the doctor. "True to the life," I answered. "There is no caricaturing at all about Dan'l Qullp. The real and the imag-; Inary are as two peas In a pod." Locusts Worse Than Rebellion. Baltimore American. , ' Locusts are proving hardly less de- j structlve In German Southwest Africa! than the three years' rising of natives, j A settler not long ago attempted to de- ; fend his little plot of land by digging all ; around it a ditch one yard broad and: of equal depth, at the bottom of which j he lighted a fire. But the Insects swarmed;' into the ditch till the flames had been j extinguished by their accumlated corpses. - y Snake Cbase by Auto Power. Baltimore American. Only people In automobiles dare pass Clarke's pond, on tho outskirts of Tor-' rington. Conn., because a snake, which. ' according to those who have seen It, ' measures 10 feet In length and is 6 Inches j in diameter, has made Its appearance . there. Men, women and children have J been chased by the reptile. Motorists are j planning a hunt and some are already ' practicing firing as their cars glide along. ' Mother and Home. TrhU pfm appears In a rurvynr'i note book, in which it was writtes RVral years ego, after the poet had harl the pt etory of a lone prospector In the Go!! Mountain mining: district of Nevada. It haa never be fore been published.) Ai I it all alone In mr cabin tonlKht On the mountain' rough creit. whit with mow, And watch th pin knots throw their flicker ing light, And hear the sad winds as they blow. Oft' I think of another, a bright, happy Are, And wonder why thua I'm to roam; Picture 'round it a mother, a elmer, a sir Juat a plctur of mother and home. When the snags of the Fouth mid the cottoa Cornea again a or old to mine ear. And memories- long aince forgotten Take me back to the old home ho dear. For it'a only the thoughts of hla home, after all. That makes the poor miner hunt gold: The thought that In happiness he yet may recall The days now dark, dreary and cold. In March of tb gold that we all ao much lack. I have traveled from Victor to Xome. With the hopes that In rlchea I yet could go oacg Back to childhood's old mother and home. When the songs of the South, 'mid the cot ton. Come again as of old to mine ear. And memories long since forgotten Belmbellish my old borne ao dear.
