L P Fislier
KIL Mi:i;j ,:,, LJ-1J u g '
VOLUME VI
ALBANY, OREGON, NOVEMBER 2'J, 1873.
NO. 23.
What a MiiicS . ii aaid to Me.
All. distinctly 1 retuewtor
Gentle wiv.c'ls from woman's Hp,
When the i wx twiltaht rested
On in1 ivM wlie.ru faiies trip,
And fluid lyUshfi) dylnjftimheri
Ea-el cm the nnrple lea.
As I heard in broken wIHsiktm
Wlnitn maiden -aid tome.
Curls blow lightly round my shoulders
Am Iho - 'ft win 1 kissed Hid vino,
Tin: (lurk eyes from darker lushes
Threw hoir Inve-IIjtht into mine:
At our : the brook went slnKtng
With a ifi tneio lions glee,
And Its music Bewned to who
Wh it a maiden said to nic.
In my arm anot Iter's rested,
.In my hand an ' tier's burned
And soi nmdorlv I pressed it
Thai the pressure was rotnmod i
Then 1 whlspere 1 low and asked her.
tfiny t rite love slie would ic,
And I think I need not led you,
Wha! u maiden wii J to me.
. -
TIIK WORLD AM) I.
Whether inv heart he glad or no,
Tho summers con. iho summers go,
The lanes grow dark with dying leaves;
Icicles lmii). liencai li the eaves ;
The asters wither to the snow.
Thus doth thu summer end and go.
Whether my life be g!nd or no.
Whether my life be sad or no,
The Winters podia, the winters go,
Tin: sunshine piayS with liu'iy leaves;
Swallows build a! tout the eaves;
The lovely wind flowers bend and blow;
Thus doth the winter come and go,
Whether uiy life bo sad or no.
Tot mother nature gives to me
A fond an I patient sympathy ;
In my ow n heart I tlnd the ilinnn
To make her tender, maraud warm ;
Through summer sunshine, winter snow,
Khe iJa-iis me, Sad or r lad or no.
TUB ViU'.Ti PEXACE.
Where they came from r. one
knew. Among the fanners near the
Ik-ml there was a mule ability ki con
duct researches beset by far more difli
culties than was that of the origin of
the Pikes; hut a charge of buckshot
which it good natural Yankee receiv
ed one evening, soon after utting
questions to a venerable like, exerted
a great depressing influence upon (he
spirit of Investigation. They were
not blood-thirsty, these pikes ; but
they had good reason to suspect all
Inquirers of being tit least deputy
sheriffs, if not worse, and it Pike's
hatred of officers of the law is equal
ed in intensity only by Ins hatred of
manual labor.
But, while there was doubt as to the
fatherland of the litllo colony of Pikes
at Jagger's Bend, their every neigh
bor would willingly make affidavit as
to the cause of their locating and their
remaining tit t'e Bend. When hu
manitarians and optimists argued it
was because the water was good and
convenient, and the Bend itselt caught
enough drift-wood, and that the dirt
would yield a little gold when manip
ulated by placer and pan, all farmers
end stock owners would freely admit
the validity of these reasons;' hut the
admission was made with a counte
nance whose indignation and sorrow
Indicated that the greater causes were
yet unnamed. With eyes speaking
emotions which words could not ex
press they would point to seel ions of
wheat fields minus their grain-bearing
beads ; to hides and hoofs of cattle
uuslaughtered by themselves; to
mothers of promising calves, whose
tender blentlngs answered not the ma
ternal call to the places which had
once known line horses, but had been
Untenanted since certain Pikes had
ff.ino across the mountains tor game.
They would accuse no man wrongful
ly ; but in a country where all farm
ers had wheat and cattle and horses,
and where prowling Indians and Mex
icans were not, how could these dis
appearances occur?
But to the people owning no prop
erty in tliu neighborhood--to tourists
and artists thu Pike settlement at
the Bond was as interesting and ugly
as a Syke terrier. The architecture of
the village was of original style, and
no duplicate existed. Of the "hall-dozen
residences, one was composed ex
clusively of sod, another of bark, yet
another of poles, roofed with a wagon
cover, and plastered on the outside
with mud ; the louulh was of slabs,
uleely split from logs which had drift
ed into the Bend ; the fifth was of
hide, stretched over a frame, strictly
Gothic from foundation to ridgepole ;
while the sixth, burrowed Into the
hillside, displayed only the barrel
which formed its chimney.
A more aristocratic community did
not exist on the Pacific coast. VI dt
the iikes when you would, you could
never see any one working. Of
churches, sehool-hou-es, stores and
other plefMan institutions, there were
none, and no Pike hemeancd himself
by entering a trade orsoiling his hands
by agriculture.
Yet unlo this peaceful, contented
neighborhood there found his way a
litnr who had been everywhere i i
die world without once being made
ilauie. He came to the house built
of slabs, and threatened the wife of
Tarn Trotwine. owner of the house ;.
and Sam. after sunning himself uneasi
ly tor a day or two, mounted a pony
and rode off for a doctor to drive the
intruder away.
When he returned he found all the
men hi the camii seated on a log in
front of his own door, and then he
knew he niu t prepare for the w orst
only one of the great influences
of the world could force every Pike
from his own door at exactly the same
time. There they sat, yellow faced,
bearded, long-hacked and bent, each
looking like the other, and all like
Sam, and, as he dismounted, they look
ed at him.
How is she?" said Sam. tying
his horse and the doctor's, while the
latter went in.
"Well." said the oldest man. with
deliberation, "wlmmiu's all tliar, if
that's any sign.''
Each man on the log inclined his
head slightly but positively to the left,
thus manifesting belief that 8am hud
been correctly and sufficiently answer
ed. Sam himself seemed k regard his
Information in about the same man
ner. Suddenly the rawhide widen formed
the door of Sam's house was pushed
aside, and a woman came out and
called Sam, and he disappeared from
his log.
As he entered his hut all the women
lifted sorrowful feces and retired; no
one even lingered, for the Pike has
not the common Imuran interest in
otfier people's business he Incjcs that,
as well as certain similar virtues of
civilization.
Sam dioppcd by the bedside and was
human, his heart was in the tight
place, and. though heavily intrenched
bv vedrs of laziness, whisky and to
bacco, it could be brought to the front,
and it came now.
The dying woman cast her eyes an
pealingly at the surgeon, and that
worthy stepped outside the door. Then
the yellow-faced woman said :
"Sam, doctor says 1 ain't got much
time left."
Mary," said Sam. "I wish ter God
I could die furyer. The children "
"It's them I want to talk about.
Siini," replied his w ife. "AnT I wish
limy could die with me, rather'n hev
'em live ez I've lied to, Not that yon
ain't Ih'Cii a kind husband to nie. lor
you hev. Whenever I've wanted meat
yev got it somehow; art' when yev
been ugly drunk yev kept away from
the house. But I'm dy in'. Sam, and
it's cos votrve killed me."
"Good Qod. Mary !" cried the as
tonished Sam. jumping up; "yn're
crazy here, doctor."
"Doctor can't do no good. Sam ;
keep still and listen, el yer love me
like yer Once sed yer did ; fur 1 hevu't
got much breath left," gasped the
woman.
"Mar ." said the aggrieved Sam;
"I swow to God I dunno what yer
drivln' at."
"It's jest this, Sam." replied the wo
man. "Yer ink me, tellin' me ye'd
love me an' honor inc. an' jxTteet me.
You mean ter to say now yer done it?
I'm a dyin', Sam hain't got no fa
vers to iisk of nobody, an' I'm tellin'
the truth, not knowln' what word 'II
be my last."
"Then tell a feller where the killin'
came ill, Mary, for heaven's sake."
said the unhappy Stun.
"It's come In all along. Sam," said
the woman. "There Is women in the
State-, so I've heerd, that marries fur
a home an' bread an' butter, hut you
promised more'n that, Sam. An' I've
w aited, an' it ain't come. An' there's
somethiu' in me that's all starved and
cut to nieces. An' it's voirr fault,
Sam. I tuk yer fur better or fur wuss,
an' I've never grumbled."
"I know yer hain't. Mary." whis
pered the conscience-stricken Pike.
"An' I know what yer mean. Kf
Ood'll only let yer be fur a few years,
I'll see if the thing can't he helped.
Don't cuss me, Mary I've never
knowed how I've been iignin'. I wish
there was something I could do 'fore
you go. to pay yer all 1 owe yer. I'd
go hack on everything that makes life
worth hevin'."
"Pay it to the children. Sam.", said
the sick woman, raising herself in her
miserable bed. "I'll forgive yerevery
tliiug if you'll do the right thing for
them. Do do everything!" said
the woman, throwing up her arms and
falling backward. Her husband's
arms caught her; his lips brought to
tier wan face a smile, which the grim
visitor, who an instant later stole her
breath, pityingly left in lull possession
of the rightfuFloneritance from which
if had been so long excluded.
Sam knelt for a moment with his
face beside his wife what lie said or
did the Lord only knew, but the doc
tor, who was of a speculative mind,
afterwards said that when Sam an-
peared at the door be showed the first
Pike face hi which lie fcad ever seen
any signs of a soul.
Sam went to the sod house, where
lived the oldest woman in the camp,
and briefly announced the end of Ids
wife. Then, after some consultation
with the old woman, Sam rode to the
town on one of his horses, leading
another. He came back with but one
horse and a large bundle; and' soon
the women w-'re making for Mrs.
Trotw ine her last .earthly robe, and
the first "new one she bad worn for
years. The in xt day a wagon brought
a ooffln and a minister,, and the whole
camp silently Mid respectfully follow
ed Mrs. Trotwine to a home with
w hich hc could find no fattlt.
For three days all the male Pikes in
the camp sat oil the log before Sam's
door and expressed their sympathy, as
did the friends of dob- hat is, t hev
held their peace. But oil the fourth
tlieir tongues were unloosed. As a
conversationalist the Pike is not a suc
cess, hut Sam's actions were so unusu
al and utterly unheard of that it seem
ed as if even the stones must have
wondered and communed among
themselves.
"I never heard of such a thing!"
paid Brown Buck ; "lie's gone and
bought new clothes tor each of the
young 'ims.'"
"Yes." said the patriarch of the
camp, "an' this momiii', when I went
down to the hank to soak my head,
'cos last night's liquor didn't agree
with it, I seed Sam with all his young
'ims as they was awashlng their faces
an' hands With soap. They'll ketch
their death and be on the hill with
their mother 'fore long, it he don't
look out. Somebody ought to reason
with him."
" Twoii't do no good, sighed Lhn
nimrJIm. "lie's lost his head, an'
reason just goes into one ear an' out
at t'otlier ear. When he was scrapin'
around this front door t'other day an'
1 asked him what he wuz a-layin' the
ground all boai and desolate fur, he
said he was done keeping pig-pen.
Now, everybody but him knows he
never had a pig. His head's gone,
just mark my words."
On the morning of the fourth day.
Sam's friends had at secured a full
attendance on the log. and were at
work upon their first pipes, when they
were startled by seeing Sam harness
his horse in the wagon and put alibis
children into it.
"Whar ye bound fur, Sam?" asked
the patriae!).
Sam blushed as near as a Pike
could, but answered with only a little
hesitation : "(Join' to take 'U1 to
school loMaxlield goin' to do it every
day."
The tncumbt its of the log were too
nearly paralyzed to remonstrate, hut
alter a few moments of silence the pat
riarch remarked in tones of feeling,
yet decision :
"He's hed a tough time of it, but
he's no business to ruin the settlement.
I'm an old man myself and I need
peace of mind, so I'm going to pack
up my traps and mosey, when the
folks 'at Si ax tie id knows what he's
dotal', they'll make him a constable or
a justice, an' I'm too much of a man
to live nigh any rich."
And next day the patriarch wheeled
his family and property to parts un
known. A tew days biter Jim JlerncK, a
brisk farmer a few miles from the
Bend, stood in front of his own house,
and shaded his eyes in solemn wonder.
It couldn't be he'd never heard of
such a thing before yet it was there
was no doubt of it there w as a Pike,
riding towards him in open daylight,
lie could swear that Pike had often vis
ited him- that is, his wheat-field and
corral after dark, hut a daylight visit
from a Pike was as unusual as a social
call of a Samaritan upon a Sew. And
when Sam for it was lie approached
Merrick and made his business known,
the farmer was more astonished and
confused than he had ever been in his
life before. Stun wanted to know for
how much money Merrick would plow
and plant a hundred and sixty acres of
wheat for him, and whether he would
take Sam's horse a line animal
brought from the States, and for which
Sam could show a hill of sale as secu
rity for tlie amount until he could har
vest and sell bis crop. Merrick so well
understood the Pike nature that he
made a very liberal offer, and after
ward said he would have paid hand
somely for the chance.
A few days later and the remaining
Pikes at the Kend experienced the
greatest scare that ever visited their
souls. A brlk man came into the
Bend with a tripod on his shoulder and
a wire chain ami some wire pins, and
a queer machine under his arm. ami
before dark the Pikes understood that
.Sam had deliberately constituted him
self a renegade by entering a quarter
section of land. Next morning two
more residences were empty, and the
remaining farmers of the hamlet
adorned' not Sam's log. but wandered
about w ith faces vacant of all expres
sion, save t lie agony of the patriot who
sees his home invaded by corrupting
iiillueuccss too powerful for him to
resist.
Tlien Merrick sent up a plow-gang
and eight horses, and the tender green
of Sam's quarter section was rapidly
changed to a dull brown color, which
is odious unto the eye of the Pike.
1 lay after day the brown spot grew
larger, and one morning Sam arose to
linil ad his neighbors departed, having
wreaked their vengeance npou him by
taking away his dogs, And in his de
light at their disappearance Sain freely
forgave them all.
Regularly the children were carried
to and from school, and even to Sun
day school. Regularly every evening
Sam visited the grave on the hillside,
and came hack fo lie by the hour
watching the sleeping darlings. Little
by little farmers liegan to realize that
their property was undisturbed. Lit
tle by little Sam's wheat grew and
waxed golden, and then there came it
day when a man from 'Frisco came
and changed it into heavier gold more
gold than Sam had ever seen before.
And tlie farmers began to step in to
see ham, and their children came to
see his, kind women were unusually
kind to the orphans; and, as day by
day Sam took his solitary walk on the
hillside, the load on his heart grew
lighter, uiftil lie ceased to tear file day
when he, too. should lie there. Cali
fornia Exdtnnge.
THI.VJS TO REMOUtDR.
Indian Buead. Take one quart
flour, one quart meal, one quart but
termilk, one cup molasse one egg,
saleratns and salt.
KekPISG CIDER Sweet. Heat the
cider until it boils, pour into the bot
tles, which have been previously heated
to prevent cracking. Cork tight, and
seal immediately, as in canning fruit.
The cider will keep unchanged for
years:
To PRESEHVB GiiAi'ES. Procure
some tin cases of any convenient size,
and put in a layer of dry sand or char
coal, and then a bunch of grapes, until
the case is full; seal down the lid and
make all air firht, and hurv them to
any convenient depth in the ground.
Ego Plant. Pare the fruit, cut it
intoslicvs a third of tin inch thick,
slightly salt the pieces and stack them
upon a plate. In ail hour or two they
will have lost considerable water.
They are then to be dipped hi beaten
egg," sprinkled with cracker crumbs
and fried. Serve very hot.
Celeky SacCK. rick and
was
vo beads c
leces wi inc
pieces m men long, ami stew ttiem in
a pint of water and a teaspoonftri of
silt, until the celery is tender. Rub a
large tablespoonful of butter with a
spoonful of flour, well together; stir
this into a pint of cream, and put in
tlie celery and let it boil up once.
Serve hot, with boiled poultry.
Oatmeai. Pudding Baked One
pint of oatmeal mush, one quart of
milk, four spoons of sugar, rue cup of
bread crumb-! rubbed flue, one cup of
fruit currants, dried apples, peaches,
or any fruit you have convenient.
Stew the fruit before putting into the
pudding; one egg, one spoonful of good
yeast, and spice to suit your taste.
Bake or steam one iiour.
SPOXGE Cake. Six eggs, one coffee
cup and a half of white sugar, and tlie
same of flour. It is best to whip tlie
w hites separately, then after tlie yolks
and sugar are well beaten together,
add the flour and whites of eggs, a
spoonful of each at a time. Beat a
minute or more between each spoon
ful. Flavor to suit the taste ; bake in
rather hot oven.
To Keep Sausage Meat. As soon
as convenient after milking sausage.
cut in snces or make m cakes and try
till done. Take a stone jar. place your
cakes closely in the jar and pour over
the fryings. If not sufficient to cover
to the' depth of two inches when done,
ino fresh lard. Keep the sausage In a
cool place. W hen wanted for use, re
move the lard, take out what yon want
and return the lard, to keep the air
from what remains. This will keep
till August. 1 have never tried to keep
it any longer.
Mrr.K Buead. Mix a teaspoonful
of salt with three and a half pounds of
flour. Dissolve one ounce of yeast in
a pint and a half of skimmed milk
made lukewarm. Proceed exactly as
for household bread. When ready tor
the oven divide the dough into three
loaves, set them on a well-floured baking-sheet,
and bake for an hour in a
hot oven. When taken out, care
should be taken not to put the loaves
down flat, or the crust will be soddened
with the steam
Albany A Kantlani-Canal.
Friend VanCeeve: Notfhavfng
seen anything for some time in rela
tion to tlie Santiam Canal, I op you
a tew lines. Tlie Canal Is connected
from the Santiam river to .fas. Elkinsr
barn, one mile south of Albany, includ
ing all the first contracts. B. B. Tur
iey is through on sections 1st, 2d- atnf
Itli ; 0. Fry on sections (itli, 7th and
Sth, all to trimming up he will have
finished entirely by Wednesday. My
force has been on the Albany contract
since the 18th ihst T will work to
morrow (25th) forty teams anti-seventy
men, besides thirty-six Celestials at
trimmers. Now you can safely say
through your columns that the 'Albany
& Santiam Canal will be ready to re
ceive water fit ten days from this
vrrting, if clear weather continues so
long, and I hope some energetic indi-
idual or Company will at once take
.dvaubigc of the opportunity thus af
uirdcd for cheap water-power, and at
once commence the erection of manu
factories. There are any number ot
line water privileges along the line of
the Canal, and the Canal Company
offer most advantageous terms to any
one w ho will engage in any of the va
rious industries that can be conducted,
with profit in this county. Linn coun
ty. it is well known embraces within
its boundaries the largest and richest
body of agricultural lands in the State
It produces annually over a million
bushels of wheat, besides oats,, barley,
flax seed, wool, etc., but she sadly
needs manufactories to work up the
vast quantities of raw material at home,
which now is compelled to find a mar
ket somewhere else. , .
A large mill for the mannWture of
lumber would doubtless pay a large
dividend on the money Invested logs
being easily obtained, in unlimited
numbers, and brought to the mill
through tlie Canal.
It is believed that wheatand the other
products of the county will be brought
to Albany by means of the Canal, in
the course of time, doing away almost
entirely w ith teaming as suitable ves
sels win be built, capable of currying
from ten to thirty tons of grain, which
call-be towed by from one to- three
horses, making the trip betwesn Leb
anon and this city in four hours, sav
ing in the first instance, eight hours
hard pulling, and the labor of at least
eight animals. Some assert that small
learners w ill be able to navigate tlie
i anal, but my opinion is that tow
l oats are what will be needed. Ami
as I have said before, the freighting of
! lie portion ot tlie county reached by
the Canal, will be done in this manner,
and at one-half the cost of teaming.
As there is quite a fall at Elkins' barn,
locks are to fie built at that point.
If the above lines will serve tointer
est, your readers, yon may publish.
Truly Yours, A. B. M.
Albany, Nov. 24, 1873.
At the late meeting of the British
Association, in the Economic section.
Mrs. King read an importmit paper
discussing the grRit"scrvantqucstion."
Her views are novel and revolutiona
ry enough to satisfy tlie most radical
reformer." and she does not pro
pose, like so many reformers, tc over
throw thu present methods without
offering a substitute. She wants to
lielp both employer and employed,
especially the latter ; and her idea for
the purpose is that the middle class in
towns should give up separate resi
dences, "which are failures," and
lodge in huge cooperative clubs, or
mansions, or notels. where all service
should be performed by women com
ing In three relays the llrst to dean
up. the. second to cook, and the third
to lie guardians during the night.
That would, she says, in the end, be
cheaer than present methods ; ser
vants living at home would have tiuw
for self-culture, and the mistren8S
would be much relieved front labor.
Indeed, Mrs. King does not want the
"better classes" even to understand"
domestic management, saying tlwl
servants will never be good while their
employers meddle iu the work.