Corvallis gazette., April 14, 1903, Image 1

W 0 Lan. 10 22 fj
GAZETTE
SEMI-WEEKLY.
SKWiirSi.. j Consolidated Feb., 1899.
CORVALXIS, BENTON COUNTY, OREGON, TUESDAY, APRIIi 14, 1903.
VOIi. III. NO. 51.
i '
A Tals of tlis Early Settlers
of Louisiana.
BY AUSTIN C. OURDICIC
CHAPTER XV. (Continued.)
"Why, really, gentlemen," s.iii Simon,,
after be had picked the paped up, "one
would think there was something surpris
ing in a simple marriage. And you, sir,"
he added, turning to the marquis, "I
should not suppose that you would won
der at this, especially seeing that you
yourself gave me permission to seek
Louise for my wife."
"I did not!" groaned the old man. "O,
I never gave It"
"You told me distinctly that I might
ask Louise for her hand, and that if she
consented you should bid her follow her
own choice." r.
"But that was after you had fairly
hunted me down with questions after I
had refused to listen to you on the sub
ject. But my child never freely gave her
consent to this. She could not have done
so. O, Simon, you haveforced her to
this! You have But the poor man s
emotions were too powerful, and his
speech failed him. A moment more Le
gazed into the villain's dark featuves, and
then he bowed his head and burst in o
tears.. He sobbed as though his noble
heart would break.
"Ha, ha, ha! you didn't want me for a
son-in-law, then," the scoundrel uttered,
in a coarse tone; "for," he added, turning
a defiant look upon Goupart, "you me9nt,
no doubt, to have had a more beautiful
husband for her."
You will be careful how you use your
tongue in my presence," spoke Goupart,
in a hushed tone, the very breathing of
which told that there was a smothering
volcano near at hand. -
"Ho ho, monsieur!" the fellow replied;
"you hoped to stick your fingers into the
old mans gold pots, eh? I understand
the reason of your coming here very well.
But rest assured you won't handle the
money through the daughter's pockets."
"Hush, Simon Lobois! I am mo ve j
now more deeply than I can bear, so be
carerui tnat you move me no more, it is
enough that you have crushed this old
man's heart, and overturned his life cup."
"Ho ho! thou art wondrous sensitive,
Monsieur St. Denis.. You have lost the
prize, eh? I suppose if you had married
the daughter, 'twould have been all right.
But you're a little behind the coach this
time. However, if you remain here long
enough, you shall see the bride.".
"Villain!" gasped the marquis, in a
frantic tone. "O, would you had, killed
me ere you had done this thingr
"But, monsieur, what do you mean? If
the girl chose to marry me, what can
you object?"
"She did not choose so to do. O, she
never consented to wed with such as you
of her own free will."
"Such as me!" hissed Lobois. "And so
you would spurn me now, eh? You have
found a new flame in your dotage have
you? Monsieur St. Denis, I give you. joy
of the friend you have gained; but I
can't give you up the wife. You did it
well, but I'm afraid you'll have to . work
Bome other way for a living now, unless,
indeed, monsieur le marquis may take
pity enough on you to give you a few
crowns just to find you in bread and salt
until you can-get your eyes upon some
other heiress!" - .
This was spoken in a coarse, sneeiing
manner, and during its delivery Lobois
had kept his eye fixed upon the youth
with a look of fiendish exultation.
Goupart St. Denis could not have mov
ed more quickly. Not in all the language
Of all the world could words have been
found more: insulting. With one bound
he was by the dastard's side, and on the
'next instant be dealt him a blow upon
the face that felled him to the floor like
a log.'
"O, St. Julien, I could not help it! For
give me!"
"Goupart, I do not blame you!"
For some momenta Lobois lay upon the
floor like one dead, and the youth was
beginning to fear that the blow might
have been fatal, when the villain moved,
and shortly afterwards he arose to his
feet. He gazed a moment upon his ene
my with a deadly look, and thin, as he
noticed that the blood was trickling down
his face upon the floor, he turned towards
the door.
"Goupart St. Denis, thou shalt answer
for this!"..
And, thus speaking, the villain left the
room.
CHAPTER XVI.
That evening Brion St. Ju'it n and Gou
part conversed long and earnestly togeth
er. For some time the youth had enter
tained the thought of proceeding at on e
to .New Orleans and seeking Louise, but
finally be resolved to wait awhile, at
least until he had one more interview
with Lobois.
"That Lobois was the cause of her be
ing abducted I have no longer any doubt,"
aid the marquis, after some remarks
bad been made upon the subject.
"How can there be a doubt?" returned
Goupart. "His story of the rescue of
the poor girl is too improbable for beiief,
unless he had some understanding with
the Indians."
"Rnt An nr4- fltTnlr that- Yi .7
LI 1, UV J VU UUb IUUI, IUUUU
ber as he says?" inquired the marquis,
earnestly. .
"Of course I do. He found ber as he
says; but, of course, the Indians under
stood that he was to meet them there.
He took her there, and he must have
used some terrible power to make her
marry him."
St Denis went to his chamber, and
went to his bed; but be could not sleep.
He lay with bis hands clasped over his
brow, and ever and anon deep, painful
groans would break from bis lips. His
grief was deeper than he could tell, even
in his wildest prayers, and bis hopes were
all gone. ' The thing had come upon him
with a doubly crushing force, for it had
found his soul already bowed down be
neath the weight of fear. He could bare
known that Louise had died, for then be
might have wept awhile, and then calm
ly knelt down and prayed.- But nowev.en'
that sad and melancholy boon was de
nied him. Like the frantic mother who
stands and sew the eagle perched upon
the cliff with her shrieking infant, stood
the youth with respect to bis beloved.'
But, at length, when the first hours a
ter midnight had come, Goupart sank into
a duD, dreamy slumber, .and bis pains
were for awhile only the phantoms of
sleep. 1
While Goupart thus lay pondering upon
his terrible misfortune, Simon Lobois
was not alone. He was in the chamber
be usually occupied, and with him was
a black slave named Peter. He was a
middle-acred man Simon's special ser
vant, Hfxd the only one in the whole
household who had any sympathy for
the dark nephew. Lobois had purchas
e"ll him in New Orleans, and though he
had done so only as the marquis' agent,
yet Peter looked upon the former as his
master. And, moreover, Simon had paid
him various sums of money to serve him,
"Now, Peter," said Simon, after some
other conversation had passed, "have yon
watched the affair between Goupart and
the marquis, as I bade you?"
"Yes, mas'r; me watch 'um well, .an'
me hear all. Me foun' de hole you tole
me of in de floor ober de ole mas'r's 11
brary, an' me hab watch 'um ebery time
I's got a chance."
"And what have you found?"
Peter went en and told a long story
he had heard about letting Simon go,
and about Goupart taking his place.
"And," uttered the negro, with a spark
ling eye as he gave a sort of flourishing
emphasis to the conjunction, "me'a heard
one oder ting, berry sartin'; One time
dey feared young mas'r an' missus'd neb-
ber cum back, an' ole mas'r's gwine to
gib Goupart all his whole fortiu'. He'll
hab heaps o' money, eh?
"Did he say the whole, Peter?"
"He did sartin,-mas'r. An' he's plan
ned to gib 'im haff of it now. O, I tell
ye, mas'r Goupart got.mitey big hold
pnto ole mas'r's pocket, an' onto ole
mas'r's lub, too. Dey's togedder all de
time. Yah guess ole mas'r don't a'pect
he'll want'you no more."
It was late in the morning when Simon
Lobois made his appearance. He had
his breakfast served in his own room,
and for some time he bad been engaged
in bathing his face. He walked on to the
sitting "room, and be found the marquis
and Goupart there.
"Monsieur St. Denis," he said, in a low,
icy tone, "I would speak with you."
In an instant the young man turned
and followed him. Lobois led the way
to the garden, and there he stopped and
turned.
"Monsieur St. Denis," he spoke, while
his eyesflashed and his thin lip trembled,
"last night you did what no living men
has ever done before. You struck me in
the face. Ere I leave this place, the
stricken man must be past remembrance
of his shame, or the striker must be not
among the living! You understand!"
Now, Goupart was not in a frame of
mind to endure much,- or to argue much
on moral points. His heart was aching
from a horrid wound, and his soul was
tortured by a fearful power; and before
him was the serpent who had done it all,
who .had tom-Ued --ehiUkw-f rom -' &o$
ing parent sundered the"brother and sis
ter, and made unhappy the life of a de
fenseless girl. The young man's eyes
did not flash like his enemy's, but they
burned with a deep, calm fire, such as
utter disgust and abomination add to
fierce hate.
"I think I understand," was St. Denis
reply.
"I taught you your first lessons In the
sword exercise, and you were a profident
when I last saw you handle the blade.
Will you now choose that weapon?"
"Yes."
' "Then get it and join me at once."
Gonupart turned away and went to his
room. He took, down his sword, and
buckled the belt about him. ' Then he
drew the blade, and for a moment- be
gazed upon it. It bad once been an un
cle's weapon the well-tried companion
of Gen. St. Denis, a bold and true, knight.
It was of Spanish make, and never yet
had it failed in the hour of need. There
was another sword in the room a lighter
one a Damascus blade, apd of exquisite
finish, and one, too, with which the youth
had always played. But it had been his
father's sword, and he would not use it
now. After be had returned the blade
to its scabbard, he stopped a moment to
reflect. Then he moved -to the table,
where an ink horn stoodV and tearing a
leaf from bis pocketbook, be hurriedly
wrote as follows:
"Monsieur le Marquis You are my
friend, and you know the few fiienjs I
have on earth. If I fall to-day, you will
know why, and I know' you will not
blame me. You wl.l see Louise. Tell
her we shall meet "
The youth stopped and started up, and
his hand trembled.
"If I fall thus, shall we meet. there?"
he murmured to himself. "O, heaven
will pardon the- deed. It knows the deep
provocation the . burning shame that
blights this house!"
Then he stooped once more and wrote:
" in that world where love knows no
night. ST. DENIS."
This the youth folded and directed to
Brion St. Julien,' and wiping a single
tear from bis cheek, he hurried down to
the hall, an'd from thence to the garden,
where he found Simon waiting for him.
"Now follow me," said Lobois; and
thus speaking, he led. the way around the
house towards the barn, and thence out
through the postern to the foot of ' the
bill beyond, where grew a thick clump of
hickory trees. .
-'Now, Goupart St. Denis, are you
ready?" asked Simon, at the same time
drawing his sword.
"In one moment," returned the youth,
also drawing his own weapon, but lower
ing its point upon the ground.
He was stopped short in his speech, for
at that moment the marqais came rush
ing .out from the court, ana soon reached
the spot where they stood.
"Simon," he gasped, white with fear,
"what means this? Put up your sword."
"Brion St. Julien," quickly retorted the
mad nephew, "stand back! You saw
what passed last night did you not?"
"But that was tfie result of hot pas
sion. You taunted him most bitterly, Si
mon; you insulted bim most shamefully,
and he knew not what he did. O, let this
thing stop!"
"Stop? You might as well try to stop
yonder mighty river from flowing to its
mouth! You aay I gave him provocation.
Did he not give me provocation?"
"Yes yes. It was all folly all eager,
hot, mad haste. O, give over this thing!
Simon, I command your
"Brion St. Julien, look upon this mark
on my face! Were the man who did that
my own brother, be should stand before
my sword. So now stand back. There
shall be a death to wipe this oat. If I
fall, 'twill die with me; if be falls, the
atonement Is complete."
- "Good Sir Brion," spoke Goupart, at
this point, "let the conflict go on. Life
to me now Is not worth the price I would
pay for it by refusal. Let it go on."
i "But my child my son, if you are
gone "
"You'll have me left," Interrupted Si
mon "me, who of right belongs here.
Now are you' ready; Monsieur St. Denis?"
The youth turned an imploring look up
on the marquis, and as the old man fell
back, he replied:
"Now I must ask the question I was
about to ask ere our friend came to in
terrupt us. Simon Lobois, you may fall
in this encounter, and before I cross your
sword, I would pray you to tell, if you
know, where Louis St. Julien is."
"How?" hissed Simon. "Would ye
heap more insult upon me?"
"I ask but a simple question.
"Ay and that question means a foul
suspicion. I know nothing of him.
"Then come on!"
And on the next instant the swords
were crossed.
Simon Lobois had been accounted one
of the best sword players in Marne, and
he came to the conflict as though he were
sure of victory: but at the third pass he
was undeceived. He turned pale in a mo
ment, for he now knew that he had met
with-a superior, even in fencing sum,
He was a coward at heart, and be fairly
trembled.' Goupart saw it in an instant.
and for the moment he was astonishea,
But then be remembered bow Simon used
to tremble at the whiz of a pistol ball,
nnd 'ha wondered no more. Almost did
he Ditv the poor wretch. Straight, pow
erful and tall he stood, with his broad
chest expanded, while before him fairly
cowered the diminutive form or tne vil
lain.' "Ah, Simon, I've taught the sword art
since you left me In France! Take care!
Poor wretch, I gave you credit for more
skill, and for more courage.
In all probability, the villain believed
that Goupart meant to kill him if he
could. That belief begot a feeling of de
spair, and that last taunt fired him. Like
the cornered rat, he set to now with all
the energy of a dying man, and for a
few moments St. Denis had to look
sharp; but It was only for a few mo
ments. Simon made a point-blank thrust
from a left guard, and with, a quick
movement to the right, Goupart brought
a downward stroke with all his available
force, only meaning to break, his antag
onist's sword, or strike it from his grasp,
and thus end the conflict without blood
shed. But Simon had thrust his arm
further forward than Goupart had calcu
lated, and the blow fell upon the sword
hand, the" guard receiving part of the
force, thus causing a slanting stroke.
With a Quick cry of pain, Simon dropped
his weapon and started back.
"Don't strike me now!" he cried.
"Fear not," replied Goupart. "1 never
strike a defenseless man. But are you
satisfied?" -.
"Yes yes! But that was a cowardly
:"No no, Lohois,
I meant not to strike
you then; I only meant to knock your
sword down. But you know you have
been at my mercy thrice." '
"It was your own fault that you did not
take advantage of it. I should have kill
ed you had I been able, and I think you
would have done the same."
"No!" cried the marquis; "you know
better than that, Simon."
But the wounded man made no further
reply. His hand pained him now, and be
held it out towards the marquis with a
beseeching look. The old man examined
it, and found that a bad gash was cut
from the roots of the thumb to the wrist,
on the back of the hand, but none of the
bones were harmed. Had not the guard
of the sword received .the weight of .the
blow, the hand would have been severed
wholly off, for the stout iron guard was
found cut nearly in twain!
And thus ended the duel. Goupart was
surprised at the easy victory be had won,
while Simon was surprised at the incredi
ble skill his antagonist bad displayed.
And the marquis was thankful deeply
thankful for the result, so far as mere
life and death were concerned. ,
(To be continued.)
Quality Folks.
Since bacteriologists have attributed
the dissemination of yellow fever In
Cuba, and of the deadly malaria in It
aly, to the mosquito, that creature has
emerged from the general host of In
sects Into a place of individual import
ance. For other reasons than these,
however, an old Cornish woman lately
pronounced upon the mosquito's aristocracy-.-
She - had asked her parish
priest to read her a letter from her son
In Brazil. The writer's orthography
was doubtful, but the vicar did his best
to read phonetically. .
"I cannot tell you how the muskittles
torment me. They pursue me every
where even down the chimney!"
The fond mother's eyes grew large
with mingled pride and amazement.
;"EzekIel must ,be rare handsome,"
she said, "for the maidens to be so
after him. And I reckon the Miss Kit
ties Is quality folks, too!"
; Willie's Perplexity.'
When Willie came home last night he
was more convinced of the uselessness j
of schools than he ever was before.
says the Buffalo Express. Asked the
nature of , his latest trouble, be ex
plained that "postpone" had been one
of the words In the spelling lesson of
the day. The teached had directed the
pupils to write a sentence In which the
special word should appear.
Along with others, Willie announced
that he did not know the meaning of
the word; and so could not use it In a :
sentence. ' The teacher explained that it :
meant "delay" or "put off," and, en- '
couraged the youngsters to try. Wil
lie's thoughts were on pleasanter ;
things than school, and his made-to-or- 1
der sentence was: . j
"Boys postpone their clothes when
they go in swimming:"
. Col leae Cola ra.
"Our college colors are pink and old
gold," said Miss Frocks. . .4
"Our college colors were black and
blue when I was Initiated Into the se
cret society," added her brother. , - i
Surmounted difficulties not only
teach, but hearten us in our- future
struggles. Sharp.
A Home-Made Fodder Cutter.
No one will question the value of cut
fodder for stock, and - especially for
horses, although many farmers will not
use it because of the labor Involved in
preparing It The home-made cutter
shown here will do quite as good work
as the more expensive machines, and Jt
really does not take much time to pre
pare quite a lot of fodder. To make this
machine, two boards, each one foot
wide and five feet long, are required.
Nail these together In V-shape, as
shown, then make the legs of pieces
three feet long, nailing a strip across
each, as shown, to keep them from
spreading. Have the blacksmith make
a cutting blade; It may be formed from
an old scythe, as shown In the llhistra
Hon, arranging It so that a place Is re
served for the handle and that the cut
ting portion Is about two and one-half
feet Bolt a piece of Iron at one end
to one leg six Inches below the box
and bolt one end of the scythe to the
other end ef the iron, arranging them
HOlfK-HADE FODDKB CtTTTEB.
so that both will work easily.! Lay a
strip of iron against the top of the other
leg, with space for the scythe to work
in easily, as shown In the cut The
downward slanting motion of the
scythe when in use will cut the fodder
readily if the blade is kept sharp as It
should be. Indiauap lis News.
A Farm Electric Light Svatern.
'.. A well-known farmer in eastern New
York State, J. T. McDonald.! reports
favorably "of bis experience with a
farm electric-lighting " plant He put
iii a. uiiy.-iigni aynamo costing $vsuu
and paid out about $100 moreJfbr wlr-
through his farm which supplies the
power. There are sixteen tights In the
stables, and the' house is lighted
throughout whenever desired by turn
ing on the switch. The power of the
current is regulated by an indicator in
the kitchen, and ail the trouble neces
sary is to watch the indicator and
change the voltage fo correspond with
the number of lights that- have been
turned on or off. The twowires are
drawn tightly on a sweep, and so ar
ranged, with a gear wheel that the
water gate may be easily managed,, it
being very sensitive to the slightest
change in the voltage, and' very easily
controlled without leaving the kitchen.
Mr. McDonald says the convenience
cannot be realized without trial, and
no other Investment which he has
made has pleased bim so well. For
those who have not a brook to furnish
power, an apparatus has recently been
Invented, costing about $300 all up and
wired ready for use. It Is a combined
gasolene motor and generator; and is
Baid to prove quite satisfactory.
American Cultivator.
Proper Stabling; for Horse.
The Farm Journal gives some points
of value to be observed In caring for
man's best friend on the farm: The use
and value of farm horses are often
seriously impaired by lack of proper
stabling. They are crowded In filthy.
ill-ventilated stables, the air 'so bad
from the damp urine-soaked floors 'that
the harness is rotted by It The eyes
and luiurs and general health' are In
jure, and disease of some kind is sure
to follow. A side light strains the eye
unequally. The light should come In
the stable from the front and the win
dows should be lime washed to mellow
the light- A. stable should never be
dark. The stable should be well ven
tilated, but so carefully that no draft
can possibly touch a warm horse. A
draft qb a horse warm from work or
driving will be sure to ruin him. Do
not feed from a rack overhead, as the.
dust from the hay Is apt to be breathed
and Is not good for the lungs. A deep
manger is best A wide manger for
the grain Is best so the grain can be
scattered to prevent bolting. The stalls
should be five feet wide. A horse can
net rest In a narrower one, and in a
wider one he might roll and get fast
Look out that the slight settling of the
barn does not cause the stall floors to
slope toward the mangers.
1 Starting; a Balky Horse.
. When a horse balks, no matter bow
badly he sulks or how ugly he Is, do
not beat him; dont throw sand In his
ears; don't use a rope around bis fore
legs or even burn straw under bim.
Quietly go and pat him on the head a
moment Take a ' hammer, or : even
pick up a stone In the street tell the
driver to sit still, take the lines, hold
them quietly while you lift up either
front foot give each nail a light, tap
and a good smart tap on the frog, drop
the foot quickly and then chirp to hlmJ
to go. in ninety-nine cases out or loo
the horse will go right on about his
business, but the driver must keep his
lines taught and not pull or jerk him
back.4 - :'-- " ' ''
If I have tried this once I have tried
It 500 times, ' and every time I have
suggested It people have laughed and
en bet $5 bottles of wine that I
could not do It So far I have won
every bet This may make you smile.
but a horse has more common sense
than most people are willing to give
him credit for. The secret of this lit
tle trick Is simply diversion. I am a
firm believer that with kindness and
proper treatment a horse can be driven
with a string. Missouri Valley Farm
er. ' .'-
Poaaible Yield of Bolt
A recent publication by' Prince Kra
potkin, the Russian economist recites
some of the effects of intensive culture
In the possible yields. Thus in 'Bel
glum they grow enough agricultural
products to feed their own population
of 400 inhabitants to the square mile,
and have enough left to send $5,000,
000 worth each year to Great Britain.
If we could do as well In our fields, the
State of New York might furnish food
for 23,000,000 people, and Texas could
feed twice the present population of
the United States. The prince tells of
Instances 'where eighteen tons of hay a
year have been gathered from a single
f acre, and an acre has produced 1,500
to 2,000 bushels of potatoes. But this
is as nothing compared , to the crops
under glass in Belgium and the Isle of
Jersey, where the land is kept under
cultivation all the year, one crop being
ready to succeed another without any
Interval. By this method be claims
that thirteen acres under glass in Jer
sey have produced better money re
turns than 1.300 acres under ordinary
methods of farm cultivation. This must
be a satisfaction to those who are wor
rying from a fear that the world will
not produce enough to feed the grand
children of the present generation.
Exchange.
Fertilizing; theCorn Land.
At the Purdue corn school, the great
emphasis was placed upon fertilizing
the corn land at least one year before
the field is given to corn. An old clover
sod that has received manure the pre
vious .year was regarded as an Ideal
soli 'on which to grow corn.; Corn
growers considered it quite a risk to
haul manure on land intended for corn
later than Jan. 1. After that date the
surplus manure should go to the grow
ing grain crop, as wheat or rye, to the
clover fields or to the pasture land. .
If placed on corn land it may cause the
plants to fire In a dry time, the pres
ence ef the manure thus acting to pro
duce an appreciable loss. Take this
valuable fertilizer to where It may
feed plants, but not where it Is likely
to check their growth by - drying the
soil and depriving the crop of its mois
ture. St Paul Dispatch. -
WfcitCjJVarsHdptt,
White Wyandotte prize winner at the
Chicago poultry show. Owned by A.
W. Davis. Big Rock, I1L
Cow and the Dairy.
No cow can get more out of her food
than nature has put into It
Ten cows are about as many as a
man can milk properly in an hour. .
Keep the stable and dairy room In
good condition, fresh air and clean. .
All persons who milk the cows
should have the finger nails eut closely.
Milk with dry hands. Never allow
the bands to come In contact with .the
milk.; , ; '
Whitewash the' stable once or twice
a year. Use land plaster in the manure
gutters dally.
Do not move cows faster than a' com
fortable walk while on the way to
place of milking or feeding.
Good care is as important as good
cows, xne careless man win maice out
a sorry living even with the best of
cows. ' "
A large udder is not by any means an
Infallible sign of a good milker. A poor
cow may sometimes have a large,
fleshy' udder.
It Is seldom we find a man that has
a good milch cow and wants to sell
her, provided he knows a good milch
cow when he sees It
By Intelligent breeding you can In a
few years weed out poor stock and
have a good herd. By lack of Intelli
gence In breeding you can In less time
ruin a good herd. '
.
' . Farm Notes.
Heifer calves that are to be kept for
the dairy should receive very little corn,
as this is apt to develop the tendency to
take on flesh too strongly. Steer calves
and those which it Is expected to fat
ten may have all the corn they will eat
Three factors to be kept constantly in
mind In raising the calf on skim, milk
are: First, the calf should not have too
much milk at any time; second, the
milk should at all times be sweet; third,
the milf should never be fed cold.
The Wisconsin Farmer says: ' Wo
have all had more or less experience
scooping snow 'from walks and from
about the barns. Sometimes the snow
will stick to the shovel and make it
difficult to scoop. To avoid this the
shovel should be greased with a bit of
tallow to prevent sticking. This is
worth a triaL
rlH IK
The Poor Hottentot.
This poor unfortunate Hottentot
He was not content with bis Iottentot;
Quoth he, "For my dinner,
As I am a sinner.
There's nothing t6 put in the pottentotf
This poor unfortunate Hottentot
Cried: "Yield to starvation I'll nottentot;
- I'll get me a cantaloup.
Or else a young antelope.
One who'll enjoy being shottentot"
This poor unfortunate Hottentot .
Hos bow and- his arrows he gotten tot;
And being stout-hearted.
At once he departed,
And struck thorugh the bush at a trot
tentot This poor unfortunate Hottentot
When several miles from his cottentot
He chanced to set eyes on
A snake that was p'lson,
A-tying itself in a knottentot .
Then this poor unfortunate Hottentot
Remarked: "This for me is no spottentot!
I'd better be going;
There's really no knowing
If he's trying to eharm me, or whatton
tot!" This poor unfortunate Hottentot
Was turning to flee to his grottentot
When a lioness met him.
And suddenly "et" him,
As a penny's engulfed by the slottentot
Moral:
This poor unfortunate Hottentot
Had better have borne with his Iottentot,
And grown even thinner
For lack of a dinner.
But I should have had, then, no plottea-
tot!
St Nicholas.
How To Tall the Time.
I've jus learned how to tell the time.
My mother teached me to.
An' ef you think you'd like to learn.
I guess I might teach you; --.
At first, though, it's as hard as fun,
An' makes you twist and turn,
An' mother says that they is folks,
Big folks what never learn.
You stand before the clock, jus, so.
An' start right at the top;
That's twelve o'clock, an' when you
The. lirfl KJiM -on kton;
rf . , .
Now, that's the Imur, but you ve got
To watch what you're about,
Because the hardest part is to come.
To find the minutes out
You go right back again to where
You started from; an' see
How far the minute-hand's away,
Like this you're watchin me?
An' when you've found the minute-hand
You multiply by five .
And then you've got the time of day
v As sure as you're alive. '
They's folks, I know, what says that
r they .
' Don't have to count that way.
That they can tell by jus' a glance
At any time o' day;
But I don't b'lieve no fibs like that
Because ef that was true.
My Ma would know it, but she showed
Me like I'm showin' you.
Leslie's Monthly. . .. ' !
me Magic Pill Box. I
Take a small, round pill box and a j
coin that exactly fits into It Cover
one side of the coin with paper of ex
actly the color of the inside of the
box. ' Now show the coin to the au
dience, being careful to show them
only the face that is not covered Now
drop it into the box with the covered
A CXKVEB LITTLE THICK.
face up. Put the cover on the box
and show the audience that the coin
has disappeared. Put the lid on the
box again, make a few passes, open
the box and let the. coin fall out Into
your hand, with its uncovered, face
up. When you show It to the audience
they will be mystified.
The Man Who Wit "Ooias; To."
In the first place, he was a boy who
was always "going to," but who rare
ly did any of the things he was "go
ing to do." He was for a time a pupil
of a school I taught and I boarded at
his father's house a part of one win
ter. That was nearly twenty-five years
ago, so the boy has been a man for
some years. When I was staying at
his home, his mother would say, "Rob
ert have you filled the woodbox yet?"
"No, ma'am; but I'm going to," he
would reply.
Or his father would ask, . "Robert
have you fed the horse yet?"
"No, sir; but I'm going to," Robert
vould reply. .
Sometimes I would say to Robert In
school. "Have you got your arithmetic
esson yet?" .
' "No. sir; but I'm going to," he would
-pply. ' . ': ,- ;, ':
But whf-n."he time came for the class
o i-fieitc, tbi: 1e.soB would still be uh-
. . .
I ! 1 1 ! 1 lilt H I I 1 I I .
Little Stories and t
Incidents that Will : :
Interest and Enter-
tain Voting Readers
rll nHHfHI 1 H H
learned. At the last minute Robert
would take his arithmetic and slate,
and try to solve his problem In less
time than was possible for even the
brightest boy In the class.
It Is many years since I saw Rob
ert, but I heard from him the other
day. A friend was good enough to
write me a long letter, telling me about
many of the boys and girls who went
to school to me. About Robert he said:
"You no doubt remember Robert
He Is still 'going to do' all sorts of
things. I went by his home yesterday.
It is a sorry-looking place. The front
gate has been separated from its
hinges for about five years, yet I have
beard Robert say many times that he
was 'going to fix that gate.' The pump
at his well became disabled more than
a year ago, and Robert has been 'go
ing to fix it' every day. durlnsr that
time, but It is not done. In the mean
time his family must carry water
from the well of a neighbor, a fifth of
a mile distant Two -ears siro 'the
drainage pipe on Robert's place became
cioggea up, and Robert was 'eoinir to
fix It for more than a year. When It
rained, the water stood a foot deep all
over the cellar, and Robert came very
near losing two of his children because
or illness traceable to this cause. The
worst of it is that Robert has fallen
Into the habit of borrowing money that
he Is 'going to repay,' but somehow
never does. They speak of him as
'the man who Is going to.' Poor Rob
ert! His life has been made a dreary
failure by the reprehensible habit of
procrastination." Forward.
The Antiquity of the "Score.'
Twenty is called a score because it
represents the whole man, ten fingers.
and ten toes. Etymologically, it means
a cut or mark. In very early times.
when men could not count beyond
twenty, or "one man," it was usual to
cut a notch In a stick and begin again,
and so it went on, one man, two men,
and so on. This is why sheep are still
counted by the score. Now, a tally
(French taille, cut or nicked) means an
account kept by means of a notched
stick, aid until the end of the eigh
teenth century such-sticks were given
as exchequer receipts accompanied by
a written document This was also
the usual way of keeping accounts In
the nns of the middle ages. The num
ber ef drinks or meals a customer bad.
were scored against him on what was
called a tally-stick, and when it reach
ed twenty, or a "whole man," he was
expected to pay. In some country
Inns, scores are still, kept on a . slate,
four chalk marks and one across
five; and four of these make twenty,
or a score.
.. Ja Air Invisible. " .
If air cannot be seen, what Is it that.
we see quivering above a field on a
hot summer day, or even above a hot
stove In the house? That question has
puzzled many a head, both old and
young. The answer usually given Is
that it is the heat: but heat can not be
seen, and, thereforer It Is not beat.
The explanation of the phenomenon
is really quite simple, like all such
things, when we hear it As a matter
of fact It Is air that we see quivering,
but heat makes is visible. The quiver
ing is caused by the upward passage,
close by each other, of small currents
of air -of different temperatures, in
which the rays of light are irregularly
refracted, and this makes the cur
rents visible.
. To of Animals.
No animal has more than five toes,
digits or claws to each foot or limb.
The horse is one-toed, the ox is two
toed,' the rhinoceros three-toed, . th
hippopotamus four-toed and the ele
phant five-toed. . Carnivorous-animals
never have less than four toes on each
foot' The hyena alone has four on each
foot The dog has four on each bind
foot - :
Ignorant of Bank Checks.
The Berlin correspondent of Com
mercial Intelligence calls attention to
the -antiquated and cumbersome meth
od of forwarding remittances that ob
tains In Germany. , A check system
such as has been developed and per
fected as an Instrument of commerce
In England Is practically unused there,
payments being usually effected by
means of money orders taken out at
the local postoffice. The English bank
exercises the double function of ad
justing accounts and guarding wealth,
whereas the German bank,, under fa
vorable circumstances, scarcely does
more than the latter.
For the German merchant the post
offiee Is, In a sense, what the clearing- .
house of the English banking system
is for the British business man; It
is an active partner in the .settlement
of differences between debtor and
creditor. Yet even under the German
pos.al system, whereby the amount of
a mouey order Is paid at the residence
of the payee by a special, function
ary called the "geldbrleftrager," ' the
postoffice Is clearly an intolerably
clumsy agent for liquidating, accounts
nowadays, and occasionally one bears
a German bemoaning the steam-roller
progress of his fellow- countrymen
in the technics of payment and urging
reform. London Telegraph. .. ' . .
- When a young man gets tobe a so
ciety leader you will usually find bim
afthe tail end of every other proces
sion. .