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About Bohemia nugget. (Cottage Grove, Or.) 1899-1907 | View Entire Issue (Oct. 4, 1905)
1 i 1 I 0 tl.tri HMlim'IM:.!HMMMHlMIIHimHM1M'MimUHIW MS By SIR WALTER UCSANT CHAPTKP. .Will. Continued.) "Nobody ever believed that you were robbed. Mr. Lelghan." 1 went on. "Hut the finding of tli money seems to show thst you rosily were robbed while you were insensible. Perhaps we shall find the paper, too, some day." "Perhaps wo shall." he said. "If they are in the hand of rogues ami villain, I shall be much the better for It. Enough aid about my robbery, it U Strang, too: both on the same day " I knew not then what he meant. "Both on the name i1av and after six Ions year. What can this mean? Will," he said. eagerly, "tell me I never did any harm to you; you've never had any land to mortgage tell me, do you know nothing of the papers? When you found this bag did you hear nothing about the papers?" "1 know nothing. How should 1?" "Well, it matters little; I am not con cerned with the robber, but with the runn who has them now. I must deal with him; and, there, you cannot help m. unless uo no I cannot ask it; you would not help me." "Anyhow, Mr. Leighsn, you're sot twenty pounds back again. That Is something. Confess that you are pleas ed." "Young mr.n. if yon torture a man all over with rheumatic pains, do you think he Is pleased to find that they Lave left his little finger, while they are till red-hot irons all over the -rest of his body? That is my case." "I am sorry to hear it At the same time, twenty pounds, as I ssid before, ii something." "It's been lying Idle for six years. Twenty pounds at compound Interest I don't spend my interest. I promise- you would now be six-and-tweuty pounds. I've lost six pounds." I laughed. A man who knows not the alue of interest laughs easily. I ex pect, therefore, to gj on laughing all the days of my life. "As for the papers, there's a dead loss of one hundred and fifty pounds a year. Think of that.' All these years I've wait ed and hoped yes, I've prayed actual ly prayed that I might get my papers back again. Three thousand pounds theru re, among these papers, besides the cer tificates and things that I could replace Nearly all Mary's fortune lost." "No," I said. "Don't flatter yourself that you lost any of Mary's money. It was your own money. You are trustee for Mary's fortune, remember, and you will have to pay it over in fulL" He winced and groaned. "Three thousand pounds! With the interest It would now be worth nearly Jour thousand pounds at five per cent. And now all as good as lost!" "Well, Mr. Leighsn, I am sorry for you, Tery sorry, particularly as you will hare to find that fortune of Mary's Tery soon." "Shall I, Master Will Nethercote? I shall give Mary her fortune when I please; not at all, unless I please. Mary has got to be obedient and submissive to me, else she won't get anything. When I give my consent to her mar riage, and not till then not till then 1 shall have to deliver up her fortune. Good-night to you, Will Nethercote." CHAPTER XIX. During these days David led the life of a solitary. He sometimes went to the inn; he went to the village shop on the green to buy what he wanted, and he kept wholly to himself. Except for that daily visit to Gratnor, he talked to no one. From time to time I met him leaning over the field g:ites, loitering along the lanes, or sitting idly under the shade of one of our high hedges. I suppose that his loafing and wandering life had made work of any kind distasteful to him. His face was not a pleasant one to gaze upon, and for a stranger would have been ter rifying. At this time we knew from Mary that he went nearly every day to Gratnor, but we bad no suspicion of what was said or done there. My own thoughts, indeed, were wholly occupied with the fortunes of George Sidcote, and I gave small heed to this sulky hermit. "David," I asked htm, meeting him one day face to face so that he could not slip out of my way, "why do you never come over to Sidcote? Have we offended you In any way?" "No," he replied, slowly, as if he was thinking what he ought to reply "no; I don't know exactly that you have of fended me." "Come over this evening and tell us what you think about doing." "No. I don't think I can go over this evening." "Choose your own time, but come be fore I go back to London." "George will be turned out of his place before the end of the year. The old man told me so. Then he'll go, too. Mary says she will go with George. Then I shull be left alone with Uncle Dan." He laughed quietly. "I think I shall go and live at Gratnor, and take care of him. We shull have happy times together, when you are all gone and I am left alone with him." "Why, David, you wouldn't harm the poor old man now, would you?" "Not harm him? Not harm him? Did you ask him six years ago if he was goiug to harm me? Will he barm George Sidcote now?" You cannot force a man to be sociable, nor can you force him to entertain thoughts of charity, forgiveness sud long suffering. I made no more attempts to lead the man back to better ways and old habits. And all the time, every day David was carrying on, slowly and ruthlessly, the most systematic revenge, with the most exquisite tortures. Every day he went to Gratnor and dangled before his vic tim some of his property, and mads him buy it back bit by bit, haggling over the bargain; letting his uncle have It one day cheap, so as to raise his spirits, and the uext at nearly Its full value, so as to crush biui again; and even at times, af ter an hour's bargain over a single, cou 11 sort's Desire Eaj pon. he would put it In the fire and de stroy it. When David went away, the poor old man would fall to weeping; this hard, dry old man. whom nothing ever moved before, would shed tear of Impotent and bitter rage. Hut he rvfused to tell Mary what was troubling him. "1 can't tell you what it is," he said. "You don't know what the consequence might be if I told you. Oh. Mary, I am a miserable old man! I wish I was dead and burled and that It w as all over I wish It was all over!" "It is something," said Mary, "to do with David. I will go and speak to hliu about It." "No, Mary, no;" he cried, eagerly. "Mind your own business, child. IVm't attempt to Interfere. Oh! you don't know what might happen If jxu Inter fered." "It Is David, then. Very well, uncle. I shall not ask him what It Is." "I can't tell anybody, Mary; I must bear it In patience. If I resist I shall only lose the more. Mary, we've got to be very careful In the housekeeping now very careful." "I am always careful, uncle." "There was a pudding again to-day. I can't afford any more pudding for a long while not till Christmas. And I'm sure there's waste and riot In the kitch en." "Nonsense, uncle! Yon not afford a pudding? Now, remember, you are not to be starved, and there's no waste or riot." CHAPTER XX. I terminated my holiday with a med dling and a muddling. Of course, I was actuated by the best intentions. Every meddler and muddler is, otherwise he might be forgiven. I made my attempt with no success on my last evening at Ch alia combe, when the old man had taken his tes, and might reasonably be expected to be milder than during the press of business In the morn ing. I had not seen him for three weeks. I was struck with the change that had come over him during this short period. It was that subtle change which we mean when we say that a man has "aged. In Mr. Leighan's case, his hands trembled, he looked feebler, and there was a loss of vitality in his eyes. "What do you want?" he asked. Im patiently. "You are come for Mary? Well, she Isn't here. You ought to know that she always goes out after tea. You will find her somewhere about on the Ridge or down the lane, somewhere." He turned his head and took up his pen again. I observed that he was poring over a paper of figures. "No, Mr. Lelghan, I came to see you. I have come to see you about George and Mary." "Go on, then. Say what you want to say. ben a man is tied to his chair he is at the mercy of every one who comes to waste his time." I spoke to him ss eloquently as I could. I told him he onght to consider how Mary had been his housekeeper and his nurse for six long years, during which he had been helplessly confined to his chair. If he refused his consent to ber marriage she would go away, not only from his house, but from the parish; he would be left in the hands of strangers, who would waste and spoil his sub stance. "Young man," he said, "I never asked for or expected any other service than what Is paid for. Mary's services have been paid for. If she goes I shall find another person, who will be paid for her Kervices. Mary has had her board and her bed, and she's done ber work to earn her board and her bed; I don't see any call for gratitude there; as for good feel ing, that's my business. Now, young man, George Sidcote's land is mortgaged. As he says he can no longer pay the In terest, I have sent up the caaa to Lon don and have got the usual order; he has six months in which to pay princl- pay and Interest. At the end of that time, because he can't and won't pay, hi land will be mine. As for what Is dons afterward, I promise nothing." "You will lose Msrv for one thing." "I have told you that L in that case. shall hire another person." "Very well. You will have to pay Mary's fortune to ber consin David, be cause she will marry without your con sent." "Have the goodness, Mr. Will Nether cote, to leave me to my own affairs," "This affair Is mine as well as yours. Do you prefer David to Mary? Yon must choose between them, you know. I have read the will. You think," I said, "that David does not know of his aunt's will. Yof hope that he will go away presently without finding out." He start ed and changed color, and In his eyes I read the truth. He thought that David would never find out. "So, Mr. Lelghan," I went on, "that Is In your mind. He lives alone, and speaks to no one; his sunt died after he went away; It is very possible that he does not know anything about it. Good heavens! Mr. Lelghan, were you actually thinking to hide ths thing from him, and so to rob him? Yes; to rob Mary first and David afterward of all this money?" "What business Is It of yours?" he askedl. "Very good; I shall tel David." "Oh! if I were thirty Instead of seven ty I would " he began, his eyes flash ing again with ail their ancient fire. "I shall go to David, Mr. Lelghan. If, as I believe, he knows nothing about It, you will see how he will receive ths news. Yes; you shall be between the two; you shall choose between David and Mary." Yes; I bad stumbled on ths exsct truth as accidentally as I bad stumbUtd on the canvas bag. David did not know, nor had bis unole chosen to inform him though hs was certain from his talk that he did not knowof his aunt's will, deeply as it affected him. And I am now quite certain that ths old man thought that David would not find oat ths truth before he went away again, and so he would keep the metier to himself. "Don't tell him. Will." said the old man, changing bis tone. "Don't Interfere- between David and toe; It is danger ous. Yon don't know what mischief you may be doing. As for George- and Mary, 1 will arrange something. They shall go on at Sidcote n tenants on easy tonus on very easj tonus. Hut don't toll David, lie Is a very dangerous man. Don't tell him." "I will not tell him anything, If you ; will glvs Mary your consent." "David will n it st.iy here long. When he has gone- oh. dear! when he has got some more money ho will go sway. lV.n't tell him." "Yon have to give th'it money either to Mary or to David. Choose!" I rvpent ed. "Who are you, I should like to know," he asked, with a feeble show of anger, "that you should come and Interfere In family matters? What business Is It ot your? (Jo away to Iondon. Manage, your own affairs if you've got any. You are not my mphev." "Choose between Mary and David." "I must have Sidcote." he said, with a kind of moan. He clutched at the arms of his chair, his fnoe twitched convulsive ly, and he spoke feebly. "I have lost so much lately I have suffered so horribly you don't know how, young man, or you would pity me. I have been pun Ished, perhaps, because I wa too pros perous you don't know how, anil you can't guess. If I lose Sidcote, too, I shall die. You don't know, young gentleman you don't know what It Is to suffer as I have suffered." "Then I shell go at once to David and tell him." "I must have Sidcote. Do your worst!" he cried, with some appearance of his old fire and energy. "Do your worst. Tell David what you please, and leave me to deal with David. I will " He shook his head and pointed to the door. I told David that very evening. He was sitting at his table, a large open book before him, over which he was por ing Intently. He looked up when he heard my step outside, and shut the book hurriedly. "What do you want here?" he asked, roughly. "Why do you come prying af ter me?" "Upon my word, David," I said, "one would think we were old enemies Instead of old friends." "Speak up, then," he replied, his eyes suspicious snd watchful, as If I was try ing to get into hi cottage and steal something. "Speak up; let a man know yonr business. If you had no business you would not come here, I take It." "It Is business that may concern you very deeply," I said. And then I told him. "Well," he said, slowly, "I suppose you mesn honest, else why should you tell me? Perhaps you've got a score against the old man. too. This wants thinking of, this does. So the old woman had six thousand, had she? And Mary Is to have It if she marries with her uncle's consent and If she doesn't, I'm to have It." "Mary will marry George with or with out her uncle's consent; I csn tell you that beforehand. She will marry him within a very few weeks." "Nay," he said, "rather than give me the money he'd let her marry the black smith." At this point I came away, for fear he might try even to get beyond that possi bility; and the mess I had almost made of ths whole business proves, as I said before, that there Is no excuss whatever for the best Intentions. (To be continued.) 8HE CAN INTERE8T CHILDREN Bo This Woman with a Single Gift la Able to Earn Her Living. One woman who looks forward to a long and Idle summer without ap prehension has gone to Europe to travel. She has a letter of credit am ple for her purposes, and will be able to remain abroad until November. All this good fortune Is the result of making a specialty for herself when she started out to earn a living several yearn ago. She had a very small capi tal. She could Imitate children won derfully, and her quaint little face was not unlike a child's. She had, more over, the facult7 of Interesting chil dren greatly. "I remember," she says, when her unusual work Is referred to, "the story of the fox and the cat who met In the forest when the King was hunt ing." " 'Well, I only know how to do one thing," said the cat, modestly. 'It's my only trick.' " 'You don't say so! replied the fox, patronizingly. 'Why, I can do no end of tricks.' "The cat stared at the fox envious ly and was suddenly aroused by hear ing the horns of the King's hunters and the barking of the dogs. The cat ran up the tree, and, sitting on a branch, watched the approach of the cavalcade with serenity. " 'I thought you could do only one thing,' cried out the distracted fox as be ran away. "'I can,' the cat answered. 'But this happens to be rny trick.' "Then the cat had the satisfaction to see the dogs, after barking about the foot of the tree, run after the fox. " 'Now, like the cat," the woman says in conclusion, "I could do one thing. It was amuse children." She devoted herself to acquiring In teresting stories for children. She even sang and danced for them, and dressed herself up like a child. The result was such delight on their part that their mothers were always anxious to engago her for parties. She had all she could do, and has doubled her fee for next year. As tbre are always more children growing up, and the mothers all have a hlgJa opinion of her, her employment Is not likely to be exhausted soon. Washington Post Personal. Catharine Poor Percy! II seemed worried while be was reading the pa per. MyrtWa Poor fellow! He found out that Um lobster trust Is a reality. Uoo.l, (simple Hut HliiiUrr. All Iowa fnnu.'r riles Hint In hi pint of tli,. country, wIumv a largo amount of liny Is raised, but few farm er have burn room enough t hold It. so nr compelled to stack It. In stacking liny nut of doors sonic loss Is unavoidable, but an effort should he made to reduce (Ills loss to the minimum. one or the greatest mistakes Is making the stack too small. The smaller (tie Mack In. the larger the proportion of bay Is spoil ed by being on the top, bottom or sides. In making n large stack, ii stacker of some kind Is n necessity, and the one Illustrated here seems to be best allfiiound device for the pur pose. The device stands strnddle of the stack and Is held In place by brace smn.K it at STACKvn. ropes. The buy rope runs through u pulley In the cross piece. Drive the load of hay up to one cud of the stuck to unload. After you have tried tills method, says the farmer correspond ent, you will never stack another load of hay by hand. Cupiu-lty of Writs. A ready rule for arriving approxi mately at the number of gallon per foot of water: From the square of the bottom' diameter of the well. In Inches, cut off one figure and divide ly three. Thus: If the well Is sixty Inches In diameter, i'.oxi'.o equals .'1, ": cut off one figure It leaves Itiin. This, divided by three gives l.o, which Is the number of gallons for each foot of depth. If, therefore, the depth of wa ter were found to be tell feet, the available supply In the well would be l.l'ixi Dillons. As the bottom diame ter of a well Is sometimes less than the top diameter, care must be taken, In ascertaining the volume, n above, to adopt, for the purpose of calcula toln, the diameter of the part where the water Is: A lighted candle lower ed down the well will serve to show any breaks of diameter above water level. American Cultivator. When the Cow Chokes. A neighbor turned his cows Into his orchard with fallen apples. One cow became badly choked with an tipple. We took a piece of rubber hone three feet long, rather stiff; we greased this with lard, held the cow's head up and shoved the hose down her throat, pushing the apple down In the stom ach. A piece of rubber about 1 '4 Inchon in diameter Is the proper slz.e. Cow all right. Another plan I have tried with good success. Soon ns the cow Is choked lose no time In getting her Into t)io .stanchion, draw the bead up with a rope and fasten. Melt one pint lard, put in ll long-nocked bottle; while warm pour down throat. She will struggle to throw lard cut; the throat being well greased will cnu-.e the apple or potato to slip out easily. Exchange. Plun of Grain Ham. The cut shown the plan of a barn, which combines capacity with cheap ness. Tho upright supports may bo either 4x0 posts, or round poles, and where largo flat stones are not avail able may be set In holes with concrete In tho bottom and nil around tho posts well up and beveled at top, bo as to shed the water. Tho barn is 42 feet wide by tiny desired length, the Bldo posts to bo set S feet npart. On ac count of the double angle of tho roof purllno posts are not required. As there are no timbers In tho center thero is plenty of room for hay. Cows for the Dairy. Before tho dulryman can bo success ful In either branch be must draw the line between tho breeds that excel In yield of milk and those that give milk rich In cream. Tho first tiling the scientific dairyman does is to select the breed for the purpose be mny have In view. The next will be to feed In such a manner as to secure the larg est yield of eltner milk or butter In proportion to co,t ' tood, and the KAY DOOM QL.-S - A-- JJ.. 1 IHDVItW cost of tho food depends upon its adaptability for conversion Into I!h Ingredients entering Into the compo sition of lllllll. One Man Crosscut Nw, Most crosscut saws are made with two handles mid are Intended to be used by two men,, but It Is frequently desirable on the farm to have the saw available for use by n single man. Logs to be sawed may be too largo for the bucksaw, mid a sharp one man crosscut will saw almost If not fully as fast as a bucksaw and with out the back breaking effect. In any net TWO Il ASlrt II NII IT ON CllosStTT SAW event, whether II saw Is to be used by one or two men, It Is an advant.io, says mi Ohio Fanner writer, to liuv. one end of It furnished with a lv handed handle. Some small crosscuts are made with such n handle at one end (Fig 11. but. If not, the ordinary handle can bo removed from liny broad bladed saw and a homemade handle Inserted (Fig V.. Ill use, tho sawyer will, of course, hold the main stein with his left bund while with bli right he will grasp the lower and forked part of the handle, lie will be surprised at his Increased command over the working of the Implement. I. Ire on Cuttle or Hos. Prof. Thomas Shaw, of St. Paul, recommend the following preparation for disposing of lice on cattle or hog: Take one half pound of soft soap, or common soap If the soft cannot bo obtained, put this III one gallon of wa ter and boll slowly until the soap 1 dissolved; then remove from the stove mid add two gallon f coal oil, then beat until the soapy water and oil are thoroughly mixed, stirring It gently In the meanwhile. When you wish to apply It. take what I necessary from this stock and add from eight to ten times It bilk of water and apply with a cloth or brush. Make a second application when the nits hatch out, usually about tell days after, to destroy tills second crop. Handles for I.ure llrtakrta. To make handles for bushel baskets, save the hand pieces of all the worn out water buckets, or else make others like them, and passing a wire through, bend It down at right angles to the hand piece. Clipping the wire off at I!ANII.I:S K)B IIAHKKT". ii proper length which I about tl or 7 Inches, bend the end up Into hoop. Taking two of these handles hoop them In between the splits, under tho rl III of the basket, on opposite sides, and (julckly hav two good handles for carrying n basket tilled with potatoes, or any heavy article. The handles can remain on the basket, or bo re moved at will. The Itiirnyiird. There Is nothing so repulsive as n wet and filthy barnyard, In which the nnlmnls aro compelled to walk knee deep In tilth. Such a condition Is not necessary, and can be prevented If the bnrnynrd is kept well supplied with absorbent material. Throwing wholo cornstalks Into the bnrnynrd Is tho old method, but cornstalks do not absorb until they aro trampled to pieces, and in tho meantime much of the Moulds are carried off by the rains. It will pay to shred the corn stalks or cut the straw for bedding, while leaves and dry earth tuny also bo used In the barnyard with advant age. A New Fruit. Tho belle of, tho ball Just now (hor tlculturully speaking) is the peach tomato! This lovely fruit-vegetable Is of a glowing deep watermelon-red color. It is exhibited by a fruiter In the shape of one lino cluster. On this cluster aro eight lino examples, all clustered thickly together and beauti fied by means of laurel leaves. One of tho clusters is yet a deep red. They aro said to bo of an exquisite lluvor ond to contain few seeds. Feed 1 n Hens, liens like a variety of food, and they should bo given as much 1n that lino as possible. On the off mornings give a feed of euual parts corn and oatmeal, wet with milk, or boiled tur nips or potatoes mixed with a little wheat bran. All scraps from tho tabln and refuse from the kitchen ahouhl bo mixed with the morning feed. A daily allowance of a small quantity of meat, ground bone and oyster shells should not be overlooked. Our old and often recommended pre ventive of lice In nests la a big hand ful of dry slaked lime in the bottom of nest boxes. A little carbolic acid is put on the lime before It Is slaked. Every time the ben steps In that nest she 'stirs up the carboiated Urn dust OP Dr. Doyen, the noted French physb clan, whose much heralded euro for cancer has been pronouncisl a failure by u committee front the Paris Academy of Medi cine, has been tlm recipient of much criticism and some laudation d u r I ng r. i' -i "E (V" "uotiths. lie cnino to the notice or llio American p u b I 1 ( In November last, w hen G e o r g h Crocker, of NtW York brought suit against him for the return of a medical fee of fjo.ism, al leged to have been paid him on a guar antee of a cure of Mrs. Crocker, a vic tim of cancer. Mrs. Crocker died, and her husband brought suit and mudii some sensational charges, which wcro so grave tffht the French academy, of which the doctor was a member, ap pointed a nmlttee to Investigate bis alleged cure. That committee hits now reported that It has been unable to llud a casn which Dr. Doyen, has even re lieved. Brigadier General William Hurtling Carter, who has I i assigned to tho command of the I e"ri inein of tho Lakes, Is a dlstlu gulsliitl soldier w hose b o o U "II o r s e s, Saddle and Itrldles." Is tie ti'tt'luiiih f o i a. mounted olllcers It Nashvmo j$m the army horn at Tenn., ami it-t .it' graduated from lie military acadeiin In ls7.-l. In time to take part In tl x (tl M H Al. 1 Alii 11. petition against the Sioux. Later for sixteen years Im saw arduous servlcti In Arizona, ami for bravery In tlm battle against Apaches at Clblcu Creek, Aug. .'10, 1SSI, he received ft modal of honor. During the Spanish war General Carter rendered etllcleiit service 111 the War Department. Will Cninback. well known as an author, politician and lecturer, died recently at b's borne In t recnsbiirg. hid. lie was born n Indiana In 1". md nrnotlcetl law 15 f", Vil I Greelisbiirg tho :reater part of hU vV-sS"' "l ' -J I .,1 in I'otiL'ress 1 tt ":. defeating W. . llolmau 1 hi) 'Irst race, lie liead t the Indiana elec loral ticket 111 ISiIll, was a paymaster In the Flitted State Wll.l. I I illlAt K Army during the war, declined the po sition of Minister to Portugal under I 'resilient Grant, came within two votes of being elected Fnltetl Stale Senator In 1MK. served In the Statu Senate and wa formerly Lieutenant Governor of Indiana. One of the speakers at the commcin. oration exercises held at Sauit Ste. Ma rie, Mich., In honor of Cut semi centen nial of the opening of the Soti Canal was Peter White, wlio Is known as the "father of the Lake Superior country." lie Is (lie president of the S e m I -centenntlal A s s o c I atloii and was tho p r I in r mover In the proj ect to hold a cele bration, lie was bom In Home, N. Y., In 1K.H0, and l cattsl In Green Bay, Wis., with his father III IK'ti). Ho has been In tilt lake country ever since, removing to Marquette, Mich., ssn after the town's founding, lie has been success ful ns a merchant and a lawyer ami has also been connected with mining and railway Interests. Judge William U. Cumin, who has been sued by the Santa Fe Railroad Company for fi cents, storage charges ror one day on u safe door shipped from Chicago, Is one of tho most conspicuous attor neys In Tazewell enmity, III. For thirty years ho has been a resident of I'ekln, and has en Joyed a lucrative legal practice. lie Is a leader In the ftV'' 4 WT J I lull-. LXltUA.N. councils of tho Uo publlcan party, and for four years wus. Judge of tho County Court. Ilufiis Chornte once tried to get a Bos ton witness to deline nhseiitiuiiidoiineas, with the following rflsult: "I should say that a man who thought that he'd left his watch to hum and took It out'n to see If hail time to go hum and get It was a little absent minded." Reginald Ward, American millionaire, society man, friend of King Fdwurd, am once a Boston broker, has ahuiidonei the title of "count," conferred on him by Pops Leo XIII., on account of adverse criticism. 101. Inl I M. mm !.! I-II .1. 1 ... wit i