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About Lane County leader. (Cottage Grove, Lane County, Or.) 1903-1905 | View Entire Issue (Jan. 8, 1904)
$ f é c o n d C o u s in parerti 2 BY TME AL TMOH O f ’ AMBE J L OBE. 3 f t * S T E M , ” * L I T T L E MATE A / MB Y . " ETi . . E T C C H A P T E R II.— (Continued.) Sod*?*- H ill was a staring edifice o f con- siderable proportions, with an aspect c f newness about it that fourteen years had ' not done much to soften. It had been built to the order o f the present proprie tor, who had made much money by cot ton stockings, and had risen from twen ty shillings u week at the loom to the splendor o f his present life. It was a new house to suit the new man who bad been lucky enough to get rich. There were spacious grounds beyond, and there was a big room at the side, that was new to Reuben Culwick since he had last stood in his father’s house, and it was this that he pulled up his horse to in spect before turning into the carriage drive. Then he went rapidly along the drive, drew up in front o f the house, and step ped lightly and briskly from the trap, giving the reins to a rosy-faced young man in livery, who emerged from some stabling in the rear, to be o f service to the newcomer. “ Old Jones has gone, then?" he said to the servant. “ Y’ es, sir. H e’s with Squire Black of Holston." “ And you reign in his stead. Well, we cannot all reign." H e knocked and rang, looking stead ily through the glass doors the while. Another new face— a smart young house maid, whom he had never seen before, to replace Mrs. Perkins, who was stout and sallow, came to the door and admitted him. “ Is Mr. Culwick in?" “ Yes, sir, but he’s engaged just now." “ You will be kind enough to give him my card?" The maid servant took the card and departed, and Reuben Culwick, like the merest stranger, and feeling like a stran ger, very doubtful o f his reception, walk ed up and down the spacious hall with his hands behind him, and his bat in his hands. Presently the servant reappeared. “ W ill you step this way, if you please, sir?" Reuben followed the servant along a corridor to a door at the extremity— the door of the new room, he was certain. report, made me what I am? I would : rather break my own heart than break my word. You know it," said the father i boastfully. “ F ifty hearts as w?!l ns your own— yes, ! know it," answered the other, with an unflinching faze ) t his father, “ and hence I come to you— not for assistance, I don’t want it; not for affection, I don't expect it— but with the simple motive, which I hope that iny letter conveyed to you last week, to see you, to express sor row for a long alienation, to feel glad that you are well, to tell you that I am not unhappy, and to go away again.” The son’s tones seemed to impress the father, who subsided into his easy chair, from which, he had leaned forward, as if cowed by the cold, clear-ringing tones o f the voice which fell upon his ears, voice which subdued him, and an arro gance that had always been difficult to quell— which touched him, though he never owned that— which made him even prouder o f his son. though the time nev er came for him to own that, either. The young woman in the background leaned forw ard'w ith clasped hands until he caught her glance again, when she once more turned her eyes upon her book. “ Have you made your fortune?" asked the father, in a different voice. “ On the contrary, I have been some what unsuccessful." “ H ow do you live?" “ I write— a little,’’ he added modestly. “ It is a long story, that would scarcely inter€»st you." “ It would not interest me in the least." There was another long pause, during which the son, still at his ease, still singu larly hard.« despite his respectful man ner. glanced round at the pictures on the walls, admired them even, secretly but not enviously, wondered at their cost, and looked once more in the direction of the lady, whose pensive face and quiet grace he admired also, and at whose presence he wondered in a greater degree, though he repressed all exhibition of surprise. Suddenly the father said, with that sin gular abruptness characteristic o f the mnn: “ You can stay here if you like." “ For how long?" asked the son, sur prised at last out of his assumption of from his old remembrance o f the house. stoical composure. The door was opened and his name an “ T ill we disagree again," said the fath nounced, and he felt that he was passing er,-with a short, forced laugh; “ that will into a spacious apartment, the walls of not be many days, I suppose?" which were bright aud rich with many “ One moment, sir,” said Reuben Cul pictures, and the ceiling paneled and wick, with grave politeness. “ A mis massive, with ground glass in the panels, take parted us, and we are laying the for the proper transfusion of light on foundation o f another already, unless I Mr. Simon Culwick'* “ collection.* When explain the first." Simon Culwick had lost his son Reuben, “ Go on." he had taken to the “ masters," ancient “ I was hardly twenty-one— a rash and and modern, ami given them all the love foolish young fellow— when you wanted that was in his heart. me to marry your friend’s daughter." But it was not at the paintings which “ You would have been rich— you would enriched the walls that Reuben Culwick have been respected— it would have been gazed with so much of curious earnest for the best." ness, but at the big broad-faced mail sit “ I refused to entertain the proposal, if ting before the fire in a capacious loath you remember." ern chair, ami who was looking curiously “ Remember! remember It!" cried the and steadily at him. There was a pret father, turning pale with anger; “ do you ty, fair-haired young woman, in gray t ilk. rake this up again to insult me?" sitting at the table in the recess o f a bay “ No, to enlighten you," said the other; window, reading, and Reuben was con “ at that period, Mr. Culwick. I had prom scious o f her presence—that was nil. She ised my mother that I would not marry rose not at his entrance, only looked to the lady." # ward him with a certain degree of curb oslty as he advanced.,and then turned C H A P T E R III . to* the pages of her hook as he held his The effect * of Reuben Cnlwfck’s an hand out to his father. nouncement upon his father was remark “ So you have thought of me at last, able. The big man rose from kis chair have you?” was rolled out in n gruff bass, with his two large hands clenched, and as a large, white gouty-looking hand was his face o f a deep purplish hue, and placed in that of his son. glared at his son in speechless wrath. “ St) 1 bare come back at last," answer Then he sank slowly and heavily into his ed Reuben Culwick. seat again, and panted for awhile. The “ You can sit down,*’ said the father. dark coloring left the face, hut the bushy “ Thank you," said the son. black brows retained their lower curves This was the meeting after five year»' over the eyes, and the mouth was hard absence— the calm after the great storm and fixed, until the lips parted Rlightly to which had happened in that house five allow a few words to escape. years ago. This was the home that the “ And this is the first time you tell me son had never liked, and that he felt he that you were in league with your moth- y did not like now, although he had come to it of his own free will. There was ‘Y es." answered Reuben, politely. “ I a pause, during which each man took was a willful lad who had not been stock of the other without any particu brought up well or looked after carefully, lar reserve. and I hnd been only taught to fear you. “ I got your letter," said the father, My mother, who had been separated from “ and I might have sent the carriage for you for some years, I was learning to re you hnd It not rained so much." spect then. When we quarreled, I went “ The horses might have caught cold in to take care o f her as well ns 1 could. 1 stead o f me," saitl the son dryly; “ hut I was with her when she died." didn’t want the carriage. I was glad that “ You know how I hated your play-act 1 had not further to go last night thau ing mother—how she hated me. W h y do W orcester." you tell me that you aided with her. when H e looked toward the lady in the bay it would be so much the better policy to window at this juncture, and his father keep this to youraelf?" said the father, noticed the wandering gaze, and paid no bitterly. attention to the hint which it conveyed. “ Because I am not afraid o f yon any “ W ell, what have you been doing? longer— because I see now where you W hat do you propose doing now that you were wrong." are here? I suppose, after all that has And you expect me to forgive this de passed, you have no intention o f sitting ceit. as old men do at the end o f a play?” down in the house and waiting compla- j “ Or toward the end o f their live«," add cently for my death ami my money?" the ed Reuben. father Inquired. “ I>on*t talk to me o f the end o f my “ You told me that l should never have life.” he cried; “ I dare say yon hare a penny o f yonr money, if you remember, thought enough of it— hare considered sir. I have never expected it after that that it would be as well to sink your day.” aaid Reuben Culwick. cursed pride and your ourseder temper, “ W h y should you?" said Mr Culwick and comm here In prodigal-son fashion. In a loud tone o f voice, ami yet without But it won’ t do; I ’ m not a man to be betraying any passion. “ Have 1 been hoodwinked in*that way." known in all my life to break my word ? “ I am not sorry to have seen you, fath H as not sticking to ray word, through er," said Reuben, rising; “ I came out of thick and thin, in evil report and good j mv way— a long way out o f it— to reach Worcester. I am glad to find you well. Good day.* H e extended his hand again, but this time his father refused to take it. “ You have come out o f your way to give me a fresh wound, that’s all,” said the father, sullenly, “ aud you have done It effectually. I don’t want you to trou ble nie again. You will not come here again at my invitation. I can’t forgive you— why should I? I never forgave anybody. I never forgave your mother. I Your two aunts offended me years ago, ' you know. H ave I ever forgiven them? One died last summer, and I wouldn’t . . i d b , Children. go to see her— wouldn’t go near her— and i the other one is in St. Oswald's alms-1 “ l i your new nurse French or Oer- | houses, blind as a bat, and living on man?” asked the visitor. “ I link her'» eight shillings a week. Eight shillings a bwoken English.” replied S-year-otd 1 week, and those pictures there cost me Margie. eighty thousand pounds." _______________ _ __ _ _______ A good investment," said Reuben __ Cul- | Come, H a rry," said his mother, “ It’s ick, coolly, and critically looking round time all good little boys were in bed But, mamma." rejoined the little fel the walls; “ they will increase in value year by year, sir. low, “ you said I was naughty to-day, As he looked round he became aware, so that lets me out." for the fir/t time, that the lady in the bay “ Mamma.’’ queried little 4-year-old window had disappeared. She hnd pass Mabel, “ was papa related to us before ed from the room silently, through a sec “ Cer ond door at the extremity o f the picture he married Into our fam ily?" tainly not, dear," was the reply. “ Oh, gallery. “ And I never gave her a penny in my then we Jnst adopted him, didn’t we, mamma?" continued the small miss. life," added Mr. Culwick, senior. “ Poor old Sarah— blind is she? and in L ittle Dorothy was visiting In the the almshouse, too! I am sorry. I liked country last summer and, seeing a old Sarah," said Reuben; “ she was one black, red and white calf In the bam, of the few friends I had when I was a she ran to her mother and said: “ Oh, boy, and when you were not rich. But I am detaining you, and I am pledged to mamma, come out to the barn and see reach London to-night. Good by again." the cute little cow with a calico skin." Mamma— Johnny, do you know what When he had reached the door, Simon Culwick called out his name, and Reu day to-morrow w ill be? Johnny— Yes, ben paused and turned. mamma; my birthday. Mamma— And “ I am not deceitful." said the father, w hat would you like for the occasion? “ and I may as well tell you that I have Johnny (a fte r a pause)— I ’d like to see made my will, and that you will never our schoolhouse bum down. be a penny the better for it. It is all left — all," he added, “ away from au unduti- To Make M iniatu re Toy*. ful son." W ith scissors for tools and paper There was a moment’ s pause, and then and toothpicks to take the place of Reuben Culwick quitted his father’s pres ence and closed the door after him. Ho lumber and beams, boys and girls can went from the room into the corridor, and thence along its entire length to the din ing room, where he threw himself into a chair with so thoughtful a mien that he was not for the moment aware that the young lady in gray silk whom he hnd seen the bay window was stepping back from the big fleecy mat at the door, to allow o f his egress. When he saw her, she put her finger to her lips, and he repressed an exclamation o f surprise. “ Go back," she said, with an excite ment that astonished him; “ don’t give up— don’t leave him like that— it’s your last chance." You have been listening," said Reu ben, coldly. “ T o every word," was the honest con fession; “ and you have not said a word to please him, and much to offend. Why did you come, if in no better spirit than this? Go back to him. Tell him how sorry you are for everything— do some thing before you go that will leave be hind a better impression," she urged again. “ No, I can’t go back." M ADE OF P A P E R “ You are as hard as he is," she cried; as if it mattered what you said to him — as if it were not worth a struggle to get lots o f fun by making little ob regain your position here!" Jects. T o make a chair, cut the figure Grasping her wrists, while her hands covered her face to hide it from his fierce (a) tw ice out o f a cardboard or a gaze, Reuben exclaimed in a wondering playin g card. W h ere the design Is marked by dots, tone. “ Who are you?” “ Only the housekeeper, sir.” she said, bore small holes and stick the ends of quaintly; “ keeping house for Simon Cul toothpicks through them, allow ing only wick— and in your place. You should the extrem e ends to stick out, and the hate me ns a usurper already," Bhe add chair Is ready (b). T h e same w ay you ed, mockiugly, “ if you had any spirit m can m ake a cradle (c). you." “ The housekeeper— yes— but-----** he 1 A double ladder (d), a rdeking-ehalr said w’onderingly. and without regarding (e). a stretcher (f). a push-cart (g), a her strange taunts. “ I was not aware sleigh (h), a wagon (1), a house (k), a — " i bench (ml, can be made by the same “ W hy should you be aware of anything sim ple means. . about me, you who are ns quarrelsome i A table (n) la made by bending a and strange ns your father, and have square piece o f cardboard, as shown In kept away so long? There, go home and think of the best way to bring that old ths picture, and Inserting four tooth picks Into the tw o places where the man to his senses." “ And interfere with your chance," said paper Is bent under. Reuben, lightly. lie was in better spir- | A basket la made ant o f a round ring its already, and the odd manner of this or a square (r and a) and a smaller young lady interested him. round or square piece o f cardboard, as “ I have no chance," she answered, “ or shown In the Illustrations. I should not be very anxious for you to get back. I should be too selfish— I Cat Id r f n ’, r.n n M . should try and keep you away, being as Children are Instinctive conserva fond o f money ns your father is.” tives. They play the old games and re- “ I hardly believe this." “ Mr. Reuben Culwick can believe ex actly what he pleases," said the young P O E T S IN T H E P O O R H O U S S . lady, spreading out her skirts and mak ing him a very low obeisance, which he A R a t h e r P a t h e t i c P u r e . . t o n e f t h e felt bound to return, after which be W o r t h o f R i v a l V e r s e S in k e r s . would have continued the conversation In no country Is there among the had she not darted out of the door and poorest and least educated a greater disappeared. love o f poetry than In Ireland; no (T o be continued.) where are the poets o f the people held W h at They Fluid. longer or more ferven tly In remem Penelope— Charley called last night. brance. Lady G regory tells a charac Justine— T h a t’s tw ice in a week, Isn't teristic anecdote o f a discussion which It? she henrd between tw o o f the aged, Penelope— Y es. toil-worn, poverty-stricken Inmates o f Justine— I suppose he’ll come three Oort Workhouse concerning the rival times In the next week? m erits o f tw o peasant bards o f sixty Penelope— T hat's what my brother years ago— R aftery and Calllnan. says. The partisan o f Calllnan declared Justine— And six times the next? that he had been a more respectable Penelope— T h at's what aunty says. kind o f man, owning a little farm of Justine— And seven times the next? hla own and Ills own cattle; moreover, Penelope— T hat's what papa says. that he had more settled and respecta Justine— And then what? ble w ays; also, that he w as more good- Penelope— Then w e 'll get married; natured, and did not lash Ills neighbors that’s what everybody says. with satire; finally, that he was a bet Justine— And then what? ter poet, anyw ay, and that R aftery, Penelope— Then I sha'n't see him any the blind, wandering rimester. admit more o f an evening: that's what mam ted It by avoiding any encounter with ma says.— B altim ore Sun. him, and once wept with chagrin when Little Stories and Incidents that Will Interest and Enter tain Young Readers I peat the old rhyme, century « ft e r cen- tury, with little If «n y variation, Blind man s buff, for « » “ > survival o f the rites pMjiUar ___ worship o f Odin, the sightless deity— Is played to d a y exactly aa It was played 2.000 years ago. So. too. la “ tag,” which was original ly a fragment o f a aucred pantomime, or miracle play, portraying the old, old story o f Diana and her nympha. in "London Bridge la broken down” we are treated to the entire ritual o f the foundation sacrifice, that wide spread. hideous custom, which decreed that a living child must be sacrificed to the god o f the structure ere It could be expected to stand firm ....___ . First, It will be remembered, t children urge alternative measures. " London Bridge Is broken down.” cry the two leaders, standing from an arch, hands elasned so as to form an arch, nanas ciaspeu, so beneath w h Th the other lltt i. player. race, as i f in dread. "Build It up with bricks and mor tar,” is the reply. "Bricks and mortar wUl mold away.” "Build It up with penny loaves— with gold and sliver— set a man to watch all day— set a dog to bark all night," aud the rest o f It. Mrs. Anderson, a prominent society woman of Jacksonville, Fla., daughter of Recorder of Deeds, West, sa y s: “ There are but fe w w lvee end mothers w h o have n ot at tim es en dured agonies and such pain as only women know of. I w ish such women knew the value q f L y d ia K. P ln k - h u iu ’ s V e g e t a b l e Coiii|»«>tin d. It is a remarkable m edicine, differen t in action from any o th er 1 e ver knew and thoroughly reliable. * I have seen cases w h ere women doctored fo r years w ith ou t permanent benefit _______ who w ere cured in less __________ than y , ree months a fte r ta k in g your Vege- table Compound, w h ile others who were chronic and incurable came out cured, happy, and in perfect health ...... _ » a . ,.). tr u irn s n i .a .us. ^ ^ T h f v . « v ^ T t m ,^ m yself | without ga in in g g re a t benefit. A few doses restores m y stren gth and appetite, and tones up the entire system. Your m edicine has been tried ami found true, hence I fu lly endorse tt.” — M bs . K. A. A x u k r so n . 225 Wash ington 8t., Jacksonville. F la .— fsooo f t l t I f original o f abooo taatlmoalal proving gone- neot cannot bo proaucoO. t T h e ' experien ce and testim ony o f some o f the most noted women o f A m erica g o to prove, beyond a question, th a t L y d ia E. P in k - ham’s V egeta b le C om pound w ill | correct all such trou b le a t once b y rem ovin g t h e cause, anil re s t o r in g th e organs to u health/ auil norm al condition. "Does your daughter’ s husband love her as devotedly as ever?” “ H e does when I'm around," replied her daugh ter’ s husband's mother-in-law, grimly, — Houston Pont. Mother« w ill And Mr«. W in dow 's toothing Svrup the best remedy to u«e for their children i£>e leeth ln i mmols . The Anxious M other—A re you sure my son has appendicitis? T h e Emi nent Specialist—W e can te ll you bet ter, madam, a fte r the operation. ~ Life. A N D T O O TH P IC K S . T o Break la N ew Shoes. Always shake In A llen 's Foot-Kase, s powder. Then, lastly, the hands are unclasp It cures hot, sweating, aching, sw ollen feet. Cures corns, ingrow ing nails and bunions. At ed, the “ arch” falls, catching one o f all druggists and shoe stores, 2.V. Don't accept the players— preferably a little girl— any substitute Sample mailed FREE. Address Allen ». Olmsted, U Roy, N. Y. In Its mock descent, after which all the children shout In unison. “ Hurrah: ” D1s world ala t square,” grow led Hurrahl N ow ’tw ill last for aye and a little Mickey. "W h y not?” Hsked Jim day, with a fa ir lady."— Pearson's my. “ 'Cause the only ones dat get W eekly. free peanuts are elephants and police men."—Chicago News. L i t t l e S leep y - Head. Oh, plenHe, will some wise person say Which is the really proper way For mother's little sleepy-head, To get each morning out of bed? For often when As sister combs She says "Oh, head, “ You’ve got the Piso's Cure Is s good cough medicine. I t has cured coughs aftd colds for forty years. A t druggists, 25 cents. H e—I'd like to meet Miss Bond. She I cry and pout. —W hy? “ I hear she has th irty thou my tangles ont. sand a year and no Incumbrance.” "I s Hose," and shakes her she looking for one?” —L ife . wrong way out of bed!” I've tried both right and left foot first, I'm not quite sure which Is the worst; But was it not uukiud of Ned To bid me “ fall out on my head?” Ho. please. If some one really knows. Just send a line— my name Is Rose, At mother's house I always stay, And our old postman knows the way. r iT Q Permanentiy un rea. ito ftt« or nervo i l i o after flrst dBy’suseofDr.Kline’ sGreat Nervs Rettorer. Send for F r e e U t trial boitle and treatlse. Dr. R. H. Kit ne, I.Ul Wl Arcb St . i ’hlladelphl*. P * The Masculine Theory. W ife— I wonder w hy the fashions for women change so often? Husband— Probably for the purpose of enabling them to correspond w ith the feminine mind, m y dear. Horrible Thought. H ere’s an astrologer w h o predicts msn that would go out his own back door and make a poem about the four that K in g Edward is shortly to pass quarters o f the earth. I tell you, you through a lot of trouble, a dark clond would stand In the snow to listen to hanging over the em pire. Some hor rible calam ity, don’ t you know. Calllnan!” I ’ ll bet Alfred Austin is w ritin g an But Just then, Lady Gregory records, a bed ridden old woman, who had not other ode.— Life. Joined in the discussion at all, "sud denly sat up in bed and began to sing R aftery’s love song, 'Bridget Vesach' I (Courteous Brldgeti. This she contin-1 tied as long as her breath lasted; so j the last word was for him, after all.” ABSOLUTE SECURITY. R ig Tusk to Sweep Floor. It Is enough to blister one's hands Just to contemplate the Job that con fronted the men who swept the floor o f the mammoth palace o f agriculture at the St. Louis world’ s fair. When the contractors finished their work all that remained to be done was to sweep the floor. It never dawned on anyone how great the task was. Cald well & Drake, the contractors, ordered a dozen brooms and set tw elve men to work. When night came their Inroads on the twenty-three acres o f floor S u i t B e a r S ig n a t u r a o f some satiric verses on his rival were space were scarcely noticeable. They M ild ly Rebuked. “ Didn't you say that It was going to answered to overw helm ing effect by Increased the force next day to fortv the riv a l’s brother, also a poet. rain to-day?" men and ordered UK» brooms. These, The aged champion o f R aftery (real forty men worked ten days before the I d id ." answered the weather ly the more gifted poet o f the two) big floor was thoroughly swept. proph et Ses Fsc-Slmlt. Wrapper M e w . But there hasn't been s sign o f reluctantly admitted that he "would Som etim e«. run people down, aud was someways moisture.” r * » am en s s < aa « Sunday School Teacher - Bobby I am p erfectly aw are o f the fact. A ll b itte r"; but he, too. was kind at heart; I could do was to offer the best opinion and she Instanced the pretty Incident where do good people go when they | die? FOR READACRb on the subject that I could arrive at. I f o f the m arriage o f a poor servant lad Bobby (glibly)— T o heaven. FOR DIZZINESS. I could accurately foretell events. I and lasa “ that was only a marriage till R aftery --------- chanc- 8nnday School Teacher— Yes. that la V --------- should quit w ork in g for a salary and and not a wedding FDR RIUOUSRESts A “ d if a pereon who Is wicked make a fortune In the stock m arket."— ed to coine In; and he made It one." | FOR TORPID LIVER. composing a grand song descriptive o f * " th* W ,T through dies, where doe. W ashington Star. FOR CONSTIPATIOR. a noble feast, calling In the neighbors “ ® So T h o u g h t fu l. FOR SALLOW SHIR. Bobby—T o the police station — She—There, dear, haven't I been ta hear it. turning the occasion Into a FOR THECOMPIEXIOR festival, and finally taking up a con Home Companion, thoughtful o f you and unselfish? U I Ï I » W » r WAV* tkOWATVWt. _ trtbntlon from each guest, and bestow H e—Hoar? T fc f t u i ; d m i A man who boasts o f being able to in g the generous result on the happy "W h y , I kept all these bills o f mine areompUah more In one day than any and astonished pair. C U R E SICK H E A D A C H E . aw ay from you until the middle o f the But the partisan o f Calllnan was not other man can In 1 week never has m onth!" silenced. "1 tell you." said she. em occasion to do I t T o see what la right, and not to do It, phatically. “ Callinan was a nice man I f » m e men knew as much as they Is want o f courage, or o f principle.— and a nice neighbor. R aftery wasn't e t t i* « N U I A ll l i s t f A lii. E Confucius. fit to put beeida him. Calllnan was t £ L kJ V ™<7<’lopedla would h av. ¿ , from business. Genuine Carter's Little Liver Pills. CARTERS m 3 E - J m W , H ; E U B l •» » '>a*h Syrup. ra»t«w G o»d. U «* io tiro«, to ld by d n iQ t«tA I