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NORTH GE H J _ ■;*"•’■ V S? m __ ijr? GIA TIMES
mmmh.
oprtotor
The Prince’s Bow and Arrows,
There was a littjff i’rittca of Spain
Lived very tong ago,
Who said the big horizon—
He would bend it like a bow.
His arrows in the form of ships
He'd shoot, and make them go
To many undiscovered lands
Where gold and diamonds grow;
,
And so this little Prince of Spain
Longed for the years to go
Until his arm was strohg enough
To bend his mighty bow.
And so this little Prlnoe of Spatn, r*.
Like little boys you know.
As the advancing years went on
Did marvellously trow.
And he became the King of Spain
And made the ships to go
To many undiscovered lands
Where gold and diamonds grow.
His arrows In the form of ships
Swung Idly to and fro,
For though his arm was very strong
He eovrld not bend his bow.
' We all are princes of the blood,
Who build our ships to go
To many undiscovered lauds
Where gold and diamonds grow;
But still on old familiar sens
They wander to and fro,
And hug the Immemorial shores
• ‘ Where landward breezes blow.
And like the li tie Prince of Spain,
... Who lived so long ngo,
lYe have our arrows ready
But we cannot bend the bow.
—8. W. Fossin Yankee Blade.
drawing Eras.
It was a still, bright sunset ih i?to
Octob r. Last liigln’s frost lmd un¬
sealed the chestnut burrs on Yfellow
Mountain and shaken the glossy brown
treasures out among the fallen leaves
and mosses. Thu tall dahlias by the
garden fence hung their blackened
heads, as if some unseen lire had
passed over them, and a locust was
winding liis shrill horn among tho
h '-poles at the hack door.
Old Mrs. Crisp, from her cushioned
arm-chair, watched the yellow light
fadelelowly away from the western
hill-tops. .*«
„ She was a Tittle old woman, her faco
printed over with fine wrinkles, her
eyes shining like black coals under
their shaggy gray brows, and she
wore a black calico gown patterned
in an odd, sickle-shaped design of
white, with a muslin half-handkor
chicf pinned around her neck, and as
she looked this way and that, in a fee¬
ble, petulant sort of way, a deep sigh
pnmpcd itself up from her inner con¬
sciousness.
“Oh, dear, dear,” said Mr'. Crisp,
talking aloud to herself, as was her
way during those not infrequent pe
riod-of loneliness, “everything’severy
which way! There’s the cows lowing
at the bars to be milked, and nobody
to ipt ’em in, and the pi_,s a-squealin’
for their supper like all possessed, and
the turkeys,flappin’ up into the apple
tree boughs to roost, instill o’ goin’
into the poultry-house, as they should,
and the kettle not on, and me here
helpless, a poor, good-for-nothin’ creo
tur! What lias become of Lotty!”
“Nothing at all, Mrs. Crisp,” spoke
up a sweet, distinct young voice, and
a girl of seventeen or thereabouts came
briskly into the room. “I’ll look after
the cows and the turkeys and the pigs
and the teakettle. Don’t you fret
yourself.”
“I can’t noways help it,” said Mrs.
Crisp. “You ain’t nothin’ but a
feather-headed child, Lotty Ansel, and
I’m a fool to have you in tho house.
Hurry up with the cows now. I’d be
ashamed to have Deacon Brand go by
and see ’em not milked this time of
the evening. And if the turkeys once
get on tlie top branch of the tree, no
power alive will git ’em down ag'in.”
But Lotty took her time about it—
untying her sun bonnet strings and
smoothing out her masses of wavy,
black hair, before she went to work.
“There is no hurry, Mrs. Crisp,”
said she.
The old woman watched her with
an exasperated countenance.
“Lotty Ansel;” said she, “I’d like to
shake '-ou 1”
Lottie laughed as she took up the
tea-kettle.
“Oh, but you can’t,” said she. “I
shall take particularly good care to
keep out of your reach. Where’s the
milk-pail? Oh, I remember—I left it
in the sunshine, out on the bench.”
“I’m sure 1 dunno why I have you
here at all,” sighed Mrs. Crisp, ner¬
vously patting her foot on the floor.
“J know,” said saucy Lotty. “Be¬
cause you can’t get any one else for
the wagesjMilke wiy^g io give, with
xtip in. Bessie
%
SPRING PLACE. A.. THURSDAY. DECEMBER 18, 1890.
Barclay tried it, and made a dead
failure of it; and Susan Harrison
would’t stay a week. I don’t know,”
Lotty added, reflectively, “tlpt 1 shall
stay very long.”
“On, Lotty,” cried Mrs. Crisp, “yon
wouldn’t leave me here alone?”
Lotty paused on the threshold and
turned her bright face toward the old
woman.
“No,” said she, “I won’t, Mrs.
frisp. You are very cross and very
exacting, and 1 get dreadfully out of
patience with you sometimes; but I
like you after all, and I won’t leave
you just yet.”
And she took her way, with light
footsteps, toward the cow-yard.
“IV, V okiug little creature!” said
Mrs. Crisp. “But I don’t know's 1
could do belter. She’s dreadful inde
p lident to my face, but that’s bettcr’n
talking behind my back. I won
der—”
And she sat in deep meditation until
Lotty returned, a foaming milk-pail
in either hand.
“I really think,” she broke out at
last, “that it would be a good idee for
Alexander to get married.”
“So do I,” said Lotty, from the
bjf^roMU, ilk lnt ° where “ l0W ° she f gli was * olIn straining pan8
TM know,” sharply retorted « ‘
Crisp, “that it’sany of your busi
nssvmiss!”
“Oh, yes, it is,” said Lotty. “It’s
everybody’s business why Aleck Crisp
don’t get married. There isn’t a soul
in the village but is talking about it.”
.ay U won’t let him.”
she. “1 was “But sort I ain’t o’ %gin Wlonger. it,” owned Let
me “She’s see .‘here’s too old,” Huldal irXosed Jrump-” Lotty,
whowasnowscaldinMt M the milk
IV-Hs. 4 \
'
“Hold your tongue!” said
Crisp, sharply. “And there’s
oslu
“Alack Crisp would never marry
girl with a nose all on one side,
i-enmah!” cried Lotty, who had drawn
out the round table and was covering
it. with a clover-patter qed cloth for
tea.
She was light in her movements
and swift, like a humming-bird.
“Haliie Van Yorst,” Mrs. Crisp
counted up on her fingers, “and Lucy
Barrow—”
“They’d any one of ’em marry your
Aleck,” said Lotty searching in the
cupboard for the spoons, “if they had
the chance. ’
“I hate to give him up to a stran¬
ger,” sighed Mrs. Crisp, “but if I’m
to be helpless like this, something
must be done.”
“Oh!” said Lotty, with a toss of her
head. “So anyone that marries
Aleck has got to marry you, too! Ilal
lie Van Vorst never would stand that,
Airs. Crisp, and IJnldah Crump has a
nice stiff temper of her own too!”
“Lottie Ansel, I do wish—”
“Look here, Airs. Crisp,” said Lot¬
tie advancing with tho bread-board in
one hand and the sharp kn,fe in an
other, “I’ll tell you what. When
Aleck’s wife makes it too hot -to hold
you here, you come anil live with me.
‘ ‘I’ll take care of you if you do scold
me sometimes.”
“This ain’t a jestin’ subject, Lotty,”
said the old woman, severely. “Hu!
dah Peninah, Hullie Van Vorst and
Lucy Barrow—”
“Squire Iladdon’s Victorina is
rather spoony on your son Aleck,”
suggested Lotty.
“I don’t know what spooney
means,” said Mrs. Crisp, coldly.
“Victorine liaddon and Frances Jane
Dodd—all of ’em smart, stirrin’ gals.
I don’t kuow which I like best of the
lot.”
it Draw lots,” suggested mischievous
Lotty. “Here’s Aleck’s old hat.
Wait a minute till I write the names
on slips of paper. Let Aleck draw
for himself. That will settle it.”
“Nonsense!” said Mrs. Crisp.
“Though I don’t know why that ain’t
as sensible away as any, arter all.
Give me the pencil, Lotty, and a book
to write on. I’ll write the names my¬
self. You’ll be up to some of your
tricks.”
“No, I won’t,” said Lottie. “Hon¬
or bright!”
But Airs. Crisp persisted in writing
the names in her own cramped old
hand.
placed ♦*1 woGder,” tlie slips said of she, wlieu in the she m
paper
•‘what Alexander Aleck Crisp will say?*’ in -''vy*.**;- fo
came
little late. He was a faWjjjlr* 1
skinned fellow, with sleepy hazel
eves, a silky brown beard and a com¬
posed way of taking every (hiugfor
granted. He poured a pocket hand¬
kerchief full of shining ehestnutR into
his mother’s lap os he entered. f |L
' “I picked them up under the old
tree by the bars,” said ho. “We’H
roast them, mother, after tea, and
here’s a bunch of golden-rod for
Lott}'. She likes a posy on the ta¬
ble.”
“We’ve got something for, you, too,
Mr. Alexander,” said Lotty, pertly.
“You are to shut your eyes and
draw.”
“Draw what!” said Alexander, in
his slow way.
“A wife,” said Lotty. “Where’s
tj, e hat, Mrs. Crisp?”
Alexander listened to his mother’s
plan j tt perfect silence Ho looked
f rora Mrs. Crisp to Lotty and back
again.
“Whose idea was it?” said he at
length.
“Lotty’s,” said Mrs. Crisp.
‘‘So she wants mo to get married?’
,.y £ CQur6e j d o,” gaJd
«She’s Ure(l of the place> j 8up .
pose?”
<<i don’t mind,” said Lotty, biting
her lip.
“Well, mother,” said Alexander,
giowiy, i.py 0 always done as you said
,"Z' M Sd jH£’
K. otk,‘
shut vour leisure?* moment, Jxuu.
With
der put his hand
of the old straw hat which Mrs. Crisp
held tn her lap, and drew out a slip of
paper.
“Who is it, Aleck?” cried Mrs.
Crisp, her old faco all a-quiver with
nervous excitement.
“Vick liaddon, I’ll bet a cooko yi*
said Lotty, running* to peep over
Aleck's shoulder,
“No,it’s Peninah Foster!” said Mr*.
Crisp. “I somehow feel it in my
bones that it’s Peuiuali!”
Aleck, leaning toward the ^lamp,
held up his slip of -paper, and read
aloud the words:
“Charlotte. Ansel I”
Mrs. Crisp gave a little ^liriek..
Lotty Ansel, standing there in the full
glare of the light, turned a deep scar
let, and then ran out of the room.
“Come back, I pttv!” cried Mrs.
Crisp.
“Lotty!” called Alexander, in the
deep accent of a command.
But Lotty did not come back.
It was almost ten o’clock. All the
lights but one were out in tlx 8 one
storied wooden cabin where the | Ansel
family lived, close to the mill.
“Don’t let him coine m, -mol her,”
sobbed Lotty, “That’s his kno»ck, I
know it is. If • on do, I’ll go and
drown myself in the mill-dam!”
“Don’t be silly, child,” said .ms.
Ansel, a stout, motherly soul, with her
gray locks twisted into a tight knot -at
the back ^her head, and dark, laiq th¬
ing eyes, flL Lotty’s own. Yon’ ve
got to seeTflin some time or other —
why not now?”
And site opened the door, in spite Ot f
Lotty’s protestations, to Alexanders
Crisp.
Tlie girl was crouched in a corner,
with crimson cheeks and half-averted
eyes, as he came in.
“Lotty,” said he, “why did yon run
away from me?”
“Did you think I was going to
stay?”
“It was your own idea,” said Alex¬
ander, calmly.
“But I didn’t put my name in. I
never dreamed of such a thing—
never!” protested the girl.
“I’ve drawn you by lot, Lotty.”
“It was only in joke,” she per¬
sisted.
“It may have been a joke to start
with,” said Alexander: “but it’s got
past the joking point now. I’m in
serious earnest, and I mean what I
say. My mother is all alone. She
must not be left so. For her sake,
Lotty, come back.”
“I won’t!” flashed out Lotty.
“For mine then, Lotty? Dear little
Lotty! When I tell ycu that life with
out you won’t be worth a farthing? ’
The long lashes fell; the color
mounted anew to the soft cheeks.
: “Perhaps — I — ought — not — to —
leave Mrs. Crisp—alone,” murmured
Lotty.
And the next moment she was clasp¬
ed in Aleck’s arms.
‘•But how came my name among the
of paper?” said Lotty, when she
was once more in the kitchen at the
Crisp house. “Who put it there?”
“I did,” 6aid Mrs. Crisp, calmly.
I liked you bettor’n any of the gals
whose names you counted over, and l
ttyjGglit you ought to have as good a
chance as them. You’re a mischiev¬
ous piece, always isakin’ fun of every¬
body and everything, but there's a
good deal o’ fun in you alter all,
Lotty Ansel. You iiint vexed with me,
be you?”
“No,” said Lotty. “Not now!”
Afterward, when Alexander lmd
gone out to lock up the barn, she crept
close to Mrs. Crisp and put her arris
around the old lady’s withered nock.
“He says he lias loved me this long
time,” whispered she. “Only he
thought I was too young to care for a
sober, middle-aged fellow like him.
He didn’t know, did be? And dear,
dear, Mrs. Crisp, of all the mothers
inrlaw in the world, I shall love you
the best!”
Just then Alexander came in, and
nodded kindly toward the pair.
.“It wasn’t such a had idea, ’ said he
--^‘th'.s drawing lots for a wifel”—
, A
'* t * a *°' f“ k ' r ’
*° "“ ko ft big fortu “ e ;
-areyiWe for money now, but
7 ’It was a good many
T ' \ «° ]dob ^
numberless slope throng Armour Acre was searching g »e of for the
iSune paid no heed to hi.n, how
eV er, but liually he managed to get
some <. W vhings” that he sold for
$m . This sum ho carefully tied up
in an old cotton handkerchief for safe
keeping. Then lie hunted around for
a place to put it. liis eyes spied an
old and dilapidated coflec-pot in a cor¬
ner of the cabin lie occupied with
throe other seekers for fortune. He
put the $100.carefully in it and placed
It lovingly on li convenient.shelf; then
he went about his daily toil. When
ho returned from work liis eyes iu
' stinctively searched for tho old pot.
'< was gone!
line of liis partners had tired of
work and come home. He had noth¬
ing eltV to do, so lie went to clean
house. The old coffee-pot went with
tlie rubbish, and a lire, was made of it
all iu a little clump of bushes near by.
Great was the consternation when
Armour told what tlie pot contained.
Fiuaily lie reached it, blackened and
bent, hut the -money was intact, and
no happier man slept in tlie diggings
that night. Thereafter lie carried it
around wilii him in a belt.
And that $100 was the foundation
of tho Armour millions.— [Savannah
News.
r
To Make Boots Water-Proof
Soak tho soles with pine tar well
rubbed in before a fire so as to soften
the tar. The tar is applied until the
leather will absorb no more, The
soles become hard aud tough and im¬
penetrable by water. For the uppers
use the following mixture: Four
ounces of tallow, one ounce of bees¬
wax melted, add sufficient castor oil
,to make a soft paste and lampblack to
Qolor it. This is rubbed into the dry
lei xther before a fire until it will ab
t or b no more; the leather is then
s poi’ged with warm water, which
d riva » in the oil.—[New York Times.
Emperor and Cripple.
A stal ue recently set up at Kaiscr
s Lutern, .Germany, in memory of the
1 *teEtnpea°r Frederick, has a
1 lilitory. Yt'ars ago Frederick, then
( "mown PrincC? visited the Children’s
hospital there, and in his kindly way
rretit about talking to the little ones.
Among them was a cripple whose
some tho Prince asked, and when the
Hod shyly said “Frederick,” the Prince
(took his little namesake in his arms
»caressingly. The incident is repro
iduced iu the statue, which stands in
| tke hospital yard, close by the spot
where it occurred.
Vol. X. New Series. NO. 46
ALPHONSO XIII.
The Daily Life of the Child
King of Spain Described.
Generous by Nature, and Pos¬
sessed of a Hearty Appetite.
The liltte King of Spain, Alphonso
XIII., according to a recent letter
from St. Sebastian, grows in beauty
and intelligence every day. Ho lias
been quick to pul off the habits of an
infant and dou instead those of matur¬
ing childhood. Alphonso sets a good
example to liis subjects, childish and
otherwise, by rising at 7 o'clock hi the
morning. He at once takes a kith
under the superintendence of his
nunse, to whom lie is so devoted that
it has been diyuned wiso to retain her
in the household.
At 7.30, his toilet being made, he
goes out for an airing in the Ayete
Park, and it is there, with the fresh
breezes of the morning as an appetiz¬
er, that he takes liis breakfast—a
simple cup of chocolate and a biroche.
Prom that time until midday he re¬
mains in the park, running about,
making mud pies and indulging in
other engrossing sports of early child¬
hood, while the warm Spanish sun is
tinting his pale little face with faint
roses and bronze. When the midday
angelus sounds from the church
towers of St. Sebastian, it is also the
signal for the midday meal or meat
breakfast taken in liou of luncheon in
many of tlie Continental countries.
This repast is quite imposing for the
little King, for it is enjoyed in the
company of his mother and his two
sisters, while all the rigors of the
Spanish court etiquette aro observed.
Breakfast over, all Spain takes a
siesta and the littlo King’s head nods
with the rest of liis sleepy subjects.
Ilfs nurse ftikes him in her tu rns and
sings him to sleep with the wild,sweet
strains of the gypsy lullabies crooned
iu the mountain fastnesses of Central
Spain. At 4 o'clock King Alphonso
is awake again. It is time for tho
state promenade. Madam Tacou, the
Court governess, and General Cordor
ba, military chief of the King’s house¬
hold, accompany him in this function.
The little King lias an intense childish
admiration for the brass buttons, the
sword and the splendid uniform of
tlie General, and in order to please
him he lias been made a like outfit in
which lie takes great pleasure. He
loves to hold the massive cane which
the General always carries, and march
soldier fashion, with mimic strides, in
front of liis suite.
The walk is always on some high¬
way, and the populace come in crowds
to cheer and greet the baby Mug. lie
receives their salutations with great
gravity and never fails to respond.
Generous by nature, lie fills his little
pockets with small coins, bright and
fresh from the mint, stamped iu bis
likeness. These he distributes right
and left to tho numerous beggary that
crowd the way, calling, as he slnwers
on them the royal bounty, “Tonia!”
(take!). Sometimes the expedition is
taken in a carriage, but every day this
airing forms a part of the routine of
the King’s life. At 6 he returns to
the palace, ’ where his mother is iu
waiting for him.
Tlie King has a most remarkable ap¬
petite, and tlie regular life with its
many hours of outdoor exercise has
increased this faculty. He eats all
and as much as he wants. One day
liis governess told him that he should
not eat of a certain dish because it was
bad for him. “Then why did you put
it before me?” was the poser pro¬
pounded by the little kingly gour¬
mand. His tastes run to all sorts
of queer food, and among other
things he has a strange fancy for sau¬
sage, which he cats in large quantities.
His mind is untutored—lie does not
know liis letters and all mental educa
tion is forbidden. His mother is de
termined that liis body alone shall be
trained, at least for the present. “He
is to be made a manthese are the
Queen’s orders. His severe illness of
last year has made Queen ChriBtine
extremely cautious. His mind must
not be fatigued. Fresh air, exercise,
baths and the utmost freedom are the
bases of his regimen, which seems to
have brought life back into the feeble
frame of the puny King. Alphonso,
however, is extremely precocious, and
his intelligence, and comprehension are
wonderful in a child of his years.
At 8 precisely he retires. He em¬
braces his mother, and with a quaint
little “Good night, gentlemen,” to the
members of his suite, he is led away
to his royal crib by tho Countess de
Peralta, the official nurse. She undress¬
es him and listens to his infant prattle
while he tells her of the many experi¬
ences of the day. Then his real nurse,
who sleeps always by his bedside,
lakes him in her arms. The palace is
silent, and her thin, quavering voice
can he heard singing in queer'minor
cadence a Spanish lullaby.
Thus the King of Spain falls Into
slumber, and as his sleep-song ceases,
His Majesty’s sentinels pace with
heavy steps outside the walls of the
palace, and during the long watches of
the night repeat the hours w it li a deep
toned “Alerta”—“guards, be careful”
—as they meet each oilier in their
rounds.—[Paris Figaro.
Birds That Kill Rattlesnakes.
In eastern Arizona, along the hot,
burning trnils one often secs a long¬
billed, long-legged specimen of bird
racing ou in front. Generally there
are two of them. They are garrulous
and communicative, and as they hurry
on they gossip with each other in jerky,
str'dent tones which give the impres¬
sion of inferior brain power. These
are “road-runners,” and a stuffed spec¬
imen with wings upraised and mouth
half open can be seen in the window
of a local gun store. They earn their
name by thus running for hours along
the trail in front of your peny. T.iey
have no air of fear, but keep your
company in a jaunty, confident way,
as if they knew it delighted you.
■These go-as-you-please birds go
about conspiring the overthrow of the
rattlesnakes. They have formulated a
simple, easy plan which all worthy
road runners possess full knowledge
of, and it 4ever fttiil*. Thrtv find
rattlesnake enjoying his siesta; no
hard matter, as he sleeps most of his.
lime. Ou discovering him the feathered
assassins become very silent. They
go about with, hushed and cautious
steps. With bitter zeal they begiu tho
collection of pieces of cactus.
These are furnished abundantly
with thorns keener than steel needles.
They make a small but complete cor¬
ral around tho dreaming reptile.' He
is absolutely fenced in with cacti to a
height of two or three inches. This
feat a fact, the road runners throw oil
disguise and secrecy. They charge
about outside the fence clamorous and
flapping their wings. The rattlesnake
awakes. They revile and scoff at him
and no doubt tell him of outrage done
on tho eggs of ancestral road runners.
Irritated and possibly somewhat dis¬
mayed, the serpent, attempts to make
off. He gels to t ha cactus barrier and
essays to cross it. Tlie conspirators
outside redouble their yells and wing¬
flapping. They get around in his
frout and storm him with insult and
As ho attempts to cross, the spines,
sharper than he thought, wound liis
throat, which on the under side is
quite tender. He draws back, his
temper beginning to rouse under the
wounds of the cacti and the racket of
the birds. He tries to get out, one,
two, three, four times. Each painful
failure sees his rage increase, His
eyes become damp, liis head flattens,
and dirty spots of dingy white occur
on his body. At last, foiled and wild
with rage, hes rikeshis poison-flowing
fangs into himself. Soon after. he
dies, while the fiendish road runners
shout their satisfaction. They remain
until the rattlesnake is quite dead, and
then depart, arm in arm, as it were,
talking it over in a light, exultant
way.—[Kansas City Star.
Sex Predetermined by Poor Food.
In a review of our scant knowledge
concerning sexes, Herr G. Herz favors
a theory of Fiqnet, a cattle farmer of
Houston, Texas, who had observed
that the sex of young cattle was usu
ally that of the weaker parent. Dif¬
ference iu the strength of parents was
produced by feeding, and in thirty
two cases the sex of calves was suc
cessfnlly predetermined, Herz has
met with tho same results in ex¬
periments ou goats—[Trenton (N. J.)
American.
It is only one persou in a thousand
who becomes a centenarian, and
hardly six persons among a thousand
even attain seventy-five yearr of age.
