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The Jacksonian. (Jackson, Ga.) 1907-1907, May 10, 1907, Image 2

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“ONE OF THE BOYS.” fie is ’wav beyond fifty, his hair’s turning gray, But still he can laugh in the joliiest way: He hasn't forgotten the fun in a jpst; He tells the old stories with heartiest zest, He knows all the new ones; he likes lots of noise— Somehow he has managed to stay with the boys. Whv. he can get up in the gray of the dawn, Ann be out on the road ere the others have gone. With his pole and his line —and he laughs long and deep At the ones who say morning’s the best time to sleep. He is out with the boys, and not one of them peers At the wrinkles and crow’s feet that tell of his years. He is ready to romp, or to hunt, or to ride— He has never sat silent and moody, and sighed Over vanishing youth or the days of his past, 1 For he says that the days of the boytime can last •Just as long as we will, that we never need part With the wonderful thrill that they give to the heart. He will lie on his hack in the shade of the trees And declare that he knoivs what is sung bv the liees, And he mimi''s the whistles and calls of the birds, Which, lie says, if he liked, he could nut into words. He would rather spend hours on the banks of the brook Where the berries are red, than be reading a book. He is ’way beyond fifty, and folks think that he ought To devote lots of time to myre serious thought— But they wonder at him. and they envy him, too, For he’s living to-day all the days they once knew; He lias never lost heart with the chiefest of joys, He has kept a young heart—lie is one of the boys. —Wilbur D. Nesbit, in the Chicago Evening Post. ; Sarah Brown’s Effort. \ By ELIZABETH I. SAMUEL. “Present,”said Sarah Brown. Then under her breath she whispered, “Six!” Only six more days to hear that name called first, flow she hated It! Every time that the roll had been read since the spring vacation she had counted off one. Six days more, and then? She could not get beyond the Interrogation point and the “then.” The other girls—there were five girls and Dick Thurston in the class —knew what they could do. Helen Burton was to teach school; Marga ret Harvey was going to college; Mary Davidson planned to study kin dergarten, and pretty Gertrude Hall was to be a milliner. Dick Thurston had refused to go to college, so he knew what he would not do. For Sarah Brown there seemed to be neither could nor would. The sit uation was as hopeless as her name. She had time to think this over be fore the roll was finished. Then she shook herself free from her reflec tions and banished her name to the background of consciousness, while she plunged into the last oration of Cicero. To-day was the day for spe cial examinations by Mr. Thatcher. The minister was always the exam iner; that was a tradition of the school. It was over at last. Sarah held up her head with pride as she went out into the yard. Never had she done so well in Latin as she had done that afternoon. Suddenly she remembered that she had left her algebra in the dressing loom and went back to get it. She bad put it on top of the wardrobe for safe keeping, and as she stepped up on a chair to get it she heard Mr. Thatcher say, “What do you think of Sarah Brown?” She heard, too, Mr. Raymond’s an swer: “I’m afraid she tries to get a little more out of life than she is will ing to put In.” The color mounted to her forehead, her blue eyes flashed and she almost jumped from the chair. The she stepped down, rushed out of the door, and did not stop until she reached the top of the hill behind her father's house. “I'm discouraged,” she said, “ab solutely, completely, entirely!” Then her vocabulary and her breath both failed, and she threw herself down under the old pine, that always stood ready to give her the consolation of Its shelter. “Willing (o put in!” Was that not the very thing that she was so un happy about? Just give her a chance! After a little she straightened her self and reviewed the situation. It did not improve on review. Never bad the sum total of her discourage ments seemed so great. There was only the old housekeeper at home — of course her father wquld not under stand. “111 go to see Aunt Prue,” she said. Having reached this conclusion she went in to supper. Prudence Hathaway was conil dante-in-general to the village. She said there were two reasons why everybody came to her house; one w r as because of the position of her bouse, and the other was because she was almost always at home. Her cottage stood between the church and the academy, and she was always at home because site could rnyve about only in her wheel chair. That she was not a passive receiver of confidences might have been in ferred from a look at her strong, beautiful face, and evidence of this was not wanting, /for Dick Thurston —motherless Dick —said, "Sometimes she's a regular bar of justice; some times she preaches you a sermon. Von never know which is coming." Sarah's face was so rueful when she entered the little sitting room iliut no preliminaries ware needed. “All the vest c£ the girls are going to do something after they leave school, and I’ve nothing todo but settle down and stay at home. And I wish my name vjiisn’t Sarah Brown!” “Do you think that you would be a different girl if you had a different name?” ‘‘Yes, I do.” “Why not choose one?” asked Aunt Prue. “Choose—a name?” “Yes. Fathers and mothers give their children names just to get them started, but we all choose our own names in the end.” "Tell me, Aunt Prue.” “If J had a name that I didn’t like i should establish a synonym.” “I'm sure I shouldn’t know where to start to establish a synonym for Sarah Brown.” “You might start almost anywhere. Sarah Brown, might lie somebody’s word for cheerfulness, for instance.” “Oh! I see.” “You can't be sure yourself what your synonym will be. but Sarah Brown will stand for something to everybody that knows you.” “I think Dick would say that I'm in for the sermon, don’t you, aunty?” “What was my text?” “Putting in. 1 must go now. Good night, Aunt Prue!” A weary head lay on Sarah’s pil low that night. The weariness of eighteen may be as the weariness of eighty, for the tide of life is greater. Sarah had not been comforted, and she was hardly ready to be urged on. But morning brought courage, and a resolution shaped itself. ''l’ll try,” she said. Then her eye fell on the journal that she had be gun at New Year's. “Make a record of your efforts, Sa rah Brown!” she exclaimed. “If you can t stand for anything else you can stand for effort. Go on,* Sarah Brown!” "I wonder what Mrs. Wilson would give as my synonym,” she said to her self as she went down stairs. “I think I'll start her on cheerfulness.” She smiled rather grimly at the thought. But her smile was pleasant when she went into the dining room, and she talked to her father a little more than usual. Having made this effort she found herself looking and the result of her search appeared when she told Mrs. Wilson that she would dust the parlor every day. “Now I’ll go over to see Margaret,” she said when the last chair was dusted. As she was starting, Mrs. Wilson asked her to do an errand for her. For a moment Sarah rebelled at the hindrance to her plan, but she re membered her determination, and an swered with at least a degree of wil lingness. "Looks as if you would have to keen this thing up, Sarah Brown. Then's some kind of a law about bodies that can’t stop if they once j get started. Good use to make of my j training in physics, so long as I can't | make any other use of It.” There were days, however, when she seemed almost to stop, but the record of her efforts served to steady her purpose. One night, as she wrote in her jour nal, “Took care of the little children at the picnic while Aunt Prue read to the rest,” obeying a sudden im pulse she signed her name, ’’Sarah Brown.” The name seemed to mean something. Margaret asked her once in a letter filled with an account of her own work at college, what she was doing to keep up her English, and she wrote, smiling over it, “I’m doing j special work in synonyms.” j ller chiet "effort" during the win . ter was an eld woman who lived a mile from the village, whose un happy disposition offered a special op ; port unity for conquest. Sarah had ' determined to make her smile. Late one afternoon, when she was hurrying home from a visit to this woman, she heard a call for help. Looking toward the river she saw that someone had broken through the ice. She ran down the bank, and found chat it was Dick Thurston. “Help a fellow out, can’t you, Sa rah? I’m caught here. Get a fence rail or something, quick.” She found a rail, and soon Dick was safe. “How long had you been there?” she asked. “Seems as if I’d been there half an hour,” answered Dick, “but I sup pose I hadn’t. I can tell you one thing, Sarah Erown, if you hadn’t come along I should never had got out alive! ” Everybody talked about how Sa rah Brown had saved Dick Thurston from drowning, but Sarah wrote in her journal that night, “Went out and spent the afternoon with old Mrs. Davis. Made her smile.” It was some time before Dick was out again. Then he went to see Aunt Prue. He talked to her a few min utes, then went to the window, so that she could not see his face. “I j told father this morning that I would j go to college,” he said. “How did you happen to change your mind?” “Another result of being nearly drowned. The fact is, Aunt Prue, that when a fellow is up to his neck in cold water, with a prospect of go ing under, he is likely to change his mind about many things. They look different.” “I’m ever so glad that you are go ing, Dick.” But Dick, suspecting that the con versation might become personal, re membered his appointment with the doctor, but he added as he went: “When you have a fellow that you can’t manage, Aunt Pr-ue, just drown him temporarily. He’ll change his point of view.” In the spring vacation Margaret called a class meeting. The girls were surprised when Dick appeared. “Heard you were going to talk over experiences,” he said, “so I’ve come, for I’ve had an experience.” As Sarah listened to the other girls she felt that she had little to say, and a touch of her old discour agement came over her. When her turn came she said, “I’ve done a little of everything ” “Such as saving a fellow from drowning,” cried Dick, springing to his feat. “Allow me, ladies, to in troduce Sarah Brown, heroine.” “But I never believed that you would have drowned, Dick,” said Sa rah. “It's very humiliating, girls. Sa rah never did make anything of sav ing me from a watery grave. Per haps when I’m on the Supreme bench shell point to me with pride, and say, ‘I saved the judge from drown ing.’ Anyway, I’m going to college, and the cold water and Sarah Brown did it.” “See here, Sarah Brown,” said Mary Davidson,' “I’ve an account to settle with you. I thought people were going to miss us girls when we went away, but wj en'l asked mother who took my place in the library, she said, ‘Sarah Brown.’ I haven’t asked about anything else that we, girls used to do that she hasn’t answered, ‘Sarah Brown.’ ” “That’s so,” said Margaret. “I can’t see that we’ve any of us been been missed.” “I’ve only done things as they came along,” said Sarah, half in apol ogy, hut down in her heart she was glad. Just before commencement Judge Thurston sent for Mr. Thatcher and Mr. Raymond. “I’m getting to he an old man,” he said, “and I want to invest my prop erty in something that will bring re turns after I’m gone. I want to in vest it in lives,” he went on. “I love the old academy, and I’ve decided to establish a fund to send ona graduate of the school to college every four years. It seems to me that I should like the first one to be a member of my grandson’s class" —the judge had been watching Sarah Brown —“and I want you to advise with me as to who shall be sent.” Mr. Raymond looked at the minis- I ter. The minister said, “There’s Sarah Brown.” "Yes," said Mr. Raymond, “I don't know anybody who would make a greater effort or do the academy greater 'credit. ” "I am glad you both agree with me." said the judge.—Youth’s Com panion. A Useful Invention. “John Henry,” she said, “I want you to clear those ashes out of the basement this very morning." "But, my dear," he protested, “we cannot afford to throw ashes away. Didn't you read about the invention for burning them? They give out ten times more tieat than .the original coal.” This won a span of. silence. “That may be a fake invention,” muttered the man. “but'it's a pretty 1 good thing.”—Philadelphia Ledger. Budapest is one of the few clean cities iu the world. PRESENT IN THE SPIRIT Though Men Were Out of the State at Time of Murder, They Will Be Tried Just the Same. William D. Haywood, secretary and treasurer of the Western Federation of Miners, will the current week be placed on trial at Boise, Idaho, charg ed with the murder of ex-Governor Frank Stounenberg. In all four men are in custody with the same of- fense. They are William D. Hay wood, Charles H. Moyer, president of the Western Federation of Miners; George A. Pettibone, former member of the executive board, and Harry Orchard, a member of the miners’ fed eration. Of these men Orchard, it is alleged, has made a confession, in which he admits that he killed the former gov- I ernor, and in the same confession, it is alleged, implicates the other men under arrest, together with oth ers as being accessories before the fact. Under the laws of the state of Idaho, while it is admitted that Hay wood, Moyer and Pettibone were not in the state of Idaho at the time of the murder, they are charged with the actual murder, the contention un der the statute being that they were on the spot in spirit, that they plan ned, and, therefore, compassed the death of Governor Steunenberg. In its main and lateral branches the complete history of the case extends back to the early period of conflict between union and non-union miners in the Coeur D’Aline district of Idaho, that narrow strip of mountainous country, rich in lead and silver ore, under the shadow of the great divide between Idaho and Montana. The background to the Steunenberg case is the momentous struggles in the Coeur D’Alines, extending as it did over a period of seven years and involving the calling out of the state militia and finally the dispatch of United States troops by President Mc- Kinley to the scene of conflict, cen tering around the mining towns of | Wallace, Gemm and Wardnex - . To the part that the dead governor played in these stirring days, fur nishing, as he did, an example fol lowed later by the governor of Colo rado, the prosecution goes for motive charged against the accused. It is alleged that for pui-poses of recenge as evidence of unrelenting determina tion to carry on a campaign of ter roi'ism, to impress with power, daring and loyalty on and retain the moral and financial support and fealty of - 32,000 followers, the members of an “inner circle” of the Western Fed eration of Miners planned and execut ed a long series of nnxrdei's and acts of violence, medieval in concetnion and nihilistic in execution. These ci'imes, it is alleged, can be traced down through the last fifteen years, through the days of the “bud pen” stockade, in which several un ion miners were impi’isoned in 1599, under guard of United States troops, again to the great Cripple Creek strike and the more recent struggle in Colorado. Geographically the ac tion is confined chiefly to Colorado and Idaho, but Montana, Utah, Ne vada and California are also states in which were enacted portions of the tragedy. The murder of Steunenberg is a piv otal point in the history of this, the most remarkable case in American jurisprudence, for the events develop backward and forward from his as sassination. Steunenberg was blown to death on the evening of December 30, 1905. In the gathering glocm of a stormy even ing, he entered the side gate of his residence at Caldwell, Idaho, where, retired from politics, he lived the sim ple life of a sheep farmer. A bomb# of peculiar manufacture, with a string attached, was sunk iu the snow beside the gate, the string, a piece of fish line, being fastened to tiie gate. As Steunenberg entered the opening of the gate sprung the trigger o: the bomb. He was terribly mangled, be ing blown nearly 15 feet from the gate. GRAFTER STRUCK IT RICH. Was Paid $90,748 on Contract Calling for Expenditure of $2,260. According to the advance report of the auditors of the capital investigate ing committee at Harrisburg, Pa., Jncj H. Sanderson & Cos., Philadelphia were paid $117,258 for the of the house caucus room of capitol "i-d SSB.’J42 for riie funJS, of rio loom, Th ’ mos; o:. furr.j® roon v r ■ :.. . A jUI * ‘ HIGHT OF WAVES. Frenchman Says Observation From the Decks of Ships Has Created an Illusion. M. Bertin, a Frenchman, has been making new observations of the size of ocean billows. He says they are greatly over-estimated when the term “mountainous” is applied to them. The longest waves he measured were 2,590 feet (from crest to crest, he says, and their average duration was 23 seconds. They were not very high, only about 50 feet or one-fiftieth of their span. Indeed, he is of opinion that the greatest height ever reached by waves in open water is fifty feet, and he accounts for higher estimates by say ing that they have heretofore been observed for the most part from the decks df ships, and the perspective effect resulting from looking up along the slopes has misled the eye and judgment. When waves become breakers, striking against some obstacle, there is no doubt that great masses of water are hurled to a height of 100 feet and volumes of spray are flung and blown still higher. Very few waves 2,500 feet long and 50 feet high are ever encountered, he adds. In average ibad weather tne waves run from 160 to 320 feet from crest to crest and their height seldom exceeds 33 feet. Their duration is not over 6 to 8 seconds. Hammer Oldest Implement, The hammer, besides being a tool of universal use, 'is probably the old est representative of a mechanic s tool kit. The hammer was originally a stone (fastened to a handle with thongs, and, it was as useful as a weapon as a tool. Hammers are represented on the monuments of Egypt twenty centuries before our era. They greatly resem ble the hammer now in use, save that there w r ere no claws on the back for the extraction of nails. Claw ham mers were invented some time during the Middle Ages. Illuminated manu scripts of the eleventh century repre sent carpenters with claw hammers. Hammers are of all sizes, from the dainty instruments used by the jewel ler. which weigh less than half an ounce, to the gigantic fifty ton ham mer of shipbuilding establishments, some of which have a falling force of from ninety to 100 tons. Every trade has its own hammer and its own way of using it. —Baltimore Sun. MORE BOXES OF GOLD And Many Greenbacks. 525 boxes of Gold and Greenbacks will be sent to persons who write the most interesting and truthful letters of experience on the following topics. 1. How have you been affected by coffee drinking and by changing from coffee to Postum? 2 Give name and account of one or "more coffee drinkers who have been hurt by it and have been in duced to quit and use Postum. 3. Do you know any one who has been driven away from Postum be cause it came to the table weak and characterless at the fiist tzial. 4. Did you set such a.person right, regarding the easy way to make it clear, black and with a snappy, rich tclstG ? 5. Have you ever found a better wav' to make it than to use four heap ing teaspoonfuls to the pint of water, let stand on stove until real boiling begins, and beginning at that time when actual boiling starts, boll full 15 r.inutes more to extract the flavor and food value. (A piece of butter the size of a pea will prevent boiling over). This contest is confined to those who have used Postum prior to the date of this advertisement. Be honest and truthful, don’t write poetry or fanciful letters, just plain, truthful statements. Contest will close June Ist, 1907, and no letters received after that date will be admitted. Examinations of letters will be made by three judges, not members of the Postum Cereal Cos., Ltd. Their decisions will be fair and final, and a neat little box containing a $lO gold piece sent to each of the five writers of the most interesting letters, a box containing a $5 gold piece ta each of the 20 next best, a $2 greenback to each of the 100 next best, and a $1 greenback to each of the 200 next best, making cash prizes distributed to S2 5 per sons. Every friend of Postum is urged to write, and each letter will he held in high esteem by the company, as an evidence of such friendship, while the little boxes of gold and envelopes of money will rettifli many modest writers whose plain and sensible let- As contain the facts desired, al- HW>ugh the sender may have but ||di faith in winning at the time of ■Ling. Ik this subject over with your see how many among ■gLin : • V Ejfru,