Newspaper Page Text
The Right Will Right Itself.
When overcome with anxious fears
And moved with passion strong,
Because the right seems losing ground
And everything goes wrong,
How oft does admonition say:
“Put trouble on the shelf;
fc'ruth will outlive the liar's day,
Aud Right will rigid itself!”
By all the triumphs of the past,
By all the victories won.
I’he good achieved, the progress made
Each day from sun to sun;
In spite of artful ways employed
By perfidy or pelf.
Of one thing we can rest assured,
The Right will right itself!
Unshaken in our faith and zeal,
’Tis ours to do and dare,
To find the place we best can fill,
And serve our Maker there;
For he is only brave who thus
Puts trouble on the shelf,
And trusts in Ood, for by IIU aid
The Right will right itself.
— [.Josephine Pollaidin the Ledger.
WHAT THE WOMEN DID.
■JY HELEN FORREST GRAVES.
It was oue of those June days when
the wild roses dye all the woods with
deepest pink and the farmer begins
meditatively to decide which of his
fields will first be ripe for the glitter¬
ing scythe.
Mr. Chipfield sat by the window,
with his farm calendar and account-
books piled upon the low wooden sill,
a stumpy pen in his hand and a cone-
shaped glass inkstand on the table be¬
fore him.
A close prisoner within his house
from acute rheumatism, he yet ruled
his domain with a rod of iron, and
boasted that everything on the farm
went by clockwork, the same as if he
were able personally to supervise it.
He was a small, sallow man with
bead-like black eyes, close-cut hair and
a grim, Napoleonic jaw.
By the opposite door 6at Mrs. Chip-
field, a clean gingham apron tied hur¬
riedly over her charming costume,
while Joanna, her red-cheeked sister,
leaned over the back of her chair. The
minister stood in the middle of the
room, a paper in his hand.
“It’s a very commendable purpose,
Brother Chipfield,” said he. “These
poor creatures have long needed a
chapel in their midst, and it’s aw out¬
rage longer to neglect it. How much
shall I put you down for?”
• “For nothing at all,” said Mr. Chip-
field.
“Eh?” said the minister.
“I can't afford no such luxury as
domestic missions,” said Mr. Chip-
field. “Times are hard. Farm pro¬
duce is low- No, you needn’t put my
name down at all, parson.”
Mr. Clover turned to Mrs. Chip-
field.
“Generally,” said he, “the ladies
are more generous, What AVill you
give me, Sister Chipfield?”
“I haven’t a cent to give,” faltered
Mrs. Chipfield, with an appealing
glance at her husband. “Chipfield
buys every yard of calico I wear and
gives me every cent I send out for
yeast.”
The minister looked very grave.
“And you. Miss Joanna?” said lie.
“I'd give you a hundred dollars,Mr.
CloA'er, if I had it, cried Joanna,
blushing to the roots of her shining,
chestnut brown hair. “But the poor¬
est beggar in the city streets ain’t poor¬
er than I am.”
“Humph!” said Mr. Clover, “where
shall I find Mr. Zephaniah Gedney?”
There Avas a moment’s silence. Mr.
Chipfield stared straight out of the
window. Mrs. Chipfield turned her
face away. Joanna Gedney was the
one to speak at last.
“We don't know,” said she. “He
went away this morning, Seth told
him he wouldn’t have him idling
round the place no longer.”
“I sup; ose he would have worked
if he could find something to do,” said
Mr. Clover.
“This ain’t no house of refuge for
all the drones iu creation,” said Mr.
Chipfield, with the Napoleonic jaw set
square and firm. “Them that won't
work, neither shall they eat.”
Mrs. Chipfield’s apron was at her
eyes. Joanna bit her lip.
The minister gathered his papers to¬
gether and departed, not greatly en¬
couraged by the success of his mission
in this especial household.
‘What are you standing there for,
Mary?” said Mr. Chipfield, harshly.
♦‘Ain’t that there churning sp’iling?
Go and drive the red calf outen the
truck-garding, Joanna, as quick as you
can!”
“Seth,” cried his wife, with a sud¬
den accession of courage, “I wb^i
you'd do like Squire Staples, and give
me an allowance, that I could maybe
save out of.”
“And 1 wish,” valiantly added Jo¬
anna, “that you’d pay me fair wages
for what I do in this house over and
above my board’s worth. 1 declare, I
felt justlike a pauper just now!”
Seth Chipfield snarled like an ill-
conditioned dog.
“Because Squire Staples is a fool,”
said he, “that’s no season I should be
one. And as for you, Joanna Gcd-
ney, if you don’t like stayin’ in my
house on these terms, you can leave
it. It passes me what use you wo¬
men can have for money. You'd only
waste it if you had it. I can't trust
neither of you with no sum bigger
than a dime!”
Joanna’s eyes flashed.
“You’re a mean, stingy miser, Seth
Chipfield!” said she. “Mary is tied
to you. She can’t go and leave you,
but I can, and I will! And if you
want a drudge in your kitchen after
this, you can hire one!”
Joanna Gedney wus as good as her
word. She left the house that even-
ing, but on the morrow she was
obliged to return to her sister’s aid.
Seth Chiptield’s ailment had suddenly
taken an inflammatory turn. He was
confined to his bed, helpless as a log.
“It’s a judgment on him,” said the
girl.
“Oh, Joanna, don’t talk so!” said
meek Mrs. Chipfield.
But through all his pangs and tribu¬
lations, Seth adhered to his financial
policy and dealt out the funds, penny
by penny, as they were needed.
“Women hain’t no business idees,”
said he. “You need to treat ’em jest
like they was children. Mary wouldn’t
know what to do with a big sum of
money, if she had it. As for the farm,
if Peter Prickett can't come to look
arter it, I s’pose you’ll have to send for
Zephaniah again.”
“Zephaniah’s clerking it, down at
the new store,” said Joanna, who just
then came in with a bowl of chicken
broth.
“What new store?”
“One that they’ve opened down at
the cross roads.”
“A pretty clerk they’ll have,”
snarled Seth. “I’d advise ’em to get
ready for bankruptcy, an’—ow!
there’s no need to scald a fellow’s
throat with your boiling hot stutt', Jo¬
anna! Who’s been fool enough to
open a store at Hawley’s old stand?
Whoever it is ’ll make a dead failure,
that’s sartain!”
“They say it’s doing a good busi¬
ness,” observed Joanna, stirring the
broth around to cool it.
“Don’t you never believe ‘they
say!’” growled Seth.
The next day bad tidings came to
them. The Necker Banking Com¬
pany, in which Chipfield’s little sav¬
ings were invested, had closed its
doors. The Wilding Iron Syndicate,
to join which he had mortgaged his
farm, had deserted its shafts, left its
derricks standing like skeletons
against the mountain side and dis¬
solved into thin air.
Seth heard the news silently.
“Mary, ’ said he, “give me the old
pistol that belonged to Great-uncle
Jeduthum. I may as well clean and
oil it, lyin’ here with nothing to do.”
“I won’t give it to you, Seth Chip-
field !” said his wife. “I can read your
eyes, if I can’t trust your voice; and
you shan't have Great-uncle Jedu-
thum’s pistol!’’
Seth turned his face aside. A tear,
salt as the Dead Sea and bitter as gall,
crept down his wrinkled face.
“If a man’s ruined,” said he, “the
best thing he can do will be to die!
Oh, what a fool I’ve been—what a
fool!”
Joanna Gedney Aivatched him in-
tently.
“I guess likely you wish noAv,” said
she, “you’d subscribed somethin’ to
Mr. Clover s mission, and laid pipes to
the well to save Mary carrying water
up the hill, and bought her the black
silk gown she wanted—”
“Don’t! Joanna!” pleaded Mrs.
Chipfield.
“Yes, I do,” said Seth. “There,
now—I wish it like all everlasting!
The old farm will have to go, Mary,
You and Joanner ’ll have to go out to
service, and me— Well, there’s always
the town-hou9e for me. I’ve brought
it on myself!”
“Seth,” cried Mrs. Chipfield, “don’t
take on so! The farm won’t have to
go. Me and Joanna will take care o'
that. And there ain’t no question of
the poor-house for you. Tell him,
Joanna—tell him what we've done!”
“It was my plan,” said Joanna,
“but Mary she joined into it, and
Zephaniah he backed us up. It’s our
store down at the Cross Hoads, Seth,
and 1 bought the goods down in Phila¬
delphia, and hired the house and put
Zephaniah in to clerk it. And we’ve
doubled our money a’ready, Seth, for
all you used so often to declare that
women hadn't no business ideas; and
we’ve done a capital business in cali¬
coes and crockery and canned things
and Yankee notions. And we've paid
back all we borrowed of Squire Sta¬
ples, and got a nice little sum of
money in the bank a'ready—our own
money, Seth, that we don't have to go
begging to no man arter. And you
needn’t fret about the mortgage and
the Wilding Company and the poor-
house, for Mary and mo will take care
of you!”
Seth Chipfield gave a little gasp.
“You — ain’t —jokin’—be — you?’
said he.
“I’ll show you the bank-books, if
you want,” said Joanna, briskly.
“Ah, Seth, you never had no respect
for what you used to call our money
faculty, but Mary and I know what
colors women liked in their gowns,
and what the best brand in flannels
was, and which pattern in bowls and
tea saucers was fancied most at Hill
Hollow! “We ain’t a bad pair of mer¬
chants; give us plenty o’money and
discretion combined to use.”
Mary Chipfield looked wistfully at
her husband as Joanna went away to
produce the volichers for her words,
in the shape of leather-bound bank¬
books.
“Seth,” faltered she, “you ain’t
mad with me, be you? But Joanna,
she planned it all out, and I was so
put to it for a little money to spend
“Mad with you?” repeated Oeth.
“I’m mad with myself. I jest wish I
could undo all the last ten years!”
He lay quite silent for some time.
Then he spoke up.
“If I had jest a hundred dollars left
outen the ruin,” said he, “I know
what I’d do with it.”
“What?” asked Mary, who was si¬
lently rubbing his pain-swollen joint!
with liniment.
“I’d send for the parson, and give it
to him for that ’ere mission. When a
fellow has turned his back on the
Lord he can’t expect the Lord to look
out for him.”
“There needn't be no ‘if’ in the
matter, Seth,” said his wile. “Me
and Joanna will draw out the money
you want any time you say.”
“Yes, that we will,” acquiesced
Joanna, eagerly.
Seth Chipfield lifted his eyes re*
morseful ly to her face.
“You ain't following my example,’’
said he. i 4 I Avouldn’t let you have
nothin’ to subscribe.”
Joanna laughed cheerily.
“We'll let bygones be bygones,”
said she, “if only you’ll own up,Seth,
that women can manage money.”
And Seth “owned up."’—[Saturday
Night.
Glimpses of the Sultan’s Treasures.
In a letter from Bucharest, Colonel
A. Loudon Snowden, United States
minister to Greece, Servia aud liou-
mauia, gives the following account of
an experience in the far East:
“On my way here I stopped over in
Constantinople for a feAV days, visit¬
ing the objects of interest in that re¬
markable city. The Sultan designated
an aide-de-camp, avIio conducted us to
such places of especial interest as the
general A’isitor is not expected or per¬
mitted to see. The treasure house of
(jj e Sultan, Avhich contains the ac-
cumulations of centuries, is simply in-
j e scribable. Here are stored dia-
mon ds, emeralds, pearls, and other
precious stones, such as exist in no
other p]ace in the wor ld, and in quan _
titles beyond calculation as to value.
The palaces on the Bosphorus are mar¬
vels of beauty and splendor.”
Encouraging.
Nimrod Stoutleigli—Any shooting
here, my boy?
Native—Yessir. Dad just shot a
man dressed like you.—[The Argosy.
THE LAST ROUND UP.
nd of Cattle Grazing on Land
Occupied by Indians.
A Ring of Horsemen Around
Twenty Acres of Cattle.
The last general round up ever to
be on Indian lands has been made. E.
M. Hewins, president of the Cherokee
Strip Live Stock Association, has
rounded his herd of six thousand cat¬
tle in the Osage Nation, which was the
only large herd in the Indian country
remaining. The round up will be re¬
membered as the end of cattle grazing,
not only in the Osage country, but
in all the territory heretofore leased
by the Indians to cattle men.
The spring round ups began on the
western edge of the “Cherokee strip.”
The rounders worked from pasture to
pasture eastward until the Osage Na¬
tion was reached and the end had
come.
On a recent Thursday all the cow¬
boys oil the Hewins ranch were in the
saddle at 4 o'clock, and by 11 o’clock
the sixty-five thousand acre pasture
had been thoroughly surrounded and
the cattle were gradually moving to¬
ward the centre of the range, where
the round up was to take place. By 9
o’clock nearly seven thousand cattle,
including strays, had been gathered
into a radius of about three miles
square. Then began the careful work
of closing in without causing a stam¬
pede. Slowly the cattle were brought
up over a raise, the summit of which
overlooked Alum Creek Valley, about
ten miles south of the northern Terri¬
torial boundary. Beyond the summit
was a basin forming a huge circle,
comprising an area containing about
four thousand acres, and in that the
round tip was to take place.
A moment later and a stampede
seemed inevitable. The steers had
sighted the grove of shade trees and
the daring and skilful riders were
scarcely seeu and nothing heeded as
the mad rush was made toward the
grove.
• Those of the spectators who had
seen such sights beiore knew at once
what the result would be, and they
immediately apprised the others that it
would be wise for everyone to make
hurried arrangements to climb the
nearest trees. And this was done
barely in time, for on came the herd
running madly, heeding nothing, un¬
til fully half of it had dashed across
and beyond the stream, raising a cloud
of dust that for a time obscured all
the surroundings, and laying waste all
that was in their way. After another
hour’s hard driving the entire herd
was again surrounded and forced into
submission down in the lowland.
When this was accomplished the
picture became intensely interesting.
The outsiders were indeed masters of
the situation as they patrolled the rear
line of tiie beard's onward march. A
hundred expert horsemen were then in
sitflit forming a ring on the outside of
the herd that \v T as meant to be and did
prove to be impassable. L .ch horse-
man led from tivo to three horses,
changing from time to time to a fresh
steed. All this time the “cut-out” ex-
perts leading these extra horses came
up leisurely in the rear. At ele\ r en
o’clock the round-up had been made
and the majority of the rounders gal¬
loped away toward the “chuck”
wagon for dinner, Avl.ile a feAV of their
number kept the herd from spreading.
The cattle were at this time thorough'
massed and standing side by side.
As they stood they covered an area
of from twenty to tAventy-five acres.
As they uioA*ed sIoavIv and restlessly
among each other they had the ap¬
pearance of a great SAvarm of bees.
Presently there began a concerted sIoav
movement called “milling,” and soon
the dust became so dense that the*
whole scene Avas enveloped, and not
eA*en the daring coAvboys could be
discerned. This Avas kept up for
about fifteen minutes, Avhen a passing
gust of wind bore the clouds of dust
west and revealed the herd once more
quieted and the cowboys in command.
— [New York Herald.
Favorably Impressed.
Interviewer— Are you favorably im¬
pressed with this country?
Eminent Lecturer—Very. I'm rak¬
ing in a thousand dollars a week.—
[New York Weekly.
Health Rules in Hot >V eut|l
A natural consequence of tij
extreme heat in Chicago r
pendence of people upon Physj
and the desire to secure medii
vice upon the care of the health
ing warm weather. Some of
received in physicians’
may be usefully considered •
parts of the country subject to
waves; even a reiteration 0 f
known health maxims is not sir
ous. The Chicago physicians
that it was a dangerous expert
try to keep cool by drinking a ) c
,
liquors, and this advice was tesh
the fact that more than half ofp
tints of sunstroke in that city ^ e .
customed to drink alcoholic liq^
Carbonated waters were reco !u
ed as excellent preventives. Mill
cold acid drinks, like lemonade
other fruit beverages, taken fr eo
ly and a little at a time, tvere
posed as healthful, but ice-water
placed under the ban of disam» * *—
Rules were made in regard to
proper kind of wearing apparel
the physicians declared that 1
clothes should not be worn, ganj biitl
light-colored, light-weight tvoj
should be chosen in warm
In mentioning the diet, it was J
asserted that much meat should J
eaten, but that vegetables and II
should form the warm weal
staples. |
One of the most important nJ
rules was that against mental amlj
sical exertion. In Chicago, where
is urged forward in an intense rid
for wealth, such advice would be
pecially necessary, but in all ty
American communities it is worth j
sideration. Even those summer
sorters who are supposed to find
as well as refreshment during thei
mer months are with
strained from pursuing pleasure wil
great amount of physical and mei
exertion. The energetic Ameri
temperament takes little account
weather changes, and medical wan
is particularly needed at this
the year.— [Boston Herald.
Millionaire and Bootblack.
A bootblack walked into the oi
of Mr. Armour, lie had none of
outfit with him, but the bootblacki
stamped In his face and all over
He went to the gate where a gui
stands between his post and the gre
est packer in the world.
“W’ere’s de ole man?” asked
urchin.
The guard told the boy to get
“You tell de ole man dat I Avant
see him. I want to see him alone.
don’t want to bodder you ner de (
man. But I want to see de ole mi
an’ 1 Avant to see him right off.”
Mr. Armour at his desk
the ragged request. “Let that
come in here,” he called to the
man on the gate. The urchin a
proached Mr. Armour in a busine*
like way. There were no prelinriusfl
compliments.
“Sav.” spoke the urchin, “I toot
nap out dere m de alley, and Av'il*
A\’as asleep some o’ dem kids frointl
board o’ trade come along and strip 1
(stole) my kit an’ I’m short,
ter borrar a dollar to buy me a
I’ll pay you back on dc
flan. See?”
Mr. Armour handed the boy '
silver dollars and told him to go. 0
the boy handed back one of the dolkfl
and said: 1
“I doan’ Avant but one. I‘na gwj o'J
to pay it back, and acre's no use
man goin’ in deeper’n liis head, l a n
keep my head above dc water.”
The truth of the aboA*e the story sew j
A’ouched for by one avIio suav
and overheard the conversation!
Tribune.
Got It Wrong After All.
A Windsor Locks little gii'U
old enough to enter the infant class sj
the Sunday scliqol, avus ambitious
repeat a text of Scripture as the o M
ones did at the concert exercises,
humor her ambition and make it re
sonably certain that she would ?u
ceed, the mother selected the
text, “It is lawful to do good on 1
Sabbath day,” and taught her n®
she rehearsed it several times correct 1 !'
When the supreme moment arriH
however, the little orator electric
her audience and mortified her mo”
with the proposition that “It is
to do good on the riiabbath daf- ‘
[Hartford Post.