Newspaper Page Text
Sylvania f-'9 4 i LEPHONE
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TO? –r
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VOL. XXVII.
Big Bargains in
Embroideries – Laces.
One lot of embroidered ed
gings, 18 inches wide, 50
and 75 cent values, ryf\n
per yard . .
One lot 10 and 15c embroi
deries, a sacrifice at per
yard,......^
10 and 15c Valeciennes and
Torchon laces, 1-2 to 4
inches wide, per yard,
Gents’ black socks, 4^ a ^ r
worth 10 c, in this sale,
I !
i
c3 O
Island
Buster Brown children stock
ings, guaranteed, price 17>;-k,:;;;
25c, clean-up sale,. 19c
Buster Brown Ladies’ I2C
Hose, per pair, . .
1.25 lace curtains y 69c
clean-up sale, per pr
1.50 and 2 .00 lace curtains,
clean-up sale, per
V
Ladies’ 5 cent liandker
chiefs, clean-up sale, .
10 c bottle machine oil, « ~
clean-up sale, . . .
75c wool dress goods, 4 j fir*
clean-up sale. . .
3 cakes soap, . . . 10 c
Soda Slater
...Sal...
By FRANK H. SPEARMAN
Copyright, 1900 , by Frank H. Spearman
rj P* HEN the great
engine which
‘ called the
we
ITO the came Skyscraper Zanesville out of
r. shops, she was
rebuilt from
pilot to tender.
_ __ _ had
Our master mechanic, Neighbor,
an Idea, after her terrific collision, that
she could not stand heavy main line
passenger runs, so he put her on the
Acton cut off. It was what railroad
men call a jerk water run, whatever
that may be, a little jaunt of ten miles
across the divide connecting the north
era division with the Denver stem.
It was just about like running a trol
ley, and the run was given to Dad
Sinclair, for after that lift at Oxford
his back was never, strong enough to
shovel coal, and he had to take an en
gine or quit railroading.
Thus it happened that after many
years he took ttie throttle once more
and ran over, twice a day, as he does
yet, from Acton to Willow Creek.
His boy, Georgie Sinclair, tbe kid
engineer, took the run on the flier op
posite Foley just as soon as be got
well.
Georgie, who was never happy un
less he had eight or ten Pullmans be
hind him and the right of way over
everything between Omaha and Den
ver made great sport of his father’s
little smoking car and day coach be
hind the big engine. remodeled
Foley made sport of the
engine. He used to stand by while
the old engineer was oiling and ask
him whether he thought she could
catch, a jack rabbit. “I mean," Foley
would say, “if the rabbit was feeling
well.”
Dad Sinclair took it all grimly and
quietly. He had railroaded too long to
eare for anybody’s chaff. But one day,
after the skyscraper had got her flues
pretty well chalked up with alkali, Fo
ley Insisted that she must be renamed.
“I have the only genuine skyscraper
on the West End rtyself,” declared Fo
ley. He did have a new Class II en
gine, and she was awe Inspiring. In.
truth. “I don’t propose," he continued,
“to have her confused with your old
tub any longer, Dad.”
Dad, oiling his old tub affectionately,
answered never a word. ■
“She’s fulj of soda, Isn’t she, father?”
asked Georgie, standing by.
••Reckon she is, son.”
•‘Full of water, I suppose?”
“Try to keep her that way, son."
“Sal Soda, isn’t It, Dad?”
r* i ISAAC HER 1
Our Great Fifteen A % Offering. r
I ■X. §
-\c X.
Last week our buyers, Isaac and Newman Sliver,
left for New York and other great business centers to
buy our spring stocks for our two big stores, Sylvania and
Sandersville.
We Must Make Room
For our spring goods which will soon be coming in in large quantities,
HENCE OUR BIG 15 DAYS SLAUGHTER SALE,
A cleaning-up sale. All winter materials in Dress Goods, Clothing, Millihery, Blankets, Un=
derwear, Jackets, Cloaks, etc. . ............
Blankets,—1-2 price.
50c dress goods, clean
up sale . . . . 29c
Dress goods remnants
one-half price.
The price cutting not restricted to articles enumerated in this ad. Posi=
tively the whole stock reduced. Number of articles we cannot mention.
’J*
“Now, I can’t say. As to that I can’t
say."
“We’ll call her Sal Soda, Georgie,”
suggested Foley.
“No,” interposed Georgie. “Stop a
bit. I have it. Not Sal Soda at all.
Make it Soda Water Sal.”
Then they laughed uproariously, and
In the teeth of Dad Sinclair’s protests
for he objected at once and vigorously
—the queer name stuck to the engine,
and sticks yet.
To have seen the great hulking ma
chine you would never have suspected
there could be another story left In her.
Yet one there was—a story of the wind.
As she stood, too, when old man Sin
clair took her on the Acton run, she
was the best illustration I have ever
seen of the adage that one can never
tell from the looks of a frog how far
It will jump.
Have you ever felt the wind? Not,
I think, unless you have lived on the
seas or on the plains. People every
where think the wind blows, but It
really blows only on the ocean and on
the prairies.
The summer that Dad took the Acton
run It blew for a month steadily—all
of one August—hot, dry, merciless, the
despair of the farmer and the terror of
trainmen.
It was on an August evening, with
the gale still sweeping up from the
southwest, that Dad came lumbering
into Acton with bis little trolley train.
He had barely pulled up at the plat
form to unload his passengers when
the station agent, Morris Reynolds,
coatless and hatless, rushed up to the
engine ahead of the hostler and sprang
Into the cab. Reynolds was one of
the quietest fellows In the service. To
see him without coat or hat didn’t
count for much in such weather, but
to see him sallow with fright and al
most speechless was enough to stir
even old Dad Sinclair.
It was not Dad’s habit to ask ques
tions, but he looked at the man In ques
tioning amazement. Reynolds choked
and caught at his breath as he seized
the engineer’s am and pointed down
the line.
“Dad,” he gasped, “three cars of coal
standing over there on the second spur
blew loose a few minutes ago!”
“Where are they?”
“Where are they? Blown through
the switch and down the line forty
miles an hour.”
The old man grasped the frightened
man by the shoulder, “What do you
mean? How long ago? When is 1
due? Talk quick, man! What’s the
matter with you?”
“Not five.minutes ago. No. 1 is due
here in less than thirty minutes. They’ll
go into her sure. Dad,” cried Reyn
olds, all in a fright, “what’ll I do?
For heaven’s sake, do something! I
called ud Riverton Sed and tried to catch
1 but sfieM a^eok I was too late
There’ll be ’ and I’m booked
tor the . penitentiary. TTr What can _ I do?’ .j
4 » the while the station agTOt p ne
Stricken, rattled on Sinclair was look
–££* hjsjratch. casting it up, cmtrvpg
SYLVANIA, RUARY 7, 1907.
One paper needles, lc
40c ladies’ under vests
clean up sale . . 19c
1.00 dress goods, clean
up sale .... 75c
it all under "Els thick, gray, gnzzlea
wool, fast as thought could compass.
No. 1 headed for Acton, and her pace
was a hustle every mile of the way
three cars of coal howling down on
her, how fast he dared not think, and
through it all he was asking himseif
what day it was. Thursday? Up!
Yes, Georgie, his boy, was on the flier
No. 1. It was his day up. If they met
on a curve—
“Uncouple her l” roared Dad Sinclair
in a giant tone.
“What are you going to do?”
“Burns,” thundered Dad to his fire
man, “give her steam, and quick, boy!
Dump in grease, waste, oil, everything!
Are you clear there?” he cried, open
ing the throttle as he looked back.
The old eugine, pulling clear of her
coaches, quivered as she gathered her
self under the steam. She leaped ahead
with a swish. The drivers churned in
the sand, bit into it with gritting tires
and forged ahead with a suck and a
hiss and a roar. Before Reynolds had
fairly gathered his wits Sinclair, leav
ing his train on the main track in front
of the depot, was clattering over the
switch after the runaways. The wind
was a terror, and they had too good a
start. But the way Soda Water Sal
took the gait when she once felt her
feet under her made the wrinkled en
gineer at her throttle set his mouth
with the grimness of a gamester, it
meant the runaways—and catch them
-or the ditch for Soda Water Sal, and
the throbbing old machine seemed to
know It, for her nose hung to the steel
like the snout of a pointer.
He was a man of a hundred even
then—Burns—but nobody knew it then.
We hadn’t thought much about Burns
before. He was a tall, lank Irish boy,
with an open face and a morning
smile. Dad Sinclair took him on be
cause nobody else would have him.
Burns was so green that Foley said
you couldn’t set his name afire. He
would, so Foley said, put out a hot box
just by blinking at it.
But every man’s turn comes once,
and it had come to Burns. It was Dick
Burns’ chance now to show what man
ner of stuff was bred in his long Irish
bones. It was his task to make the
steam—if be could—faster than Dad
Sinclair could burn it. What use to
grip the throttle and scheme if Burus
didn’t furnish the power, put the life
\ Into her heels as she raced
the
over the prairie faster than
fly before It? t
| Working smoothly and
dizzy whirl, the monstrgus
the steel In leaps aud bounds.
leaning from tho cab
gloatingly watched their ,
Specd, pulled the bar up notch after
notch, and fed Burns fire into the old
en 2 iue a arteries fast and taster than
sbe could throw u ,nto her ste f' lj:>ois '
1 was the ul « Ut tbc West Eud
> new that a S reenhoni ,md cast llis
chrysalis and stood out a man—knew
^ llonor roll of ollr frontier di
v . g . Qn wanted oue mQro name, and
' bi Djck Bunls -. Sinclair
that , t wng „
huug silent | y desperate to the throttle,
15c childrens hose, 8 c
50c Mens Gloves, 25c
Ladies jackets 1 2 price
50 cts silks, clean-up
sale . . 39c -
his eyes straining into the night ahead,
and the face of the long Irish boy,
streaked with smut and channeled
with sweat, lit every minute with the
glare of the furnace as he fed* the
white hot blast that leaped and curled
and foamed under the crown sheet of
Soda Water Sal.
There he stooped and sweat and
swung as she slewed and lurched and
jerked across the fish plates. Carefully,
nursingly, ceaselessly he pushed the
steam pointer higher, higher, higher on
the dial—and that despite the tremen
dous drafts of Dad’s throttle.
Never a glance to the right or the
left, to the track or the engineer. From
ii®j
6^
* f.’
D /•
_\yi
j r
WM /
j v/////m
Burns heard the cry. It nerved him to
j a supreme effort.
j the coal to the fire, the fire to the wa
j ter, the water to backj|““ the g°; ] i gauge coal
I to the stack and ts he
j —that ears nownusde^BB was Burns. ■CJuit nor
__
i .
ful no _ one -ver ITT?"" PBPHan
Sinclair nor Dick Burn ver cared,
Only, the crew of a freigl side track
j ed for the approaching ;r, die saw an
j eugine ^ flying Sry. light; fo^ Uiigs * ■-seen
the ufl dr V
runaways shoot
I ute after, a stai a
trail Gf
75c silks, clean-up
sale . . . 49c
1.50 yard wide guar
anteed Taffeta silk, 98c
75c gloves . . 49c
wind, and she had come anif passed
and gone.
It was just east of that sidiug, so
Burns and Sinclair always maintain
ed, but it measured 10,000 feet east,
that they caught them.
A shout from Dad brought the drip
ping fireman up standing, and, looking (
ahead, he saw in the blaze of their
own headlight the string of coalers
standing still ahead of them—so it
seemed to him—their own speed was
so great, and the runaways were al
most equaling it. They were making
forty miles an hour when they dashed
past the paralyzed freight crew.
Without waiting for orders—what or
ders did such a man need?—without a
word Burns crawled out of his window
with a pin and ran forward on the
footboard, clinging the best he could as
the engine dipped and lurched, climbed
down on the cowcatcher and lifted the
pilot bar to couple. It was a crazy
thing to attempt. He was much like
lier to get under the pilot than to suc
ceed, yet he tried it.
Then it was that the fine hand of
Dad Sinclair came into play. To tem
per the speed enough, and just enough,
to push her nose just enough and far
enough for Burns to inalce the draw
bar of the runaway—that was the
nicety of the big seamed hands on the
throttle and on the air,- the very magic
of touch which on a slender bar of
steel could push a hundred tons of fly
ing metal up and !■ it steady in a
play of six inches ; -‘te teeth of the
gale that tore down behind him.
Again and again Burns tiied to
couple and failed. Sinclair, straining
anxiously ahead, caught sight of the
headlight of No. 1 rounding O’Fallon’s
bluffs.
lie cried to Burns, and, incredible
though it seems, the fireman heard,
Above all the infernal din, the tearing
of the flanges and the roaring of the
wind Burns heard the cry. It nerved
him to a supreme effort. He slipped the
eye once mare into the draw and man
aged to drop his pin. Up went his
hand in signal.
Choking the steam, Sinclair threw
the brake shoes flaming against the
big drivers. The sand poured on the
| j rails, and with Burns up on the coalers
stMiiis ~Hk^rought brakes the three great run
^^^Bjn^fAdcd to with a jerk
the most
^^^^Hkcrcpt world.
along
^^^^^^^^^^Aihrough to
the
^^^^^^mP^i'esource could that
er ex
^^Hfgling of to overcome aud the
pursuer pur
now frightfully into the
®head of No. 1.
j I With the dancing Johnson gallop bar over backward; and tbe
drivers a rails
j j with the sand under striking it; with fire the and old tho sky
burning terrific
1 scraper shivering again in a
.
struggle and Burns twisting the heads
off the brake rods; with every trick of
| old Sinclair’s cunning aud his boy du
Uniting every one of them in the
Men’s heavy undershirts,
worth 75 ets, clean- ■ 5 A/'*
up sale, ....
Mens 75c dressjsliirts -5
clean-up sale, 4 \J V ^ 1
. .
CC 19c
3 sale,
Mens 1.50 and 2.00 U
felt hats, this sale, ;
Mens 75c and 1.00 49c
sweaters, this sale,
Muns 2.00 woolen 98c
shin?,, clean-up sale
One lot of Men’s 25 cent
neckwear, clean-up IOC
sale,
Men’s 10.00 Overcoats, mer
cerized silk lined 4.98
clean-up sale .
Men s 3.00 pants, y J”
clean-up sale, . .
Silver and Gold shirts, 1.00
and 1.50 quality, —
clean-up sale, .
spreads, 1.50 and 2.00 this white sale :98c
75c and 1.00 linen table
cloth, clean-up sale, 4 a yyyr
per yard ....
Good 10c bleaching, yard I
wide, clean-up sale,
per yard, 4
One paper pins . . . lc
2L.
cab of No. 1—sun tney came together.
It was too fearful a momentum to
overcome, when minutes mean miles
and tons are reckoned by thousands.
They came together, but instead of
an appalling wreck, destruction and
death it was only a bump. No. 1 had
the speed when they met, and it was
a car of coal dumped a bit sudden and
a nose on Georgie’s engine like a full
back’s after a center rush. The pilot
doubled back into the ponies, and the
headlight was scoured with nut, pea
and slack, but the stack was hardly
bruised,
The .minute they struck Georgie Sin
clair, making fast and leaping from
his cab, ran forward in tbe dark pant
nig with rage and excitement. Burns,
torch in hand, was himself just jump
ing down to get forward, His face
wore its usual grin, even when eor
gie assailed him with a torrent of
abuse.
“What do you mean, you red headed |
lubber?” he shouted, with “What much the j !
lungs of his father. are you
doing switching coal here on the main j
line?”
In fact, Georgie called the astonished
fireman everything he could think o£.
until his father, who was blundering
forward on his side of the engine, hear
ing the voice, turned and ran around
behind the tender to take a hand him
Jf
„ Mean? „ he roared above the blow
q{ hjg „ afety ‘.jjean?” he bellowed in
the teet]l tho wind . “Mean? Why,
a j nl p Ut }ent, empty headed, ungrate
ful rapscallion, what do you mean com
ing around here to abuse a man that’s
train from the 1
eavc(1 yolI an q y0U ' r
scrap 9 ” !
"
Vnd his' Diek Burns ’into standing by !
wit h torch, burst an Irish
laugll( £iirly doubled up before the j
nonplused boy and listened with great ; j
re lish to the excited father and ex
c jted sou. It was not hard to under- j
stand Georgie’s amazement and anger '
a t finding Soda Water Sal behind stations three |
cars of coal halfway between time—and j
on the main line and on his
that the fastest time on the division.
But what amused Burns most was to
see the imperturbable old Dad pitching
into his boy with as much spirit as the
young man himself showed.
it was because both men were scared
out of their wits; scared over their
narrow escape from a frightful wreck;
from having each killed the other,
maybe—the son the father, and the fa
For brave men do get scared. Don’t
believe anything else. But between
the fright of a coward and the fright
„f a brave man there is this difference
—the coward’s scare is apparent before
| the dauger, that of the brave man after
it has passed, and Burns laughed with
a tremendous mirth “at th’ two o’ thirn
ajawiu’,” as lie expressed it.
No man ou the West End could turn
C n his pins quicker than Georgie Sin
rFiii', though, if his hastiness misled
,; ua . \yhen it all came clear be climb
ed j n j 0 the old cab—the cab he himself
had once gone against death in—and
j with »tuuibHusr words tried to thank
NO. 27.
the tall Irishman, wlio sTIU laughed m
the excitement of having won.
And when Neighbor next day.
thoughtful and taciturn, heard It all,
he very carefully looked Soda Water
Sal all over again.
“Dad," said he, when the boys got
through telling It for the last time,
“she’s a better machine than I thought
she was.”
“There Isn’t a better pulling your
coaches,” maintained Dad Sinclair
stoutly.
“I’ll put her on the main line, Dad,
and give you the 168 for the cut off.
Hrn?”
“The 168 will suit me, Neighbor. Any
old tub—eb, Foley?” said Dad, turning
to the cheeky engineer, who had come
up in time to hear most of the talk.
The old fellow had not forgotten Fo
ley’s sneer at Soda Water Sal when he
rechristened her. But Foley, too, had
changed his mind and was ready to
give in.
“That’s quite #ght, Dad,” he ac
knowledged. “You can get more out
of any old tub on the division than the
rest of us fellows can get out of a
Baldwin consolidated. I mean it too.
It’s the best thing I ever heard of.
What are you going to do for Bums,
Neighbor?” asked Foley, with his usu
al assurance.
“I was thinking I would give him
Soda Water Sal and put him on the
right side of the cab for a freight run.
I reckon he earned it last night.”
In a few minutes Foley started off to
hunt up Burns.
“See here, Irish,” said he in his off
hand way, next time j-ou catch a
string of runaways just remember to
climb up the ladder and set your
brakes before you couple. It will save
a good deal of wear and tear on the
pilot bar, see? I hear you're going to
get a run. Don’t fall out the window
when you get over on the right,
And that’s how Burns was made an
engineer and how Soda Water Sal was
rescued from the disgrace ot running
on the trolley.
How Silver Mines Form.
Tho process by which nature
forms her silver mines is very in
teresting. It must be remembered
that the earth’s crust ^s full of wa
ter, which percolates everywhere
through the rocks, making solutions .
of elements obtained from them.
These solutions take up small par
ticles of precious metal which they
find here and there. Sometimes the
solutions in question are hot, the
water having got so far down as to
be set boiling by the internal heat
of the globe. Then they rush up
ward, picking up the bits of metal ■
as they go. Naturally heat assists
the performance of this operation.
Now and then the streams thus
formed, perpetually flowing hither
and thither below the ground, pass
through cracks or cavities in the
rocks, where they deposit their lodes
q| silver,___