Newspaper Page Text
IlfiCtioO
WAITING.
Do the little brown twigs complain
That they haven’t a leaf to wear?
Or the grass when the wind and rain
Pull at her matted hair?
Do the little brooks struggle and moan
When the ice has frozen their feet?
Or the moss turn gray as a stone
Because of the cold and sleet?
Do the buds that the leaves left baro
To strive with their wintry fate,
In a moment of deep despair, create?
Destroy what teaching they cannot
Oh, nature is us there
To patiently wait, and wait.
—Boston Transcript.
1 His Brother’s
Keeper.
S2
BY GWENDOLEN OVERTON.
^aaeiaeiei(^e!&eiGieiae^^ioieiaQi&
HEN a man who is
yet young arrives at
the conclusion that
life holds nothing
more for him and
that lie can only de
- vote himself to the
good of others, there
is still plenty of keen wretchedness in
store for him. If ho gets up after a
bad blow aud is actively miserable and
somewhat hateful and resentful, he
can yet be happy. But self-immola¬
tion is not natural, and anything un¬
natural brings its own punishment.
Anot her person and other people can
not be the centre of the universe for
very long. There may come a jar that
will put you out of plumb for a bit,
but you swing back to your normal
position.
The jar that came to Osborne was a
hard one. The girl to whom he was
engaged told him that her parents were
forcing her to marry a certain rich
man. Now parents, in these days, do
not force one to marry anybody; but
Osborne would have believed whatever
the girl had chosen to iell him. He
believed this, and thought she and'tliere was a
beautiful, suffering martyr,
was a tragic scene, which she did clev¬
erly, aud u parting. After that Os¬
borne lost even ambition, which had
been a ruling passion almost above his
love. The girl was mean enough, too,
to keep his misery alive by writing to
him, row and then, bewailing her
gilded captivity.
Life, he told himself, was hence¬
forth u vain thing, only lit to be used
in the service of others. It is not
easy to serve others picturesquely iu
the army. There are no needy and no
fallen ones—because when they fall
they cease to be in the army. So Os¬
borne bethought him of his brother
Alexander.
Alexander lived on a ranch—as Os¬
borne liad done. At sixteen Osborne
had been the support of a widowed
mother aud two children. He had had
no boyhood in particular. It had all
been work, making the ranch pay.
Only those who have tried it know
what that means. Alexander was not
afflicted after this fashion. He lived
on Lis new stepfather, and was en¬
vious of Ins brother.
Now when Osborne brought Alex¬
ander ou to San Antonio, the first
evening of his arrival he spoke to him
thus: “There’s a first-class school
right in the town, Alex.” Silence.
“I want you to study hard, youngster,
to make up for the time you’ve lost up
there iu the wilderness.”
Alex braced bis feet against tho
porch railing and tipped back his
chair. “It strikes me I’ve lost more
fun than about anything else. It ain’t
fair, Herbert. You’ve been having a
picnic for the last eight years, while
I’ve been slaving iu the fields; and I
don’t see it in the light of settling
down right away to digging at books.
I want a swing.”
If nature is ambitious it cannot be
altered. The ambition may transfer
its object from self to someone else,
but it- will not die. Osborne’s had
transferred itself to his brother. So
his heart sank. But he had learned
toleration. “Well, I’ll give you three
months. But you must study to make
up for it.”
“Three months nothing! What’s
the matter with six?”
“A good deal is the matter. You’ll
be nearly eighteen iu six months, aud
you don’t know as much as the aver¬
age boy of fourteen. Of course, I’m
not blaming you for that. You
haven't had a fair chance.” Osborne
forgot that, at eighteen, he himself
had passed the competitive examina¬
tion.
“I guess I haven’t—at that or any¬
thing else.”
Young Osborne had gone barefoot
all his life, and had never had a whole
new suit of clothes to his back, nor a
dime to call his own. Osborne gave
hirn dancing pumps aud various seem
,ly suits aud a reasonable allowance.
But he thought the allowance small.
“Say, Herbert, I can't make out with
that measly ten. Make it fifteen, will
you?” he complained.
• • No, said Osborne.
Osborne’s “no’s” were always
He, but Alexander persisted. “\\by
not? You’ve a Ibt more than you
need.”
“I know best about that. Ten dol¬
lars is enough, and it’s all I can give
you. I’ve your education to pay for,
recollect. You’ve no expenses out¬
side of an occasional theatre ticket and
tennis ball—or you shouldn’t have.”
“You always did catch all the
plums,” said Alexander.
Then the mail orderly gave Osborne
a letter from the girl. Osborne locked
himself in his work-room, and read it
and believed every word of it. And
living—even for others—seemed a hard
thing for the next few days.
Alexander felt his oats promptly.
He excelled at baseball, he learned
tennis and dancing by magic, and he
rode well. Osborne had never been
so popular. He had served the Mam¬
mon of Ambition exclusively until he
had transferred his allegiance to the
God of Love. Since then he had been
a martyr—and martyrs are more pleas¬
ing in cult, and Ambition filled him.
He rejoiced in his brother’s beauty,
which was of the Bertie Cecil type, in
his magnificeut stature, in his agility
and his athletics. He mounted him
on the finest horse to be bad in that
part of the country—aud wore a shab¬
by uniform himself all winter. He
read with him for two hours daily, and
was well pleased when the boy remem¬
bered just enough to give his conver¬
sation a peculiarly brilliant turn. He
argued great tilings from this when
Alexander should go to school. But
when he went to school, Osborne saw
the truth.
“Alex, the account of you is very
bad. Yov’vo barely scratched through
on two things, and you’ve failed on
mathematics altogether. I’ve told you
that mathematics is the test at the
Point,” Osborne admonished.
“Oh! come, I say; let up, Herbert.
I’m trying to learn this piece.” He
picked on with beautiful absorption at
the guitar the lieutenant had given
him.
“Put up that thing and listen to
me.”
Alexander obeyed, as all men did
when Osborne willed.
“I am going to get you into West
Point at twenty. When I say I am
going to do it, you know it is going to
be done. Don’t you? None of it depends
on you except the study. I can’t make
you drink, but I’ll take you to water
and keep you there until you find it
will bo easier to drink. You can go
back to the ranch if you like, but I’m
not afraid you’ll like. I don’t want to
treat you as a small boy unless you act
the part of one. You can learn, and you
must learn, or the theatres will stop,
aud the hops will stop, aud the guitar
will stop—also the tennis. You have
been cutting time, but hence¬
forth you will study four hours a day
and I will sit with you to help you aud
see that it is done.”
So four hours out of every twenty
four Osborne put to the use of teach¬
ing one who did not wish to learn.
Density can be bored through with
patience. It is the india-rubber of
indifferent cleverness that resists.
After some of the struggles Osborne
would lie awake for the rest of the
night from sheer nervousness, The
boy slept with unruffled brain, Tho
lieutenant almost came to forget the
girl. But never quite, A letter
would come wheu Alexander was most
inert, aud Osborne would stare straight
in front of him and grit his teeth, and
wonder that a man could live with
both sides of hi* nature thwarted and
out back.
But he had his reward. Alexander
went into the Academy at twenty. He
was the handsomest aud most popular
cadet in his class—and he failed iu the
first year.
Just how such things are no
one is ever quite sure; but in Os¬
borne’s case it must have been sheer
force of determination, Alexander
was reappointed, and he himself was
made instructor at the Point,
t He stood over the cadet with the
stinging lash of his ambition; aud
Alexander was graduated fifteen. Os¬
borne unwisely took some credit to
himself.
“Nonsense,” said Alexander, “I’d
have done it aloue. The first miss
was only bad luck; dou’t think it’s
your circus.”
“It doesn’t make any great differ¬
ence whose circus it is, so that you
come out all right. I’m ouly glad
you’re getting some ambition.”
“Ambition be hanged! It's the one
word in your lexicon. I’m sick of the
sound of it. It is the siu by which
the augels fell. Look out you don’t
fall, angel brother.”
“I’m not likely to fall, but I shouldn’t
mind it, if it put you on a mountain
height.”
“No heights for me.. I can’t breathe
rare air,” answered the younger.
Now, in the course of army events
it came to pass tha: a strange fate
made Alexander Osborne second lieu
tenant in the troop of which his broth
er was first lieutenant. And the first
lieutenant continued his ambitious
goading. Alexander was independent
at present, aud resisted to some pur
pose. He would uot spend his nights
in study and his days in wire-pulling.
The War Department did not reward
that sort of thing, he said; it was ae
tion it approved. Wait uutil his time
of action came—theu he would satisfy
his brother.
And the time for action did come.
Bttt the action was disappointing.
They marched 200 miles, and then
marched back again. Alexander com¬
plained loudly that he had had no oc¬
casion to display his prowess in battle.
He should have been quite safe in
this,for that evening they would be once
more in Grant. But the Indian host
is not to be reckoned with. At sunset
—within ten miles of the post—the
Apaches caught the batallion in a rav
ihenT g w kept il there “ ntil we "“*°
The moon came np and showed to
the bucks hiding behind the cedars
and scrub-oaks on the rise, the sol¬
diers penned in the gully below them.
It was merely, for the latter, a ques¬
tion of holding out and having a few
men killed. The danger was not great
unless the Apaches should be rein
forced or the couriers should notreach
the fort. So the men took shelter be¬
hind bushes and rocks, and fired at
the flashes of light in the darkness
above them. The officers walked about
in the deep shadows, firing, too, and
giving orders.
First Lieutenant Osborne was with
his sergeant and another lieutenant
when he came upon Second Lieutenant
Osborne crouched down between two
rocks, his arms clasped over his bent
head and his carbine dropped on the
ground beside him.
There was no mistake to be made,
The other lieutenant hesitated, the
sergeant drew back. But Osborne
went up and touched his brother with,
his foot.
“Lieutenant Osborne,” he said to
the junior, “go and report to the of
ficer in command, Captain Clarke. I
shall have preceded you aud have re
ported you for cowardice. ”
He xvent in search of the captain,
and made his report, and Second Lieu
tenant Osborne was sent under arrest
back to the dismounted horses in the
rear. Then the first lieutenant threw
open his blouse and covered his breast
with a wide, white silk handkerchief
that gleamed even in the shadow, and
walked out into the full moonlight.
It was a matter of only a moment
before the hidden Apaches saw him
with the white target on his bosom.
And two of them, at least, took aim at
the target and hit it full in the centre
—and First Lieutenant Osborne
l itched forward on the stones.—The
rgonaut.
Remarkable Juggling Feat.
Thera is always an aburidant supply
of stories of the expertness of Hindoo
jugglers aud acrobats, says the Boston
Transcript. One who moves about
perched upon a single long stick is the
latest novelty. This performer is
mounted on a bamboo pole about fifteen
feet high, the top of which is tied to a
girdle worn around his waist. A small
cushion is fastened a few feet down the
pole, which acts as a leg rest, The
acrobat hops around a large space in
the liveliest way, uttering cheerful
shouts, and accompanied by the tap¬
ping of a curious drum. He also exe¬
cutes a sort of dance, and goes through
a little pantomime. It is a marvellous
feat of equilibrium. To walk on a pair
of stilts as high as this would be a per¬
formance worthy of exhibition on our
variety stage. But to hop around on
one is quite another thing.
The same mau can do many other
wonderful things. He appears abso¬
lutely perfect iu the art of balancing.
He can balauce a very light stick on
his nose aud a heavy one on his chin,
and then throw the heavy one into the
air with his head and catch it on the
end of the light. When balancing
these two sticks, end on end, he will
make one revolve in one direction and
the other in the other. He puts one
hand on a fiat circular stone, throws
his feet up into the air, and balances a
stick on each of them. At the same
time he revolves rapidly on the pivot
formed by his arm and the stone.
Money Stops a Train.
A few days ago an engineer of a
Boston and ^Maiue train, while run¬
ning between Winchester and Mont
vale, with an empty engine, discov¬
ered what looked to be money, whirling
in the suction caused by the locomo¬
tive drivers, says the Boston Herald.
He stopped the machine, ran back a
few feet aud picked up a $50 bill.
Near by were two $10 bills. The en¬
gineer then started for Winchester,
aud the engine was rolling along at a
good clip when a large bill book, w-ide
open, was seen beside the track. The
engine was stopped and the wallet cap¬
tured. It contained valuable papers
and the name of the owner. The
money and papers were returned to
the proper person with not a cent miss¬
ing. A few hours later the man whose
property had been restored by the
honest engineer made his appearance
and handed a package up to the knight
of the throttle. It contained a half-pint
of cheap whiskey. Railroad men who
heard of the case are wondering if
poor whisky is the proper reward for
honesty. Some of them claim that
the offering of liquor to an engineer
is an insult that should not be over¬
looked.
It seems that the owner of the
money lost it from a passing train,
and he had no definite idea as to where
the incident occurred.
“Professor” Lawrence rose in a bal¬
loon to a height of 7000 feet near
Naim Tal, iu the Himalayas, when the
balloon was burst bv a heavy rain
1 cloud. The “professor" descended by
rarachute ia safely.
II VI WEEKLY LEITER.
rHE UPS A>1) jjqwNS OF SOME
MATRIMONIAL VENTURES.
DECEMBER GROOMS; MAY BRIDES.
!
William Interjects a Few Quotations
From Fady Friends Germane to the
Subject of Matrimony.
Whenever there is trou ole and . T I
can’t give any relief or remedy it de¬
t resses me > especially w hen the trouble
is of a domestic character, .Now here
is a letter from a man who says: “I
Enow neighbor, ho . of
a man, a w is a
warm, affectionate, passionate nature,
and loves his wife to distraction, but she
is ca l m a nd cool a °d conservative by
nature and, therefore, indifferent to
h* 8 caresses, and whenever he ventures
t° kiss her and put his arms about her
s h e repels him with such expressions
‘Oh, Tom, get away; don t bother
’ khe is a pure, good woman and
loves her husband in her way, but she
never meets him at the door when he
comes home tired or disappointed with
his day’s work. The poor fellow
is really pining away and lan
guishing for lack of love—for recip
rocity, as it were and can t get it.
Now, what is the remedy? Cant you
bring your universal philosophy to
bear upon this case and solve the prob
lem?’
No, I cannot. I am helpless. Noth
ing but time will equalize and hor
moaize that couple. I ain afraid their
union was a misfit, but he took her for
better or worse and must be recon
ciled. In fact, he ought to be thank
ful in these degenerate days that, he
has found a pure good woman, even if
she is not as tumultuous in her love as
he would like her to be. But time is
a good doctor. Time will assuage
him down some and will tone her up
some, for a man and his
wife get, more and more alike
as the years roll on. There were
some good friends at my house last
night and I seriously read to them this
letter aud asked for advice about an¬
swering it. They all agreed that the
man was not writing about bis neigh
bor, but was relating his own pitiful
condition.
A married man said, “Write him to
get away and quit botheiing hei when
she so.”
A bachelor friend _ said, Write him
to flirt a little with another man si wife
and she will come to her senses mighty
quick and return his caresses.”
“That is all you know about it,’
said another dame. “The flirtations of
husband destroys love and happi- ^ J
a
ness, too. They are more apt to briug
contempt and even scorn. A true wo- i
man will suffer and endure any fatrti
or failing except that.
married said timid¬ _
A young woman
ly, “She must be a very strange kind
of a woman not to like caressing, but
I do think she ought to meet him
at the door aud give him a smile oi
two when he comes home. ”
“He must be a right good man and
I am sorry for him,” said a lassie in
her teens/ “Or maybe he is so horrid
coarse and ugly that no self-respecting ;
woman would want him bot^ring her
for kisses and caresses every time h«
came about,” said a lassie out of her
teens.
“Maybe he smoked and his breath
was disagreeable,’’said a benedict who
never used tobacco.
So I got but little comfort from this
goodly company and my wife contin¬
ued the discourse by remarking in her
quiet, way, “Well, I think your friend
had better have kept his misery to
himself. Let him stick to his prom
ises that he made at the altar.”
“Or apply for a writ of mandamus
and make her kiss him according to
law,” said a learned judge who was
present. “I would make her recipro¬
cate if the case was iu my court. The
writ of mandamus is a far-reaching
and effectual process.” conversation
Well, of course, the
drifted to the topic of May and De¬
cember marriages, with grooms of
more than three score and ten and
brides of tender years. We all agreed
that if such a groom had anything to
leave such a bride besides his name
and would depart this life in a reason¬
able time, she was justified in marry¬
ing him. But in the first place, the
property should be in sight the “quid
pro quo” and it should be fixed, set¬
tled, dowered, dovetailed, clinched
upon her, and there should be an
implied contract that he should die
in strict accordance with the death
rate, the expectation laid down in the
life insurance tables. Indeed, if the
late frequency of old men marrying
young woman is to be multiplied to
an alarming extent, there should be
established a death insurance office
so that the young girl could go to it
and get a policy insuring the old man s
death in a limited time, and if he
didn’t die within the time, the com
panv should par her so much as she
insured for—sav So,000 or $10,000 or
$20,000, as the case may be. With
the money of course she could live tie
etntly aud even secure a divorce on
the ground of fraud— fraud in not
<!Tin B according to ] 10 ,
t.on and an implied. rromisc >
I know a lady who married
twenty-eight years an old
aud she but twentv ago. He was .q
pretty pink.' and as sweet
as a He i
sickly and agreed to was rich •
$30,000 to be'paidat et n
looked his death
like he would die in a rear V
bless your souls, my sweet
nearly sisters, as he old is living he does. yet and she']-' l/
as Ha,
of youth is gone. When she
she was an orphan and ffiarv .
than soon W,
worse an orphan, and she
childless. What a mistake she
W hat fraud m J a
a was perpetrated
her. What a wreck of earthly had
ness. Young girls, beware! nature] T]d
unions are not according to
they shock the judgment and the s,
t.iment of mankind There are wkn
enough to take these venerable wide
ers, but let the maidens remain sin
if they cannot get a young niaa
their choice.
And now as a supplement to my 1
Indian letters, let me say that niy
quiry about Lieutenant Paschal, \
married Sarah, the half-breed dan
ter of John Bidge, has been auswe
by Mr. C. A. Lilly, a nephew of J U( j
George TV. Paschal. Mr. Lilly’smotl
was Paschal’s youngest sister, a
died last year, aged eighty-one. )
Lilly now lives in St. Louis. soli I
grandfather Paschal was a
under Sumter in the revolutions
war and lived then in Savannah, I]
Judge Paschal’s eldest son, Washing] Geoj
W. Paschal, resides in
city. His second son, Bidge Pasehi
is living with the Cherokees at Tali
quah, I. T. His youngest daugw
married T. P. O’Connor, a member
parliament in Li ndon, Englat
Judge Paschal’s most notable and 6
during work was the annotated editi
of the constitution and laws of t
United States. He also wrote t
memoirs of his mother, who live 1
the great age of ninety-four yea;
which book Mr. Lilly has promised
send me, as it contains a great deal I
the history of north Georgia and d
Cherokee Indians. Many yound
citizens than I am have written a
letters of thanks for these India
sketches and asked for more. May led
I -will write some more when I
more.—Bum Arp in Atlanta Constif
tiori.
TREATY SIGNED AT LAST
And the Trouble Between Greece and Ti
key Is Adjusted.
'Ibe treaty of peace between Tut!
and Greece Avas signed at Constan
no pj e Saturday afternoon,
Early in the week it was stated t!
Salisbury’s proposals for 1
settlement of the questions rela l!lg|
t lie evacuation of Thessaly by Turl
been accepted by the powers,
, p j ie 8 jg n i n g G f the treaty end:
j ong an( j troublesome negotiation
^ eas t e m problem has been since
war be tween Greece and Turkey o
Crete was terminated.
NEW TURKISH MINISTER.
Ferrouli Bay Comes To the United M*
instead of Rifaat Bey, as Rep<> rte '
A special from Constantinople sta
that Ferrouh Bey, councillor -
Turkish embassy at St. Peter 1 -,
has been appointed Turkish me- '
to the United States as succes- -
Moustapha Tachsin Bey.
The foregoing dispatch connie,
a cablegram previously sent from
stantinople that Moustapha
Bey would be succeeded by
Bey, former councillor of the
embassy in London.
FEVER SCARES NEW YORK
Southern Visitors Have Trouble Gett
Out of the City.
The yellow fever scare is creati
complications even as far as N
York. and F^;‘
Southern visitors, es
southern merchants, who ba't ’
the city buying goods for the * 1
being obstructed in theu ed
are refusal of tie- ^
return home by the K
roads to carry them unless
armed President with a Wilson, clean bill of of the he f bow* .
health, has been appealed to h
travelers who encountered dimt-■
REST’ 1 '
FACTORIES 1 '
INDIANA I
Chimney Woi-s* 1
Wire Nail Lauip
gin Operation s Anew.
dispatch of Sundayjrom A 3
A The 3A
son, Ind., says. employing - <00 m -
nail works, chimney J
Lippincott lamp and the J ...
400 - >
works men with aim anjKr
Ct chimney Ms works ' d “, ,
men on rolls, bare of
shut down SOL
blast after a
months and a halt.
REFUGEES SUFFER.
Advised of the Sitnatio 0
President IleandoB. Miss.
Went McKinley rece.
Pres
Brandon, AH * were there
yellow fever refngee e
of plight* owing to the
a sorry and inability
protection account of r ■/]
on a
closing nil 1
for particulars tents to as ^.ter to tne -