Democratic Press, Volume 1, Number 29, Decatur, Adams County, 2 May 1895 — Page 8

IF WE ONLY COULD. If a man cot Id be born when he’s old. And gradually grow young. TLe wisdom te d gain and the lore he d attain Are not easily said or sung. If I knew as much as my boy. Who is six times younger than I. I'd have a sufficience of general omniscience— Be finished ana ready to die. So a man might drink deeper, I hold. Yes. force out truth's obstinate r'ung. If he could be born when he s old And gradually grow young. For the groping and Ignorant man In his darkness would count it a joy If he had the light to enlighten his night Os the wise, luminiferous boy. If be could grvv* younger and wise, And develop from age into youth We'd be able to hold when we re thirteen years old. The substance and sum of all truth. An ’ the oceans of wisdom we’d hold Cannot be imagined or sung. If a man could be born when he’s e ld And gradually grow young. But a man is now born very young. And he gradually grows very old. And a> t s youth finishes, his wisdom diminishes. And his ignorance grows manifold. And so every year doth his wisdom decrease And his tight knowledge web is unstrung. And no man can be sure that be is n t immature Unless he’s exceedingly young— What sages the world might behold. What giants of brain and of tongue. If a man co aid be born when he’s old And gradually grow young. —St Louis Post-Dispatch. BETTY’S VERSE. BF SARAH B. KENYON. Mr. Rogers was thinking. His thoughts went back twenty years, and lie saw himself a jaiung man doing a prosperous business, and. although not In partnership, still intimately associated w ;th one who had been his playmate. neighbor and close friend for thirty years. And then Mr. Rogers saw the financial trouble that had come upon him. and he thought bitterly that, if the friend had played the part of a friend, it might have been averted He saw the twenty years of estrangement; he felt again the bitterness of that hour of failure. Mr. Rogers rose from his chair, and. going to bi. safe, drew from it three notes for five thousand dollars each, due cn th f flowing Monday. “Twenty years is a long time to wait for justice." said he to himself; “but now. and without my lifting a finger, these notes have come into my possession, aud 1 know. Robert French, that it will be hard for you to pay them. I knew justice would lie done at last.’’ And Mr. Rogers replaced the riotes in his safe and closing his otHce went home to eat. Many a man will cry out for justice when it is revenge he desires. On Monday morning Mr, Rogers went to the station to take the eight o’clock train for Boston. He had just taken his seat in the car when he heard his name spoken, and saw Mr. Palmer, . his neighbor, standing by his seat. “Are you going to town?" asked Mr. Pa 1 tner. “Yes," was the reply. “Anything I car. do f. >r you?" “1 w isti yon would take charge of my little girl as far as M . Her grandmother will meet her there. I have promised her this visit for a week, and intended to take her down myself, but just at the last minute 1 have received a dispatch that I must be here to me * some men who are coming out on tiie next train.” “Why. of course I will," said Mr. Rogers, heartily. “Where is she?" At these words a tiny figure Clambered on the seat, and a cheerful voice announced; ’ Here I is!" “Thank you,” said Mr. Palmer. “Good-bi. Betty; be a good girl and papa will come for yon to-morrow ." “Good-by, papa; give my love to the baa ’.ammie. and all the west of the fam’ly." replied Betty. People looked around and laughed at Betty’s putting the lamb at the head ' ®f the family. They saw a very little girl under an immerse hat, and with a pair of big blue eyes and rosy cheeks. Mr. Rogers put her next to the window. and began to talk with her. “How old are you, Betty?" he asked. “I’m half-past four; how old are you?” promptly returned Betty. “Not quite a hundred," laughed Mr. Rogers, “but pretty old, for all that.” “Is that what made the fur all come off the top of your head?” she asked, looking thoughtfully at his bald head, for the heat had caused him to take off his hat. Mr. Rogers said he guessed so. Betty pointed out various objects of interest and made original comments upon them, not at all abashed by her companion’s age and gravity. Suddenly she looked up and said: “I go to Sunday school!" “Do yon? and what do you do there?” "Well, I sing and I learn a verse. My teacher gived me a new one 'bout bears, but I don't know it yet; but I know the first one I had; want me to tell it to you?" and the big blue eyes looked confidingly up at Mr. Rogers. “Why, of course I do, Betty," he replied. t Betty folded her hands, and. with her ayes fixed on her listener's face, --aid: ‘Love your innymunts.’ ” X "Mr. Rogers flushed, and involuntarily dlls hand to his pocketbook; but Be”y. all unconscious of his thought, said: “Do you want me to ’splain it?” ipie Ustener nodded and the child “Do you know what an ‘innyis?” but receiving no answer, she Skid: “When anybody does naughty things and bweaks your playthings, ■he’s a ‘innymunt.' Wobbie Fwench was gay HiuyiauuK' he bweaked my dcdly’s ■Boise, and he "Slicked burrs in my baa- . lainmie's fur. and he said it wasn't a tiaa-m.'iMuie, noflin' but just a lammie;” Jwd the big.eyes.srew bigger as they retailed Um JW dignity. - Mr. Rogers looked deeply interested, ia-iaet, yiio euuid have helped it, InpkHM*at the e*rheAli t tie face ? Bettjlßcrturiued to .“ ’spl4®:" “ft jUfttP’t mean," she said, “that jtm must le; your dolls’

noses nor call your baa-lammie names, ’cause that’s wicked; but last week Wobbie bweaked his ’locipetle, and the next day all the boys were going to have a wave. and when I said my pwayers I told the Lord I was glad Wobbie had bweaked his ’locipede. I was. but when I wanted to go to sleep I feeled bad here,” and Betty placed a tiny hand on her chest, and drew a long breath. “But by and by, after much as a hour, I guess, I thiuked how naughty that was, and then 1 telled the Lord 1 was sorwy Wobbie had bweaked his ’locipede and I would lend him mine part of the time; and theu I feeled good, and I was asleep in a minute." “And what about Robbie?” asked Mr. Rogers. “Well." replied the child, “I guess if I keep on loving him, he won’t be a ’innymunt' much longer.” “I guess not, either,” said Mr Rogers, giving his hand to help her down from the seat as the cars slackened speed at M . and stopped at the station. He led the child from the ear. and gave her to her grandmother’s care. “1 hope she has not troubled you," said the ladv, looking fondly at the child. “On the contrary, madam, she has done me a world of good," said he, sincerely, as he raised his hat and, bidding Betty good-by, stepped back into the car. Mr. Rogers resumed his seat, and looked out of the window, but he did not see the tre es, nor the green fields, nor the peaceful river, with its thousands of white waterlilies like stars in the midnight skv. Had he told the Lord that he was glad his “innymunt” had broken his velocipede, and could not Join in the i race for wealth and position? When : he came to put the question straight to I his soul, it certainly did look like it. It was of no use for him to say that the notes were honestly due. He knew that he could afford to wait for the money, and that if Robert French was forced to pay them at once, he would probably be ruined; aud he heard the sweet voice of the child saying: “Love your ’innymunts.”’and he said in his heart, using the old familiar name of his boyhood days: “Lord, I’m sorry Rob has broken his velocipede; I’ll lend him mine until he gets his mended.” Had the sun suddenly come out from behind a dark cloud? Mr. Rogers thought so; bu» it had really been shining its brightest all the morning. A boy came through the train with a great bunch of water lilies, calling: “Liliescentapiecesixforfi.” “Here, boy!” called Mr. Rogers. “Where did those come from?” “White Pond Lily cove,” said the boy, eying Mr. Rogers with some perplexity. He had been train boy for five rears, and never had known him to buy anything but the Journal. “What'll you take for that bunch?" “Fifty cents," replied the boy, promptly. Mr. Rogers handed him the half-dol-lar. and took the fragrant lilies. “How do you get into the cove now?" he asked, as the boy pocketed the money and was moving on. “Git out'n’ shove her over the bar,” replied the boy as he went on. Mr. Rogers looked down at the flowers with streaks of pink on the outer petals, at the smooth, pinkish-brown stems, and thought of the time, forty years before, when he and Rob, two I barefooted urchins, had rowed across ' White pond in a leaky boat, and by I great exertion dragged and pushed it over the bar. and been back home at seven o’clock in the morning with such | a load of lilies as had never been seen ; in the village before. Yes, he remem- | bered it; and Rob's mother was frying ■ doughnuts when they got back, and ; she had given them six apiece. Oh, she knew what boys’ appetites were! She | had been dead for thirty years, he [ thought. Just then the cars glided into the ’ station. Everybody rushed out of the i train, Mr. Rogers following in a kind ' of dream. He walked along until he ; came to Sudbury street, and stopped at a place where he read: "Robert French. Manufacturer of Steam and ! Gas Fittings.” He entered 'the building and, going | up one flight of stairs, opened a door and entered a room fitted up as an office. A man sat at a desk, anxiously examining a pile of papers. He looked up as Mr. Rogers entered, stared at him as if he could not believe his eyes, and, without speaking, rose from his ehair and offered a seat to his visitor. Mr. Rogers broke the silence. “Rob." he said, holding out his hand, "these came from the cove where we used to go. and—and—l’ve come around to say that if you want to renew those notes that are due to-day, I am ready to du so, and—and—” But Mr. French had sunk into his chair, and, with his head buried in his hands, was sobbing as if his heart would break. Mr. Rogers awkwardly laid the lilies on the desk and sat down. "Don’t, Rob,” he said, at length. “Y'ou wouldn’t wonder at it, Tom,” was the reply, “if you knew what I had endured for the past forty-eight hours. I can pay every penny, if I have time, but to pay them to-day meant absolute ruin.” “Well, I guess we can fix all that,” said Mr. Rogers, looking intently into j the crown of bis hat. “Have you any more papers out?” “Less than two hundred dollars,” was the reply. The twenty years of estrangement were forgotten, like a troubled dream, as the two men went over business papers together; and when they finally separated, with a clasp of the hand, each felt a dozen years younger. “Ah!" said Mr. Rogers, as he walked away with a light step, "Betty was right. If you love your innymunt, he won't be an innymunt any longer.”— Christian Union. —Walter Scott's eyes were a grayish blue and very quick and keen. His hair was rather light than dark, and he always walued with a decided limp, from an injury received early in life.

STAKED ON A CARD. A. Pokor Game in Which Two Revolvers Figured. The major had just concluded his story wherein he figured as the hero of a mighty poker game and won thousands of dollars on a royal flush, which he held against another man's four jacks. Every time the circle of ancient and honorable recounters of adventures gathered in that corner of the club the major was sure to spring one of his marvelous poker tales upon the party, and on this occasion he had quite outdone himself and likewise undone himself, as was evident when the westerner asked: “What kind of a deck were you using in that game, major?” “Why. a regular deck, sir, a regular deck. Same as any other poker deck." "Then either you or the other man must have had a jack up his sleeve," was the westerner's conclusion, “for there were evidently five jacks out in that hand.” A roar of laughter at the major's expense greeted this announcement, and it was redoubled when that veracious raconteur got rattled and endeavored to explain that he meant four tens. Perhaps it was with a view to covering the major’s embarrassment that the westerner struck in. when the noise subsided, with a poker story of : his own. “1 would venture to say," he began, “that no man living ever sat in a game I when more was at a stake on the turn of a card than in a certain game which I once played in Frisco. “Five of us sat in and we all had plenty of money to stake, but before the game was over money was a matter of secondary interest, for three of us had sat back and seen a card thrown on which the li*a of one man, and prob- ■ ably of two, depended. “I say we all had plenty of money, ; but that isn't so, for young Harry Randall, who was then cashier of a bank, was, as I knew at the time, playing with money which meant ruin to him if he lost. Before the game began 1 tried to keep him out, but he said to me: “I've got to make a heavy win tonight or—well, they'll haye big headlines on me in to-morrow’s papers. ” "By that I knew that he was involved too deeply to stop there, and the game began. Next to Harry, on his left, sat Mort Henry, a man who should have been a professional gambler, for he played better poker than any man I ever had sat down to a table with before or since. “He was a fanatic upon the subject, and any interruption or irregularity in the game made him furious and even dangerous, for Mort was. in a quiet way, a bad man, and more than one man had fallen before his revolver. “He was clear nerve all the way through, and during the week in which the same five of us had played every night he was a big winner, taking chiefly from Harry Randall. I sat next to him on his left, and next to me was a mine owner named Smith, who would have lost thousands instead of hundreds but for his great caution in play. “A wealthy, retired physician was the fifth member of the party. He and Smith were going east on the following day, so that night was our last I play, and it started high. “There was no limit, and, though 1 i was pretty well fixed in those days, I began to get uneasy at the pace, but ; my cards kept me about even. Smith and Mort Henry were winning, the doctor was losing heavily, and Harry ■ was petering out his chips little by little, the most maddening thing in ! poker, and getting up a very nasty temj per over it. > “Whisky was going pretty lively’ and Harry was taking more than his share of it- This made me the more uneasy, i because the more he drank the more ugly’ he became, his temper being diI reeled toward Mort Henry, who was i taking it good-naturedly. “As time went on and Harry became more abusive. I saw an ugly look come into Mort's face, and once or twice I managed to slip in a word, quietlybegging him to overlook the young fellow's remarks, for I was afraid of trouble. “Well, the trouble came soon enough, and along with it the most stupendous and splendid bluff I have ever seen. Harry had lost quite a little money through the evening, and the play was steadily getting higher under the forcing tactics of Smith and Henry, I who kept winning steadily. “At length it came to a big jackpot, Mort Henry dealing. I Opened it with three good ones, and was rather inclined to exult when Smith raised me, but rather less inclined when the doctor raised him, and positively doubtful when Harry lifted him with a good, big stack of chips. “Mort dropped out, not feeling qualified in putting up so much on a me-dium-sized pair. I stayed, Smith stayed and the doctor raised, only to be hiked back by Randall, who was staking his all on a lucky chance, as we afterward saw. “My three were too good to throw down, and I stayed until after the pot represented enough money to have made up all Harry had lost during the week, the final call was made by the doctor, and the draw came. “Os course my draw was two cards. Mort dealt them out slowly, and they didn't help my hand any. It was Smith's draw, and I began wondering if my trio wasn't better than his. “ ‘l’ll play these,’ said the doctor, steadily, and I saw Harry's mouth which had become a little tremulous with drink, set firm as he called for one card. My estimate of his hand was that he held a bob-tailed straight flush open at both ends, for I reckoned that he wouldn't have raised on two pairs, as he had done,and It proved that I was right. “For once in his life Mort dealt the j cards high, and the first one off the

pack fell face up. It was the eight of hearts. “Never in my life have I seen emotions so portrayed in a man's face as in Harry Randall's. By the rules of the game he could not claim the fallen card, but was required to take the next one. Despair, doubt and a sudden resolve showed themselves in his face one after another, and then the young man's eyes were fixed on the pack from which Mort Henry had half pushed the next card. “It seemed impossible that Harry could have seen it, yet I would have sworn that he did, as his face lighted up. and then would have sworn that he didn’t, as it blazed forth in anger the next instant. “ ‘I take that card,’ he said, pointing ’to the eight of hearts. “ ’The card is out by the rules,' said the doctor. “Mort Henry dealt the next card, which fell face down. “ ’I beg your pardon for that slip,’ he j said, steadily. ‘The second card is yours-' “ ’What is it to you!' cried Harry, reaching for the eight. ‘What have yon to do with it? Y ou’re not iu this hand.' and he put his hand out for it “ 'Rules,' said the other, briefly, settling his hand over the others. ‘The heart is out of the deal.’ "The young man burst out: ‘You’ve got all my money, and now. when you're not even in the game, you're trying to cheat me.’ "At the word ‘cheat’ I saw Mort's eyebrows come down to a straight line as he turned full face to the young man. still keeping his hand guarding the card. Then both men reached behind them, and the other three of us had risen and were standing with the prospect of murder before us. Ilarrv spoke first. Have you ever listened through a telephone when the receiver was out of order and the voice clacked and rattled in your ear? That's the way Harry’s voles sounded to me when he spoke: “ ’Fair play. It’s an even chance. Put down your gun.’ He laid his on the table as he spoke. Mort did the same. 1 believe I tried to say something, but it wasn't a success. “ ‘Y'ou've ruined my hand and me.' said Harry, his voice steadying as he spoke, looking straight into Mort’s eyes, which returned the gaze as straightly i ‘lt's a matter of life and death to me to ' win or lose that pot. and I'd shoot you like a dog for what you did.’ “He pulled his hand away from the card and Mort seized his own. pistol, but dropjied it again on seeing that the other made no movement to pick up his weapon. ‘“Now,' continued the young man, 'there’s the card. I've got a right to call for my card face up when it's dealt. If that card is a heart, as the other was, we’ll play the hand out Lt it’s not, Mort Henry, it will be death for one of us." “ ‘For God’s sake, boys, don't do this,’ the doctor found 1 voice to say. ’I wouldn't turn that card for anything on earth.’ “ ‘l’ll turn it,’ said Mort, without a tremor. “There lay the two loaded pistols, and the two cards, one face down, the other face up. The only sounds I could hear were a drumming noise in my head, the short breathing of Smith and the doctor’s foot shuffling on the floor. With his left hand Mort picked up the card and turned it, at the same instant seizing his pistol with the right. The card was the three of hearts. “ ‘Thank God!’ said somebody. Perhaps it was my own voice I heard. I don't know. The first thing I remember distinctly is hearing Harry say: “ ‘Go on with the play, gentlemen,’ and then I made a small bet mechanically. for I should have known better. Smith dropped, and the doctor, after a long hesitation owing to the fact that he had a good straight, saw me, but both of us dropped when Harry pushed his whole pile into the center. “Three of a kind isn't much good against a flush, nor is a straight. Harry, with a long breath, scooped in the pot, and threw down four clubs—king, queen, jack and ten, and the three of hearts. He had bluffed. “ ’That is the last game of poker I will ever play,’ he said, rising. ‘Mort, 1 ask your forgiveness. Wil! you shake hands with me?' “ ’Yes,' said the other, after a mo ment’s hesitation. ‘I will, and congratulate you on the greatest bluff I ever saw made. Even if my life was involved in it.’ he added, in an undertone. as he grasped Harry’s hand. “That ended the game. Afterward ! Harry Randall explained his play to ine. He had sized up the doctor as I holding a straight, and he wasn't much afraid of the threes that Smith and 1 held. “Os course, he didn’t want the heart that was turned up. as it would fill neither the flush nor the straight, but ’ he caught a glimpse of the next card as Mort Henry half dealt it, and saw it was red. “This meant the ruin of his hand, but in that moment the lightning flash of an idea came to him, and he resolved on his bluff that risked his lif« and Mort’s. It was an even chance for him, lor he knew only that the card was red, and if it had been a diamond there would have been a tragedy. “ In spite of my coolness in thinking it all out,' he told me, ‘I was furious, and would have shot without hesitation had the heart not turned. When it did turn, of course you fellows thought that I had filled. The bluff was safe to go unless the doctor had held a flush or a full. Any way, I had to take the chance, for if I had lost 1 j would have gone home and shot mvself.’ “Thai, gentlemen,” concluded the westerner, “was what I called an exciting game. Ordinary poker for money hasn’t interested me much since. 1 saw that game for life.” There was a momen’t silence around the circle and then the major said: "What I want to know is, did Randall cheat or didn’t he?" But nobody could answer him.—K Y. Sun.

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