Evening Republican, Volume 14, Number 283, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 29 November 1910 — Page 2

"SOME PUMPKINS"

SOMEWHERE down the road the engine stopped to get a drink. There was toothing in it for the passengers, the day being Sunday and the lid well clamped down, even in the Ozark country, ■where the moon is said to shine in the darkness occasionally. Nevertheless the passengers got something worth while stopping for. What they got was a picture. It was a simple composition with a background of crimson autumnal foliage, a weatherstained log house in the middle distance, well screened in woodbine and trumpet creeper, the frost-nipped remains of an old-fashioned garden and —right in the middle foreground, not a stone’s throw from the track —the solitary figure. He stood beside the squat gatepost, just as if he bad been painted there a gpod half century ago, a cob pipe in his mouth and a somewhat tattered straw hat pushed well back from his florid brow and straight gray hair. His lean arms embraced, as far as human arms could reach, a mammoth pumpkin that reposed on the gatepost, and Into the side of the yellow rind he had cut, “Prize-winner, 216 pd" "I thought he’d be there,” one of the passengers laughed. “He hasn’t done a thing but flaunt that pumpkin at the passengers the past four days since he got it back from the county fair. You know it isn’t easy to raise big fellows like that in these Ozark hills. It takes rich bottom soil to make ’em grow to any considerable size, and the Ozark farmer needs his little bottom patches for something besides show fruit. That old chap got some of the best pumpkin seed that ever was brought into market and he’s been at ’em ever since. That 216-pounder did actually capture the prize in a certain Missouri county, but there was a pumpkin shown at the Merchants’ Exchange in. St. Louis that would have broken the old Ozark farmer’s heart. It was the great achievement of Tom Powell, who has been raising big pumpkins a good many years and who supplied the seed from which that one great hill pumpkin was developed. It took a threehorse team to haul thirty pumpkins to St Louis for the display. The combined weight of the load, exclusive of the wagon and driver, was something over 5,000 pounds, and the largest of the pumpkins tipped the beam at 237, the heaviest pumpkin ever brought to St Louis. It was converted into 160 succulent pies. The demand for pumpkin has not increased in proportion to the population’s increase. In the days of our grandmothers canned things were almost unknown. And there was the tradition that in the fall, from the middle of October to Christmas, there must be a long row of pumpkin pies on the pantry shelf every Saturday night. For a moderate-sized family ten pies would suffice, but there was many a housewife who made her tired boast, “I’ve baked two dozen this morning, and I do hope there will be enough left for Monday dinner.” In the old days, the pumpkin was put to another use. It was the basis for a very delicious soup—strange as this may seem. EVen now in the markets of Paris there is the custom of crowning King Pumpkin the last Saturday id September. The largest and Shapeliest is elected kliig, and there is a regular ceremonial, an hour of the afternoon being given up to the parade through stalls and adjoining streets of the market, the trades people in costume and the pumpkin adorned with a gorgeous crown of tinsel and imitation jewels. When the parade is over the fruit is uncrowned, cut into sections and these auctioned off to the highest bidder, to be taken home and made up into soup.

Long before the Thanksgiving season of pie baking, many pumpkins have been* diverted from their normal purpose of food and have served the merrymakers at Hallowe’en, made over into jack-o’-lanterns, with grinning or sorrowful countenances. Centuries ago in Europe there was another kind of jack-o’-lantern, the marsh fire or will-o'-the-wisp, elf-fire or whatever you wish to call it, that was frequently seen in low, marshy places at night, flitting about like tiny lanterns in the gloom. When these phosphorescent lights appeared at the time of All Saints’ day they were said to be the souls of sinners that had escaped from purgatory and returned to earth to beg their former friends to pray for the remission of their sins. Whether the pumpkin’dnHtation of the marsh light originated among the peasants of Italy or the negroes of our own southern states, is still a mooted question. At first they were all sorrowful faces, befitting the counterpart of the soul that is suffering the consequences of a wicked life. But once upon a .time an embryo sculptor made a mistake in the carving of a pumpkin mouth, causing the corners to turn up instead of down, and the effect was so jolly and comical that all who saw this spirit came to the conclusion that either the sins had been forgiven or the gate to purgatory had been slammed in his face and he need not return. Since that time it has been assumed by the Halloween hostess that sins are actually pardoned and departed spirits are happy, for the round, rather flat pumpkin that can be made to grin is the one most in demand. Italy lays claim to the origin of the jack-o’-lantern and some time ago the botanists of Europe laid entire claim to the pumpkin itself, asserting that it was an imported product in America. This libel was given the lie in a little while by the who was

In the Pumpkin Field.

in no humor to be robbed of his annual Thanksgiving pie. Pumpkins were grown in the rich alluvial Soil along the Missouri river long before the white man invaded the interior of the continent, and in-the cliff dwellings of Mancos Canyon,, Ohio, that were abandoned even before the coming of Columbus, perfectly preserved pumpkin seeds have been found by the excavators, in hermetically sealed jars. This fact, is of no particular interest to any but the botanist, and the archaeoligist; yet it is a source of gratification to us to know that we can eat our national pie without returning thanks to any other country than our own.

FOR THE TEACHER.

Don’t forget your ventilation. Don’t forget to teach manners. Don’t forget that a harsh word does not pay. Don’t forget to enforce what yon threaten. Don’t forget to have a definite alm in a recitation. Don’t forget to avoid “Yes” and “No” questions. Don’t forget to treat the pupil kindly after punishment. Don’t forget to care for your own and the pupils’ health. Don’t forget to ascertain the pupils’ guilt before punishing. Don’t forget to give all studies their just share of attention. Don’t forget to keep your sorrows and troubles to yourself. Don’t forget that a suitable and well told story Is never lost. The thing that made David a great man was the iron In his blood. Don’t forget that many children have at home all the scolding they need. Don’t forget that your pupils ought to drink from a running stream and not from a stagnant pool.

SAYINGS OF CONFUCIUS.

Have no friends not equal to yourself. The accomplished scholar is not a utensil. Learning without thought is labot lost. Thought without learning is perilous. Fine words and an insinauting appearance are seldom associated with true virtue.

I will not be affected at men’s not knowing me. I will be afflicted that I do not know men.

To rule a country there must be reverent attention to business, sincerity, economy in expenditure, and love for men.

He who exercises government by means of his virtue may be compared to the ;north polar star, which keeps its place, and all the stars turn toward it.

At 15 I had my mind bent on learning. At 30 I stood firm. At 40 I had no doubts. At 50 I knew the decrees of heaven. At 60 my ear was an obedient organ for the reception of truth. At 70 I could follow what my heart desired without transgressing what was right.

WAYSIDE WISDOM.

Nothing is lost save that which is regretted. Success seldom gets friendly with a drinking man. The bravest man is he who knows when to be afraid. You can’t play hookey from the School of Experience. A man never knows how many relatives he has until he begins to get rich. A man celebrates many birthdays in the first six months after his mar riage. Nobody borrows trouble but the man who already has more than he needs of it. To listen to some people talk you would think their thoughts had just stepped on a banana peel.

Whether the horseshoe is an emblem of luck or not depends on the kind of horse it is attached to. ' * It is astonishing how much folly is committed for reasons which every judicious person must approve.

A PHILOSOPHER’S MUSINGS.

Men are as bad as they dare to be, women as good.

You can’t make truth out of a lie by standing the lie on its head. The truth of today is the lie of yesterday, and it will be the paradox of tomorrow. Time is not money—lt cannot be hoarded; it must be spent, whether one will or not. At the final analysis, all one gets out of life is board and room and a sense of achievement. In many a marriage, as soon as the home is established Duty enters at the door and Love flies out at the window. If religion is the consolation of the soul, then art is the consolation of the intellect, and love, of the heart—Herry Kemp in the Smart Set.

HOME-MADE REMEDIES.

Try a sun-bath for rheumatism. Try cranberry poultice for erysipe< las. Try clam broth for a weak stomach. Try eating fresh radishes and yellow turnips for gravel. Try swallowing saliva when troubled with sour stomach. « Try eating onions and horseradish to relieve dropsical, swellings. Try the croup-tippet when a child is likely to be troubled in that way. Try a cloth wrung from cold water put about the neck for sore throat. Try buttermilk for the removal of tan and walnut stains, and freckles. Try hot flannel over the seat of neuralgic pain and renew frequently.

Try taking cod liver oil in tomato catsup if you want to make it palatable.

Try snuffing powdered borax up the nostrils for catarrhal cold in the head.

Try breathing fumes of turpentine or carbolic acid to relieve whooping cough.

Try taking a nap in the afternoon if you are going to be out late in the evening.

Try walking with your hands behind you if you are becoming bent forward.

Try a silk handkerchief over the face when obliged to go out against the cold, piercing wind. —New York Mail. -a

DYSPEPTIC PHILOSOPHY.

“Silence is golden” is the motto of the blackmailer. After a man gets used to being a martyr he seems positively to enjoy it. It’s a well-trained conscience that can be made to speak only when it is spoken to. It doesn’t require very much encouragement for any woman to make love—to herself. Some people seem to have an idea they could give Inside Information to the recording angel. / Art Is long and time is fleeting, especially when a man’s time is more valuable than his art. One-half of the world doesn’t know how the other half lives, but rather suspects -it’s on alimony. Friendship demonstrates that two persons can get so thick they can’t see other. Nothing pleaeses the average man more than to find a button off when his wife hasn’t time to sew it on. After a man has been married for aboutj.6 years he can make his wife do almost anything she feels like doing. Even the man who is the architect of his own fortune doesn't always succeed in getting the sun in every room. There are lots of men who would like to go home about eleven o’clock, but wouldn’t know what excuse to make fer coming home so early.

RAM’S HORN BROWN.

There were blockheads even in the family of Solomon.

It is the size of a man’s heart that counts; not the size of his fist.

The preaching that has God in it will always outlive the preacher.

What is the good of having a head of gold, if the feet are either clay or iron?

The plow horse makes more miles in a year than the fleetest racer in the country.

A dead man can roll down hill, but it takes a live one to climb to the top of any kind of mountain.

No man will ever amount to shucks as a mountain climber unless he has “Excelsior!” on his-banner.

The trouble with some folk is that they put too much' ginger in the label, and too little “ketchup’* in the bottle. God meant every nubbip to be a big ear of corn for the man who would do the right kind of praying with his hoe. Trying to make a college professor out of the man who was foredtdaiued to be a horse doctor, is a blunder that is always being made. Many a man that God sent into the world to be an iron cogwheel was never heard of because he tried to make a big brass whistle out of him-self.-Indianapolis News.

A Man’s Equal

Half-hidden from the others in a corner, almost forgotten by them, Elaine bent her fair head over her dainty bit of sewing and listened unheedingly through her dream of Jerry, a dream that would soon be reality. He would be home any day, surprising her as on all his college vacations. He was through the law school and they would be married. They had been planning it for five years—since she was eighteen. ' *

It had been a long wait, and she had felt, uncomfortably, that his sister Anne, his housekeeper since their mother’s death, did not approve Jerry’s choice. Now at the little neighborhood “sewing” that represented society to some extent, where much opinion went forth, but where gossip was theoretically tabooed. Anne was holding forth to the rest. The talk had been largely of college and college people, and Anne was saying In her sententious manner:

“Well, college does change a man! And I believe a man’s, wife should be his equal if she’s to take any comfort herself or be anything but a drag on him. There’s Mary Stevens, for a shining example of misery. Don Martin got engaged to her before he went away to school merely because he was idle and she was pretty and always about. Then, while he studied four years she sat at home and read his letters and embroidered doilies. She simply lived from one vacation to another, and never had an independent thought of her own, or read a book that she was not forced to read! She waited for him to marry her, and that was all. You know, as well as I, that finally everybody but her saw that he had outgrown her. It was evident that he gave her both a jchance and an excuse to break the engagement. But she wouldn’t though Mark Towne, who had remained right here and adored her and was on her own level, was wild to get her. She would marry Don, and she did. Now —he’s indifferent and she Is jealous and it’s a bad mess. He has known women who think and need mental companionship, a thing she can’t give him. She had nothing but mere youth and selfish devotion; now, the youth is slipping away and what is left?” Her needle pricked back and forth through ~ the garment she was making.

“But surely,” defended the minister’s wife, gently, and remembering Elaine and her tender young sensibilities, “surely love does not depend on mere mental companionship. Mary’s case was but one instance. Many men want the simple sweethearts of their boyhood, the girls who have always known and understoodd them. They can get intellectual stimulus from men friends and other women. From a man they want love, which the intellectual woman cannot always give.” Anne still pursued her theme. “Of course, exceptions occur. But I maintain that most men find small interest in the" girls they leave behind them. They may marry them, if they have promised to, but it will be, generally, because the girl has not the sense to see that his interest has/ wandered and that he would be glad of his freedom if he knew how to get it without seeming like a scoundrel to himself and the home town. I’m sure I could tell a man really wanted to marry me or not, and I would at least give him a chance —” Just then a new arrival and a silencing gesture of the minister’s wife toward Elaine, whose cheek had gone white, put an end to the talk. But it had been wantonly cruel, and the others firmly believed that Anne had done it purposely. They knew her ambitions for. Jerry, her brilliant brother, and the Interest Alma Terris, a young artist friend of his had taken in him. The town had thought he would jilt Elaine and marry Alma Terris, and the town had said so. Now Elaine folded her work and slipped into the June sweetness -of the late afternoon, a new thought tearing at her heart. Would Jerry like to have his freedom? Had he cared for Alma Terris? She had not been jealous of the young artist who had visited the Terhunes the summer before. The air was full of bird song and rose bloom, but the ache at her heart hid these things. And he might be home any time, tonight, even. She had waited with a sort of rapture for him, for the final arrangements for the wedding. But now—well, she could not go home. Half unconsciously she went over the hill, taking the little path that led to the wood where they had told their simple boy and girl love. She must think it out. A sort of agony folded in upon her as she remembered that of late his letters had been brief, full of the homely, simple past, with very little of life now, his thoughts now. Had he tired of her? if she tried to break the engagement would he let her? Would she have the courage to try? She could not imagine Jerry taking dismissal from his meek Elaine! Then, with sudden decision, her pride arose in arms. She would do it if it killed her— he would have the chance of freedom. She would go straight up to him the minute she saw him and say— A sound made her turn, and Jerry

By LOUISE OLNEY

stood beside her, reaching out both hands. He was thin and wan and worried-looking, but his- smile was very sweet. She would have leaped to his arms, but she knew that once in the dear, old shelter she could never let him go. She drew back. "Jerry,” she said, while wonderment and alarm grew in his gaze.i “you—we—have made a mistake. Ij am going to give you your freedom.! I cannot —marry you. I think we were—you were —too young. Our! lives have grown apart. My thoughts are not your thoughts, and you—we—would' not be happy.” She was vehement in her speech, utterly unlike the gentle Elaine. She looked at him a moment, then turned and almost ran from him. “Don’t you—dare come after me,” she said breathlessly. “I—could not bear it” * He stood looking after her, and just as she turned the corner a young fellow in white flannels and straw hat joined her. It was Ed Stanton. So Anne had been right! She had written him that Elaine seemed to be interested in Stanton. Jerry threw himself, face downward on the grass and tried to think it out, tried to make himself believe the girl was not in earnest. Evidently she was, and it was unbelievably cruel not to have given him a hint In her letters, to have feigned the same unchanged love for him that she had showed for years! Presently he arose and went home. He had not seen Anne yet, and she welcomed him royally, surrounding him with home attentions. And after dinner, when twilight was falling, she asked him: “And your—marriage, Jerry?” “He answered shortly. “There will be none —Elaine has just broken the engagement.” He glanced quickly up and caught something like triumph in his sister’s face. “I suppose, Anne, that you were right about Stanton. I have neglected her —and lost her. It is my own fault I could not expect a girl like her, infinitely above me —” The sister Interrupted Indignantly: “She was never your equal, Jerry. The world knows you could have married Alma Terriss any day. You can now. What surprises me is that Elaine should have tne sense to see things as they are and set you free. Well, perhaps I helped her see it — I hope I did." Her brother stiffened to instant attention. “Tels me just what you mean, Anna,” he said with a strange quiet.

“Well, at the circle this afternoon somebody brought up the subject of college men coming back to home girls. We spoke of Stevens and Don, and the failure of their marriage. He married her because he had promised to, and because she had not the sense to see that he wanted his freedom and to give it to him. When I began I did not think of Elaine, and then it was too late to stop—it would have been worse than going on. I said that any man who lived four years among thinking /College women rarely comes back to the girl at hoine. unless he is promisebound; that she has nothing but mere youth and a dog-like faith to give him, whereas he needs the mental companionship and real help In his career. I could see by her face that the thought had not occurred to«iier, though she had been with Stanton so much lately. I daresay it made her think—” But her brother had snatched his hat. “I dare say it did make her think,” he remarked as he hurried out of the room and went down the street as if time itself were at his heels. Ten minutes later he panted Into the Waite grounds, through the pretty rose garden and up‘tb the front door. Mrs. Waite welcomed film like the son she had long considered him. Evidently the good lady had, as yet, heard of no change In the situation. “Where’s Elaine? I want to see her Immediately.” “She went out into the garden awhile ago—you will probably find her.” Without a word he strode out She sat on the rustic bench in the rosearbor, her arms over the back, her pretty head bent down upon them. At his step she jumped up and faced 1 him in the gloom. "Elaine, you dismissed me, but you did not say it was because you no longer love me. Tell me, truthfully, that you do not love me, and I will go, but until then I never will. I love you as I always have loved you, only a thousand times more. You are tearing my heart out of me, girl, lid I neglect you, until you have fallen back for love on—Stanton?*’ That brought her, with a little cry,' to. her dear old place In his arms, where she could teU him all about it. It took a long time and there were many interruptions. Finally he laughed. “But I don’t want to marry my equal—l want an angel, my superior in every way! I want you! I want a real woman who loves me hot somebody who loves her work first, herself second, and her husband third. I’m not a thirdplace man, Elaine—l want everything. Do you seer it was very dark in the summer house, but light dawned on Elaine.