Evening Republican, Volume 15, Number 97, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 24 April 1911 — Page 3

The Brute and the Man

By GEORGE CARLING

When James Schofield, farmer and dairyman, drove home from Denton's Corners that night, he was unquestionably drunk. Hilarious and musical when he left his companions at the village tavern, he became after the first mile tearfully sentimental; muttering much to himself about a certain comrade of his boyhood days, long since deceased. During the third and last mile, his hungry and eager horse had plunged recklessly over the muddy, uneven road, and Mr. Schofield, after extricating himself several times from among the milk cans in the wagon, had became pugnacious and aggressive. When he reached his door yard he was fighting drunk. With many curses and kicks he had ushered his unlucky horse into its stall; had cursed his wife for the door held readily open for him; had ordered her to pull off his boots, andhad sworn with vigor and originality at the supper which had been held in readiness for five hours. Finally, exasperated at finding no available fighting material, he had struck the little woman a cruelly savage blow —falling her to the floor — and had answered her one piteous moan with a comprehensive, though somewhat incoherent, lecture on the duties of a wife and her obligations to love, honor and obey. Then he stumbled into the side bedroom and flung himself down Without wasting any precious moments in disrobing. Five minutes later his heavy breathing indicated his perfect oblivion of all matrimonial trials. The girl (she was scarcely more) raised her head. There were no tears, nor sobs, but there was a tiny stream of blood trickling from a cruel cut in her cheek and a little pool on the floor where she had lain. She raised herself wearily to her feet, and staggering to a chair buried her face in her apron—and so sat, thinking—motionless and silent. Presently she arose—took the lamp from the table, and stepping to the looking glass by the window, examined her wounded face. Three years before no sweeter, daintier face—no more bewitchingly gentle eyes—no merrier dimples around such a smiling mouth had been reflected from any mirror in township. Even an hour before one would have had to search far for its equal—the pathos of suffering, of untold anguish, had as yet but changed the quality of its prettiness. At this instant, however, she, herself, was startled at the reflection. She had never seen that face before! —those hard, set, resentful eyes—those tightly compressed lips—that resolute mouth. She had never seen these, although two or three times before she had looked upon a grievously scarred face. But she remembered

now, almost with a little wonderment, that she had already decided how she should meet this next assault when it came. She had dismissed, with a bitter laugh—almost a sneer —the thought of appealing to the law —that abortive, rusty engine of justice and correction, which fines a drunken slugger and then sends him back to his wife, to exact bitter reprisal for her complaint. Noj her remedy was to be more effective and lasting; bringing comfort and safety to herself and fair punishment to the Brute. Lighting a lantern she went to the stable, hearing, as she expected, the eager whinnying of the unfed horse. She threw the welcome oats into the manger, speaking a few caressing words as she rubbed a rough cloth over the grateful animal’s wet back. Then climbing to the loft she threw down a liberal supply of hay—leaned her cheek against his for a moment — and went back to the house, picking up at the wood pile a heavy hatchet. Cautiously entering the room where the Brute lay In his drunken stupor, she put on a dark, serviceable dress — her best —Collected a small quantity

of extra clothing and some little * trinkets, bringing them into tljs kitchen, where she packed them into a rusty traveling bag. Outside, a steady, drizzling rain was falling, and she thought of the miles Of muddy road before her. Packing her shoes in the bag, bhe pulled on a pair of rubber ' boots—-knee-high and confidence-inspiring. Then she smeared the hatchet with blood from the pool on the floor, and ' clipping off a few ends of her bright brown hair she Sprinkled them on the tool. Next she rolled up her bloodstained apron into a tight bundle, and again taking the lantern went out and threw the hatchet into a thicket of brush near by. The apron she staffed behind a beam in the woodheuse. Re-entering the kitchen she pithed up her bag. turned out the light, an* then —paused. Once more, by the light of the lantern, she went Into the bedroom, and after some little search efnerged again with a well-worn wallet. She counted the contents onto the table and stood, considering. There were $74 and some odd cents; the result of a collection of monthly milk bills-.. —-*l - - Still she hesitated. For three years, since the Brute had taken to drinking, she had toiled hard and had earned in honest work fully one-half of what had come in—but no money had been given her. She counted the money Into two equal piles—placed one of these back

In the wallet—and taking the other, she stepped out into the night. Wearied almost to exhaustion, she climbed into the early mail train at Bursbro, and in two hours she was in Buffalo. Then on again, without a break, to Cleveland. In two days she had answered-an advertisement and secured employment as servant to a suburban family. It was late when the Brute awoke and struggled to his feet, cursing his wife fop not having called him. He stumbled out Into the kitchen and noted, with rising rage, the disorder of the night before —the uncleared table —an overturned chair —the unlighted fire. Then his eye fell upon the red stain in the floor. “Gone to those d—d Watson’s again!” he growled viciously, as he remembered her refuge on previous similar occasions. “I’ll teach her afore 'night, cuss her!” But before night, Mr. Schofield was under arrest, and In Bursbro jail, on a charge of .murdering his wife. Her disappearance and his known abuse of her led to quick suspicion, and a search of the premises easily revealed the blood-stained floor and apron, and the damning hatchet. In time, the grand jury sustained the charge and he was held for trial at the next session—to be held two or three months later. f

An exhaustive search for the body of his wife revealed nothing. With the sharper instinct of woman, she had evaded detection as effectively as the most experienced criminal could have done. So the Brute, in the seclusion of his cell, sobered off. As his mind cleared and his hot blood cooled, perhaps his thoughts ran more on his wife’s fate than on his own jeopardy. In his dreams and in his waking moments, hfr Telt an ever-increasing dread of hearing of her—fearing the worst. He grew strangely apathetic about himself, and when, a week before his trial, word was brought to him that he was a free man —that his wife had made known her existence and whereabouts, he walked from the jail without comment—went to his farm and picked up the thread of his life, alone and soon unnoticed. Over in 'Cleveland the suburban family were congratulating themselves on the cheerful, never-failing industry—the quiet, thoughtful deftness of'their servant. wondered at the tincture of sadness which seemed to overshadow her; and won by their sympathetic kindness, she had told her story. Then came sickness —severe, but not lasting—and after that a letter from Kitty, her bosom friend. With what delight she tore it open! How hungry she was. for news from her old friends and neighbors—perhaps also, she was hungry for news of him. One paragraph of the letter read: “He (you know who I mean) is back on the farm, doing his own housework. He has sold the cows, so he never comes to the village with milk, and he keeps out of sight when anyone goes along the road, so you see, Molly dear, I can’t tell you much of anything about him —and you don’t care, I guess!” Then as she read a big, pearly tear drop rolled down the pretty cheek, and splashed out the “don’t care.” Presently came another letter from Kitty, plentifully embellished, as usual, with parentheses and quotation marks, and wfth a paragraph which brought more tears and a long period of gazing at nothing. “Bob (the goose still -comes to see me) says that he calls in to see Jim (your Jim, I mean) whenever he passes the farm, (you know they used to be great chums before). He says that Jim seems sad and talks very little. But he works like a Trojan! (whatever that Is) and he hasn't drank anything since they took him to Bursbro." \

A Week later the little wife alight* ed from the stage which journeyed between Bursbro and Denton’s Corners. Much to the driver’s surprise, she had insisted ypon getting off a quarter of a mile before reaching the Schofield farm. It was after dark, but she trudged along the well known road, carrying her bundle, while the stage disappeared in the gloom. When she came in sight of the house, there was a light in the kitchen, but around the dooryard all was quiet and deserted. She crept to the corner window and peeped beneath the shade. She noted the cheery fire in the well-cleaned stove, and the tidiness of the room. By the table sat the man—her Jim — holding a big needle up before the lamp; and the tears welled in her eyes and a great sob choked her, as she saw the big hand clumsily jabbing a thread at the eye. Climbing softly onto the porch, shd lifted the latch and stood before him. The man stood up, amazed and doubting. He stretched out his arms appealingly. His eyes were -filled with unspeakable pleading—witb trembling, expectant joy. “Molly!—my llt-tle Molly! I knew you'd come again, some day—my 'Molly!" She stepped close to him, and placing the bundle in his outstretched arms, pulled aside the wrappings." "Careful. Jim! Be very careful! My dear old Jim!"

And the wondering Jim looked down, into a tiny little sac two little blue eyes looking curiously into bis —felt a wee band clutch his great finger—and saw his Molly’s dimples in the daintiest, sweetest, prettiest little counterpart—while his Molly wound her arms tenderly around them both, and her happy tears mingled with roguish smiles at his clumsy awkwardness—at his transfigured face—as he slowly grasped the fullness of his great benediction.

FIGHT BOLL WEEVIL

Southerners Turn to Other Crops in War on Pest. Cotton Acreage Reduced as Much as Possible While Corn Is Gaining in Favor—Truck Gardens = «id Alfalfa Profitable. Birmingham, Ala. —Crop diversification is the weapon farmers of Alabama have chosen with which to combat the inroads expected this year from the boll weevil. - Already the cotton pest has been reported in the southwestern corner of the state, and It Is expected Its march Across the commonwealth will proceed this summer at the usual rate of speed. ' While every precaution has been taken and while the legislature has passed a bill donating $20,000 to the entomologists to assist in the war on the weevil, Alabama farmers are aware that the damage to the cotton crop by the little insect necessarily will be large, and in order to lessen its effects as much as possible the acreage of cotton will be reduced and land hitherto devoted exclusively to the southern staple this year will yield other products. Along the Florida line extensive truck gardens are being planted, and it is the belief of the landowners that the profits therefrom will be greater than if the soil were turned over to cotton, as has been the case in the past. Ready markets are afforded at Mobile, Montgomery and Birmingham for Alabama-raised truck, and it is believed that the Florida product will meet with serious competition. For many years strawberry culture has been a most profitable enterprise In the sections around Cullman, in north Alabama, and Castleberry, in south Alabama. These berries are nearly perfect specimens of their kind, and top prices are paid for them in Baltimore, Philadelphia and other cities of the east. It is thought the strawberry- crop this year will be by far the largest ever raised in Alabama, and that the profit will be correspondingly greater. Recently the Birmingham chamber of commerce • Inaugurated a farm movement that promises to result most beneficially to Jefferson and surrounding counties. Steel, iron and coal corporations of this district own many thousands of acres of land which at the present time lie absolutely idle, and these ’corporations have agreed to rent them to settlers at a price virtually gratis. It Is the intention of the promoters of the scheme to obtain settlers who are familiar with the raising of truck to take advantage of these liberal offers. In the last five years extra attention has been paid to the culture of corn In Alabama, and as a result there has been an appreciable increase in the net yield per acre. With the increase In the production of com has come more attention to the raising of cattle and hogs. In each of the congressional districts of Alabama there is a school devoted to Inculcating the principles of scientific agriculture. These institutions have been liberally supported by the state, despite the protests of backwoods legislators, who Inveighed weightily against “newfangled” methods. The wisdom of this policy of liberality Is now being demonstrated. A yearly feature of the work of these agricultural schools has been the formation of “boys’ com clubs,” prizes being offered to the boys who succeed in obtaining the greatest yield from an acre planted in com, and preparing a statement setting forth the method employed, the time and number of plowlngs; the amount of fertilizers used and when applied; the kind of seed planted and the method of its selection, etc. Although in its infancy in this Btate, the growing of alfalfa has become one of the staple industries of Alabama. In the counties of the central western division alfalfa has almost driven cotton from the field. The Alabama product compares favorably with that of the western states.

Five Dollar Tax on Bachelors Asked.

St. Paul, Minn. —The legislature of Minnesota is seriously considering a bill to impose'a tax of five dollars annually upon all male persons above the age of 30 years who are unmarried or who cannot prove that they are persons of such moral character as to be unfit for matrimony. It Is, designed to use the money collected by this “male poll tax" for the support of in? dlgent spinsters if the bill Is passed. According to the bill’s provisions It will be in force from and after February 29, 191*.

Early Bees Rout Workers.

Norristown, Pa.—Workmen repairing the roof of the home of Nathan Walker, in the Chester valley, were routed by a swarm of bees. When William Earnshaw of Bridgeport, an apiarist, had swarmed them he obtained from beneath the roof nine buckets of honey. He also found several bushels of walnuts which squirrels had carried into the place as provender for the winter.

Visiting Cards in Colors.

London—Among the new fashions which have developed during the parliamentary season Is the colored engraving of visiting cards. Black is no longer used exclusively; olive green, purple, bronze' and navy blue lettering Is now turned out by the smartest shops.

WOMAN POLICE OFFICER ON DUTY

MRS. ALICE STEBBINS WELLS

THIS is the latest photograph of Mrs. Alice Stebbins Wells, police officer of Los Angeles, Cal., showing her as she appears in street costume and wearing her police badge. Mrs. Wells, who is small and slight of flgdre, and possessed 61 a sympathetic face and manner, believes that the woman police officer can fill a niche in the affairs of the community into which the policeman proper cannot fit himself. Especially is this so where girls or women have already broken or are in danger of breaking the law, she says. And she has proved the soundness of her theories in the city that is wise enqugh to have appointed her.

VICAR SETS RECORD

Thirty-Seven Coupies Married in 75 Minutes. Confusion Will Result Unless Great Care Is Exercised—Woman Tells Minister Not to Marry Her to "Wrong Bloke.” London. —Thirty-seven weddings in seventy-five minutes, Beventy-four people made made happy at the rate of one a minute, was the record achieved by the vicar of St. Luke’s Canning Town (“the cathedral of the East”) and his curate on a recent holiday morning. Never was there such a rush of marriages at this beautiful church in Dockland. Despite all the persuasion of the vicar, these thirty-seven copies insisted upon being married on that particular morning, after due calling of banns and payment of fees. Canon Buckley would have spread the weddings over several days, but Canning Town refused, and only one couple postponed the ceremony. How was it done? The day before the ceremony was performed most of the couples called at the vicarage and furnished the particulars required for the registry of the marriage. By 9 o’clock next morning they began to assemble in a vestry-room adjoining the church. Here they were sorted out and instructed by the curate, and at 9:45 o’clock the couples marched In twos and threes—once six couples—at a time to the altar. By 11 o’clock they were all married. Canon Buckley maintains an admirable disciple Ih on such occasions. He permits no one to lay a trail of confetti In the church which be has labored for so many years to decorate and beautify. Before now he has been known to order a bride to leave the church and abajte the little colored bits of paper from her skirt before she approached dhe altar. He allows no laughter or tißklng, and should he see a woman's head uncovered he requires her at once to cover it with her apron. In spite, therefore, of the rough character of the people who flock to these holiday weddings, order is often better preserved than at a fashionable West End wedding. Poor though they are. brides of the dock workers and shipyard men of Canning Town Insist upon a “carriage wedding," with two horses and white favors. “What," said one bride in a tone of indignation, “me walk to my wedding! 1 should think not?” And the vicar's gentle hint of economy was lost When more than one pair stand be-

fore the altar some care has to be exercised to prevent a mixture of husbands and wives. The difficulty was increased at a recent double wedding at St. Luke’s when both brides happened to have the same name, which !ed to an audible request from one that she should not be married to “the wrong bloke.” As soon as the necessary words have been spoken the couples return to the vestry and others Immediately take their places. The signing of the registers is a source of considerable trouble. Not infrequently the men are married under wrong names and return to the church some weeks afterwards with a request that the vicar shall put the matter right.

TRY NUT DIET FOR CANCER

London Physician Is Confident the Dreaded Disease Can Be Cured by Means of Food. London. —A nut diet is the latest Idea in the medical world as a possible cure for cancer. Dr. Alexander Haig, the noted authority on the influence of uric acid in disease, is the one who advances this theory. In a letter to the Lancet, a medical publication, he appeals to the profession to assist him in probing the possibilities of a real cure of cancer by dieting. It has been generally assumed hitherto that when a recovery from cancer takes place the disease has not been properly diagnosed. Doctor Haig now appeals to his professional brethren to send him thirty or forty cases of inoperative cancer for treatment. He has for years held the belief that diet is an important point in the treatment of cancer. The cases he requires must have a probability of at least six months of life, as change of diet produces little visible effect on the patient under three months. ■ Doctor Haig’s treatment consists in putting the patient on a “free-from-urlc-acid” diet and from that on a nut diet, with fruit Juices and distilled water as ’the only liquids allowed.

Prize for Killing Owls.

Henry, Tenn. —Hawks and owls are killing so many chickens that farmers in Henry county have organized a hawk and owl club and are offering a purse of SIOO to the person killing the largest number.

Big Catch of Pike.

London.—Forty-two pike, weighing over 200 pounds, have been caught In one day's fishing in private water in Warwickshire by Messrs. T. and 0. Smith of Nuneaton.

AROUND by

LIVELY SCRAP IN TENNESSEE Interesting Account of M C*if Killer or Dug Hill” Battle— Twenty Out of 72 Get Away. ______ ' I have never read an account of what is known as the “Calf Killer or Dug Hill battle,” in White county, Tennessee. I don’t recollect* the date of the battle, but it was aafyfeilme in 1864. Seventy-two of ue followed Champ Ferguson, the noted guerrilla, all day until about four o’clock In the evening, and they set a thqjffor us. and we didn’t do a thing hut ride into it. I and two more comrades were advance guards, and we were some four hundred yards in advance, writes John W. Clark, bugler, First Tennessee M. T. D„ in the National Tribune. As we were riding along at ease, I noticed fresh horse traded' in the road. I looked up the road alKnft jnie hundred yards, Ahd saw two' JOhmjies sitting on their horses, wit&jjtete lying across their saddles, said: “Boys, yonder stand two confederates. Suppose we get them.” I raised my old navy, took good aim ands opened on them. The Johnnies broke, as we thought, for. life. I was bugler. I sounded.Jthe doublequiejk charge signal, and. :Ift out after them, - and about the time tee company caught up we spied, fines of battle formed. One line was- up to our right, on-high ground, about three hundred feet above us. We were in the Dug Hill road, which j ranged around the mountain about six hundred yards from where we entered it. At the loose end of this hill was another line of battle. By this time another line had formed behijtd us, and the Johnnies were cross-firing on tin three ways. We had a close ball. As I recollect it, 20 out of t1%j72 got out. John M. Hughes, colonel commanding the Tenth Tennessee, was back in the mountains, picking up deserters and conscripting, that country. He had gathered about seven hundred, including old Champ Ferguson's band of robbers and murderers, , And they were the ones we were fighting We fought our way back tiar way we came in. Wb fired every round of ammunition in the company and then used our sabers. 11118 little fight lasted from four o’clock until about six. The smoke' was so dense that you could not tell one map from another. Lieutenant Eniick Stone of the old Fifth Tennessee cavalry was in command. About six o’clock one Johnny ball passed. so close to my head that it left a blister* aIL the way across my forehead just, above my eyes. Just after that Another - cut

”I Sounded the Double-Quick Charge.”

my bridle reins in two between my hand and my horgfe’s 'beck. We were all pretty close together, and we started almost straight up the mountain, I In the rear by this time. A confederate caught my 1 horse by the tall and ordered me to lariirrender. I didn’t have a lead in eltiier of my navies and as I was bugler 1 wasn’t supposed to carry a gun. 1 drew my sword and gave a right-hand back cut, and I was free from him. I think we lost 52 men. At least one-half that number surrendered to Colonel Huse, as he was h regular soldier and promised to protect them. He did so by passing them back to the rear to old Champ, who shot them in cold blood. tVe got this Information from a couple of old negroes, and they said that we killed naord of them than they did of us. We were 12 miles from Sparta. Tenn.. and arrived there, about two o’clock. About four o'clock Pickett came In. He reported that he was taken prisoner, and took the oath to never take up arms against she south, so he resigned his offlco and went home, and I think of all the nervous men I ever saw during the war he was the,worst. The next day we went back through that country with *OO picked men—that is. men who volunteered to go—and not a confederate could we find in arms. .' ' „ jEgjPI In society It Is always , easier to do the proper thing Hum the right thing. 1 '