Evening Republican, Volume 17, Number 13, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 15 January 1913 — Page 3

IN DARK CORNER

Wife’s Inflexible Fidelity and Cunning Saves Husband from the Gallows.

By GEORGE S. ROLANDS.

The woman's voice rang out clear, Bharp, insistent, and as the notes drifted through the hazy summer air a man pulled upon the reins of his horse quickly; "Hello, Mary—l didn't see you.” "I reckon it is time you did —makin’ me run, tired as I am, down that path of turning stones.” She paused extending her young brown arms, grasping the tops of the seat and so lifting herself easily up beside him. “I let you go round the bend, Jim, ’cause I was speculatin’ as to the likely chances of your givin’ that revenue officer with that burden of his a lift down.” The man shifted slightly so as to, give her more room, and his face as he turned it to the woman’s was flushed deeply. “I tol’ him, Mary, if he got me a load of ’em I’d do it maybe. Seeing chances is slim, I reckon they’ll bd a long time before askin’ an’ the walk ain’t none too ’vigoratin’.” They both gazed down the broken mountain path, edged sharply by bushes and tall grasses. Wild flowers and ferns flung their sweet odor on the hot dust and shriveled in the heat. Below moved a tiny spot. Two men staggered and toiled beneath the weight of a great body whose very inertness and laxity taxed their strength cruelly. “So they got him?” the woman breathed, her eyes suddenly dark and flashing. "Yep—one gone—but Jeff went too in the doin’." “Shorty makes two.” “Shorty ain’t gone yet.” "Nope." Silence settled, broken only by the creaking of the leather harness, the heavy breathing of the man and the almost imperceptible sighing of the girl. “Say, do you reckon it’ll be sV>n — yes?” “I can’t tell, Mary, ain’t heard as yet. Was it one or two?” “One sneakin’, gsod-for-nothin’ revenue officer, only one,” she said almost regretfully. “He was spyip’ and what ought a Bpy to get? But, Shorty?” The man sighed. “That’s it, what’ll he. get?” ‘ “Dark corner an’ the cabin ’t ’ll be gone. Are you sure there ain’t no chance —not one?” “Say, Mary, what er you cringin’ fer? You ain’t scared o’ death —no, you ain’t scared o’ nothin’.” But the woman’s eyes that held the purity of the southern skies in color filled slowly and uhder the limp sunbonnet her lips trembled. One brown hand twisted her iapron string—gently. “Wal, you see—up ter now I ain’t been afraid o’ nothin’, but now, now that things is changed there’ll be a little stranger in Dark Corner — an’, an’ —it’ll be powerful lonesome without his Pappy.”

They both paused, the mad letting the reins fall lax and the woman allowing her hands to stretch out as though In dumb appeal. “You seer — we had such nice times In Dark Corner. Shorty an’ I used ter tramp th’ hills In springtime, each one tryln’ to find the robin’s nest first or the wild rose peekin’ thro’ some hedge—l kind o’ planned to —” The man brought his whip down Bharply upon the horse’s back, touching Its foaming flanks again and again, and as It reared on its haunches In anger he swore a loud oath and sent the wagon rumbling and tumbling down the steep grade at a dangerous pace. Towards the bottom only he slackened his mad race—beside two bent figures, dust-covered, hatlpss, staggering on In the heat. One of them waved and Instantly the cart drew up alongside df them. “Enjoyin’ the exercise, Mr. Revenue Officer? It’s a nice warm day, ain’t It? An’ you passed the last stretch of water two miles gone already—” He grinned horribly at the exclamation of dismay that escaped the men’s lips. “Now I want yer to understand that I ain’t bein’ unsociable —nor unfriendly at all, but It’s like walkin’ ter Hell to get to town —but If this woman can do It, you can." “But she Isn’t walkin’.” "Not today—but she has for sixty long others an’ she ain’t whimpered either.” “Why don’t you stay In Dark Corner, where you rats belong?” “Jest for one reason, Mr. Officer; she’s trainin’ to walk so’s when you all get to Hell her road’ll be pasler than yours by practice —’’ And with a sharp crack of the whip they trotted on. That night the woman fell exhausted upon the steps of her little cabin. It had seemed endless, the Journey, the dingy prison, the hours of hopeless despair and planning, the empty promises, the farewell at dusk, and the long climb home. A round white moon had dipped across the crest of a wooded hill and threw Its light full upon her tired, exhausted figure; and so it was that the man saw her first, one arm flung in defiance across the the threshold of her home, and upon the wanq night air he heard her sob aloud In pitiful anguish. Because of this his voice held a note of gentleness when he spoke that was rar£ "I beg your pardon.” She sprang erect, eyes flashing, sup* pie and slim enmity lb every breath she drew, “Why have you come?” “It was quite by accident, I assure you—”

“You’re a spy. That’s what you are —that’s what you are here for. You’re here —in Dark Corner —a revenue officer-— 1 * “I reckon I know where I am." . "Yes, but you ain’t reckoned on me —l’m a better shot than Shorty ever, was —" ' “An’ you’d better stop—quit quick, or you’ll be where he too.” The woman kept a sullen 'silence. "You moonshiners are a bad lot —■ that’s all. I warn you to quiet the others down, or they’ll be countin’ barß with Shorty. Let, me see your distillery." Her slender figure stiffened slowly and barred the doorway. “Did you hear me?” Still no answer, “So the blood runs warm, eh? You’re one of those wild roses all thorns—?” He grasped her wrist firmly. “Skin ness—what if Shorty came back? Eh? Is it worth—?” “What?” “Say, a kiss and—”, He stepped back hurriedly, afraid of the glitter in her-eyes, silenced by the awful agony in her face. “I reckon the hangin’ of Shorty will square matters here —an’ there ain’t no uee of no more revenue officers trackin’ our corn down,” she said slowly and bitterly. “You won’t distill any more whisky —then?” “I ain’t sayln’ yes nor no —but the trail down is a sight cooler by night than by day—an’ there ain’t nobody to take you away in case of accidents like happened to your friend today. Almsie, he said (this mornin’ that he might lug a load down but not one—an’ anyway Dark Corner ain’t so powerful big that it can hold you an’ me together comfortably.” ,/ . And bo he turned before her eyes that burned like a fiery sea; but later, when the wind sighed in the pine boughs denoting the first flush of daybreak he crept back, puzzled by a strange hacking sound. Inside through the chinks of the rough wall he beheld the girl, ax in hand, chopping pine. She had fashioned a queer object which her flnflers touched lovingly, in a wondering pitiful way—fitting notch to notch With strange haste. At last she straightened, bent and Bhoved it ever so gently with her foot so that the clumsy, crude thing rocked to and fro —while she fell above it arms crossed in a paroxysm of uncontrolled grief.

“Say, Mary, ain’t yon tired walkin’ every day now In this awful heat?” The man drew her tenderly into his arms as the iron door clanged to. “No, Shorty, I ain’t never tired when you are at the end. An,’ an,’ Shorty, think when we are back alone —” She paused, suddenly confused —"we won’t never be alone again—win we though? But when we get back, and he grows up so big an’ strong in the forest, Shorty, an’ you teach him about the birds an’ how to trap —we’ll be happy?” “But I ain’t never cornin’ back, Mary." She swallowed hard aB she brushed the dust off her bootp. "But you are, Shorty—why the birds wouldn’t sing no more, nor the sun wouldn’t never shine again in Dark Corner —nor —nor could we do without you—PapjfS’,’’ and in the wonder of the new name she slipped closer within his arms,, and resting her head on his shoulder they talked as though the cabin walls surrounded them and the sweet air was fanning their cheekß. She told him of all she had done and how she would show him the little cradle the first thing when he came home. That night she tpiled up the trail for the last time for many, many weeks —and each day that drew nearer came the date set for Shorty Bill’s death. He scarcely noticed day or night, so great and terrible was his anxiety. The Jailer got a permit after that which gave her the privilege of spending each night in his cell and leaving at the first gleam of dawn. A week passed and finally the last day came, when all hope was abandoned and they parted quietly at daybreak. She clung to him as a wounded animal clings to Its dying mate, and then with her son in her arms turned sharply and left the prison. The jailers and the revenue officers came promptly two hours later, but with reluctant hands they turned the lock and entered. “Shorty.” one said, “we’re sorry.” A sob was the only answer. “Brace up, Bill —don’t give way—come.” They started to lift him to his feet —but with a trembling wall the body stood rigid, hair flung over the worn coat In a gleaming mass. “Almsie was right—l wasn’t sheared of death, but since—since —the little stranger came—to Dark Corner —I was a’feared. He needed him powerful much —to —to teach him about birds and—to —trap. A boy needs a Pappy more In the Blue Ridge than a Mammy—an’—an’ .maybe the sun will shine after —" , SJie paused, throwing her hands before her. "No, don’t you all dare touch me. I’m cornin’ peaceable an’ quiet. 1 ain’t skeered o’ death an’ anyway that road I’ve traveled for tour months wiy. make the beglnnln’ to Hell easy. Let me alone — What Back to Pappy? Back to Dark Cdrner? Oh. God!” and her little body slid to the floor.

Motive Counts.

“Yes. your honor,” said ’Rastua in police court, “I’se guilty; I stole them pants. But, your honor, there ain’t no ■in when the motive am good. 1 done stole them pants to gst bavtiflbd Ip.” -Ufa.

RAILWAY TRAVEL in RUSSIA

THINGS that were wont to figure as bugbears jn the old ‘ day travel of Russia are now but memories. The ways of the bureaucracy have become more liberal and less rigid, so that traveling today in that country is as pleasant and comfortable as in most countries, and a good deal less expensive than in many. Besides no other country in Europe “can offer more beautiful scenery, more objects of new interests, or pleasanter conditions of life and climate” than some parts of Rubsia that are quite accessible to the\ tourist. , The only difficulty a journey in Russia occasionally presents, in places off the beaten track, is that of the language. Railway travel ’in Russia leaves much to be desired, however. For example, accommodation on one much-traveled road last summer the demand for first-class space was so pressing that travelers were sometimes compelled to wait their turn for a week, while the demands of officials for “tea-money” Increased with the competition. This train has ilelther restaurant nor sleepers. Nothing Realiy Matters. Russia is the land of “Nichevo,” the country where nothing really matters, even as Spain is the land of the tomorrow that never comes. Let the traveler realize this at once and for all; let him recognize the fact that he has left behind him,-"at the German frontier, businesslike habit's, punctuality, scrupulous accuracy of statement and all such commercial virtues. Let him in their place accept and enjoy the easy-going and tolerant attitude of a people which faces life and all its problems with a certain leisurely and speculative stoicism, an attitude which, after all, has much philosophy and a good deal of religion in its favor. Let him adapt himself to his Slav environment and he will speedily find himself enjoying the human comedy from a new and instructive point of view—the point of view of a race of “thinking children,” for whom the world of ideas is more than all the cold facts and figures of trade. The man who must needs carry with him on a Journey his own country and all his fixed habits had better remain at home, for the science and fine art of traveling consists in reducing our material necessities and local fads to a minimum. For all that, those whose pleasure it is to Journey with “all the comforts of a home” can do so today on all the main lines of travel in Russia —from Riga to St. Petersburg, Moscow, Nizhni, Rostov-on-the-Don, and Odessa. International wagon-lits, polyglot porters, electric lifts, and meals served to the wailing of Hungarian music, all are there, combining the creature comforts of a trip to Paris with a rapid impression of the landscapes and people of Russia. But for the man who can doff on occasion his garments of custom, to whom the cities of men offer something more than museums and meals, the byways of desultory travel in Russia open up a new and inspiring field of recreation and knowledge. Especially wondflHul are the unfrequented beauties of the Caucasus and the Armenian highlands, all that fertile and historic land which lies betweerrvthe Black Bea and the Caspian; and the journey thence, from Tiflis by railway and steamer, to Tashkend and Fergana, Bokhara and Samarkland. Here, in a summer vacation's wanderings, one may see Europe and Asia overlapping and dovetailing, thelf conflict of ethics and economics acting and reacting at a thousand points of absorbing Interest; and all in comfort quite sufficient for any sensible man. Buying Railway Tlckata. In buying tickets at a Russian railway station, one soon learns also that it is wiser to book them in advance, for the drawbacks of the “Nichevo” system of philosophy are nowhere so conspicuous as at a crowded ticket office. To the writer it has happened on nearly every railway in Russia, including the TransSiberian at Moscow, and at Kharbln, that, after being informed at the ticket office that no sleeping-car accommodation waa available, a coupe has been forthcoming on the train as the result of largesse to the conductor and other douceurs. On one occasion. boarding the Revei-Petersburg express at Welmarn station at 4 a. m„ 1 was informed by the conductor that there was no room except in the cor-

ridor, only to discover that every department was occupied by a single passenger with a single ticket, each of whom had paid the conductor for undisturbed privacy. Incidents of this kind are contrary" to ‘ the AngloSaxon’s ideas of the fitness of things, but they can usually be adjusted by invoking the intervention of any disinterested member of the staff, say, the next station master. The patience with which the average Russian, suckled in the “Nichevo" creed, endures these things, is at first a source of constant surprise to the foreigner; not only a race that has borne for centuries with bureaucratic inefficiency could thus accept them as part of the established order of things immutable.

I remember, one hot afternoon last July, watching the sale of tickets to passengers by a Black Sea steamer at Novorossisk. There was a surging crowd and but one ticket office, with a tiny window, some four feet high, at which each suppliant squirmed in turn, and inside it sat a weary clerk, apparently utterly Indifferent to time and tide and all the things that struggled under an unkind heaven. In the Intervals of his toil, after writing out an officer’s special ticket In duplicate with a reluctant pen, he would light a cigarette, sighing heavily, and sip his lemonade tea, oblivious of the perspiring crowd. And again, when he had issued to an ordinary passenger his passage ticket and his berth ticket, his wife’s tickets, and a special ticket for the baby, and had carefully blotted all the endorsements thereon, the change out of a tenrouble note had to be laboriously calculated, and then checked on an abacus In the corner.

WOMAN RULES INDIAN STATE

Begam of Bhopal Has Governed Country Wisely and Well for Eleven Years.

There have been a few opportunities to know something of that interesting and unusual woman, the Regain of Bhopal, who has for the last eleven years been ruler of her country, the small state of Bhopal, in the middle of Central India. The Begam was born in 1858, and the free, Independent spirit of her family is shown by the fact that though a girl her advent was not knwelcome.

When she was seven years old arrangements were made for her marriage, and the boy selected for/her husband was brbught to the court and shared her studies. When the Begam. was fifteen they were married, and strangely enough, the marriage was a happy one. The Begam found in her husband a faithful friend, and it Is said'that she mourned his death very deeply. In 1888 the Begam’s eldest daughter died. She would have been her heir, the first born, Irrespective of sex, being In Bhopal the heir apparent.

In 1901 she became ruler owing to the death of her mother and at once set about improvements and reforms in all the various state departments. One of the Begam’s chief interests was education, particularity, too. the education of girls. She decided, therefore, to open and patronize personally a girls’ school. The education of girls in Bhopal was chiefly limited to a study of the Koran and the rudiments of the Urdu language, with here and there some Blight knowledge of writing learned from fathers and brothers. But their attendance at schools and their advancement in general knowledge was looked upon as a dangerous innovation.

Montenegrins Fatalists.

It Is only In recent years that Montenegrins have begun to appreciate the services of the hospital. Hulme Beaman, after visiting the country in 1889, wrote that the. people "take very little care of their children, and only the sound and the strong grow up. In after life, too, they are extremely averse to sanitary precautions or medical treatment, and a sick Montenegrin is almost synonymous with a dead man. At least, he at once gives himself up, and If he recovers looks upon It as a curious freak in nature’s laws. • • • The few who reluctantly submit to losing an arm or a teg invariably refuse anaesthetics and converse with their friends, smoking a cigarette while the knife and saw are at work.”

BATTLED OVER DOLL

CHILD’S PLAYTHING THE CAUBE OF FIERCE WARFARE.

African Bavages Looked Upon It as a Fetish, and Fought for Its Possession—Contest Lasted for V Many Months.

A young German Bavant, who waa sent on a scientific expedition to New Guinea, has just brought back a picture of a fatal doll and the extraordinary story connected with It. It was originally bought by a Dutch trader. Captain van Bergnik of Amsterdam, for his little twelve-year-old daughter. “I put into the port of Nagasaki in September, 1909,” said the captain, “and bought the doll in a bazaar. Soon afterwards we were obliged to anchor in Geelwinck bay, New Guinea, for repairs. j “For about a fortnight we had daily Intercourse with a tribe of Papuans on the coast, and I became very friendly with a man named Tarvar. "This aroused the anger of the chief, Katiak-Kho, who looked on our friendship with jealous eye. Tarvar was very fond of exploring the ship, and was struck with admiration for the doll the first time he came into my cabin. “As the young fellow had been very useful to me I made him a present of it, intending to buy another on my return to Nagasaki. Tarvar, left the ship with manifestations of exuberant j°y. “On the following day I heard some very sad news. The chief of the tribe accused the young warrior of theft, and split his head open with an ax. “He then fled into the interldr with the rest of his tribe. Fearful of losing the precious fetish, Katiak-Kho hid it in the folds of his cloak. "But the warriors noticed that their chief secretly left them at night to go and worship the little doll by moonlight in the forest. “One night they followed him and caught a glimpse of the chief’s marvelous doll. “He was not popular and a plot to kill him was soon on foot. Katiak-Kho was strangled at the foot of the tree where he was accustomed to commune with the idol. “The groans of the dying man attracted the attention of his brother and some of his friends, and a terrible battle ensued. Five men were killed and the victors ran farther into the recesses of the forest. "After days of wandering they found a suitable site at the foot of a mountain and built a new village. They thought themselves in safety, but the reputation of the idol came to the ears of the Alfakis, a warlike tribe, who determined to secure it at all costs. "The war between the Papuans and the Alfakis lasted for many mohths, and the little Japanese doll passed alternately from one camp to another. “Three hundred lives were lost in these battles, and the ddll is now in the possession of the victorious Alfakis, who have built a temple for it and declared it taboo.”

Rebuilding Underground Canal.

t About $2,000,000 is to be expended in rebuilding the underground section of the canal leading from the Marne to the Rhine. The Mauvages tunnel, as it is called, is three miles long; it was built sixty years ago and carries the canal under elevated ground at this point, ’the old masonry lining proving insufficient, a new and heavier lining of beton is being put in throughout the whole length. Navigation may not be stopped and the work is carried out on the Fougerolle system, which allows of working for short periods at a time. The process consists of dividing the tunnel Into 600-foot sections, each section being pumped dry in one hour’s time tc allow work to be carried on for one day, when the canal is again flooded to give passage to the boats. The pumping is done from two boatlike caissons, one at each end of the section. The tunnel is approximately elliptical with a two-foot eight-inch beton lining, the inside width of the section being about twenty-eight feet

England's One Real Humorist.

Perhaps England has had no real humorist since George Savile, marquis of Halifax, died, and that was in 1695. Halifax was the man who said that “if you think your place is beneath you, you certainly will be beneath it.” And he wrote an esßay once, which has lately been republished in exactly its original form, in which he congratulated the women who had fools for husbands. “A wife,’’ he said, “often maketb the better figure, for her husband's making no great one, and there seemeth to be no' reason why the lady that chooseth a waiting woman with worse looks may not be content with a husband with less wit” Take your orders from your husband (this was the, Halifax principle), but also take precious good care he gets these orders from you iu the first place.

It Pays.

At the urgent request of the advertising department we reprint this bit of logic from an unknown source:.. “When a duck lays an egg she Just waddles off as If nothing had happened. “When a hen lays an egg there’s s whale of a noise. "The hen advertises. Henoe the demand for hens* sggs instead ot lucks' eggs."

FINALLY LISTENED TO REASON

Old Gentleman, Explosive at First, Gave In to Young Man Who Asked for What He Wanted;

“What do you mean, sir, by presuming to sue for my daughter’s hand in marriage? Do yon forget that you are a mere underling In this establishment?” “No, sir, I don’t forget it for a moment” “ “Then why have you the presumption to suppose that I would permit my daughter to wreck her life by coming your wife?” “Yon remember that yon Vient me about a week ago to ask the president of the C. F. & W. railroad company to exteiid a spur np to odr warehouse, do you not?” “What bas that to do with what we have been discussing?” “Your partners objected, as yon will remember, because they were sure the railroad company would refuse." “That has nothing "to do with my daughter’s happiness.” “You told them they were fools, and said it would not cost ns anything to ask. I think you said, also, that people who never asked for what they wanted never got It I learned a great lesson right there. When I asked the president of the railroad company for the spur he flared up and said it waa preposterous; but I found out after a little while that he was capable of listening to reason. A hundred men are working on the spur now." “Do you insinuate that I’m not ear pable of listening to reason?” “No, sir. I think yon are. If 1 hadn’t thought so we’d have got married first and aaked your blessing afterward.” “Huh! You would, eh? Do yon know what I ought to do with yon?" "You ought to give me some encouragement for the ability I showed in getting that railroad president to do what you wanted done.” “Confound your impudence! Did my daughter ask yon to see me about this affair? Did she spur yon on?” "She didn’t seem to think it would be worth while, bnt her mother said she wished I would ask yon, because ; she thought it would please yon to be 1 consulted. She did the spurring."' "That's Just like my wife. There's one of the kindest and most thoughtful women alive. Say, my boy, promise me just one thing. Let them think 1 gave my enthusiastic consent without waiting for you to explain the sitnation."

Gold Production Nearing Maximum. From the present outlook in the gold mining industry of the world, gold production will have reached It* maximum within the next twelve months, and it is possible that 191 t will show a positive decrease, says H. C. Hoover in a recent article. Continuing with a review of the various countries in respect to their future gold production, Mr. Hoover says: “The placer gold of Europe was paaetically exhausted in Roman times. Lode mining there is a small industry and every foot of ground is known. In Asia the Chinaman has washed the gravels from Slam to Tibet Mongolia centuries ago. In lode mining I can say from three years of exploration there that he has long since exhausted the mines down to water level and if mines do exist it will be very slow business finding them. I do not myself believe there exists in China or Central Asia a district of such importance as to materially affect the question, for no greater illusion exists than that the Chinaman has any prejudice against mining for good—when he can make profit. And he can make lode mines profitable by hand labor on which we could not earn a cent with finest machinery ever built.” 4

Latest From Paris.

It may be true that the American Invasion ot Paris is Americanizing things there to an alarming extent, but there are places where the Frenchman still doggedly holds his own. One of these is a certain Paris hotel where an American recently ordered a cocktail. There was a delay. . The American grew impatient He beckoned to the head waiter. “Are they getting that cocktail for me?” asked the Am est can. “Certainly, Monsieur” answered the head waiter. “It will be ready in s. minute." There was more delay. The American began to futnb. Again he summoned the autocrat of the dining room. “How about that cocktail?" he asked. “Coming, sir. Just a moment, sir." Still more delay. The Americas grew profane. For the third time he called the bead waiter. “Tell me,’’ he said witherlngly, “do you know what a cocktail is?" The head waiter looked deeply offended. “Of course I de,“ he answered. “It's a kind of bouillon."

Bachelor’s Buttons.

“To the slim all things are possible.** “Women wear veils to hide the complexions they haven't got** "I ought to say love for one’s fellows and a brave heart are the most useful 'gifts to go through life ,wlth, but I am more inclined to say a thick skin or a vivid sense of humor.”— Bachelor’s Buttons, by Edward Burke-

Where Bravery Fades.

Mrs. Knicker—Did your husband* take you to the ball game? Mrs. Bocker —Tee, and I wonder why 1 can’t ever make him talk to th* cook like hs does to the umpire.