Evening Republican, Volume 17, Number 131, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 2 June 1913 — Page 2

SLOW WITH WIDOWS

But Mrs. Crabtree’s Lemon Pies Were Good and She Was Coy.

By CARL JENKINS.

Of course Deacon Hartley, widower, knew that there was such a person in the Tillage of Dalton as Mrs. Crabtree, . - . / -. ... He knew that she was a -widow. He knew thgt she attended hi* church. , In fact he passed her house at least ten times a weblt ' The Deaeon knew things and would not have denied them, but he was going slow on widows. During the eight years he had been a widower four different attempts had been made to lasso him for another trip in the saddle of matrimony—two by widows and two by old maids. The Deacon was a sly old bird of sixty. He was comfortably well off. the days passed peacefully, and he wasn’t taking any risks. And the four attacks on him by the four women had made him so suspicious of the sex that If a woman stopped him on the sidewalk and asked the time of day there seemed to be a hidden motive somewhere.

The widow Crabtree had never sought to advance herself in the attention of the Deacon. If he bowed as they encountered each other at the church door she bowed. If he remarked that it was a fine morning she agreed. On one occasion he asked whether old Mrs. Thompson was dead or not, and she had replied that she guessed-not, as she had seen her out mending the stable door the afternoon before. It cannot be said that Mrs. Crabtree was either sixty years old or a sly bird, but she may have had thoughts and plans. It’s just possible that she may have picked up a hint from a remark dropped by a neighbor one day. The Deacon’s *name happened to come into the conversation, and the neighbor said: “Isn’t it queer about the Deacon’s appetite?”

“How do you mean?” "Why, he's a regular fiend for lemon pie. He wants one at every meal." "You don’t say!” “And that’s about all he does want He’s had about three housekeepers a year since his wife died, and has let them all go because they couldn’t make good lemon pies. Aunt Sally Smith is there now, but she was telling me the other day that she don’t expect to stay long. He says her lemon pies would kill a dog.” Nothing further was said, but there was a germ of a big Idea. The Deacon always went to the postofflce after supper. Sometimes he passed the widow’s and sometimes he went the other way. She took her chances the afternoon of the conversation and baked a lemon pie. Mrs. Crabtree had never boasted of her skill as a pie-maker, but when it came to a lemon pie she had a twist of the wrist that turned them out for a king. At six o’clock on that summer evening the Deacon came walking down Spruce street He had just got up from the table, and on that table had been lemon pie. Aunt Sally Smith had done her level best The Deacon had cut the pie in halves and lifted half up -in his hand and taken a bite of it and exclaimed:

“Take the darn thing off!” “But It’s a fine pie, Deacon.” “It tastes like a raw carrot!” “Mercy on me!” “Feed It to the pig!" “Deacon, you must surely have eaten green cherries and got a bad taste in the mouth. I never took such pains with a lemon pie.” “You never knew how to make one, and you are too old now to learn. By jinks, I wish I knew of a woman within a hundred miles of here that knew how to make a lemon pie—a real lemon pie!”

Aunt Sally started to the kitchen with quivering chin, and Deacon Hartley shoved back from the table and got his hat and cane and started for the postoffice. The widow Crabtree was watching for him. He came down Spruce street with a scowl on his face, and as he reached a point opposite her gate she opened the door and called: “Just a minute, please, Deacon.** "Well, what Is It?" “I am going to ask you rather a funny question. Do you like pies?’* “I don’t care for mince or apple.” “But lemon F’ “I can eat three a day If they are made right,’* said the Deacon as his mouth began to water. “I made one this afternon, and I should like your opinion of It. Will you come in and sample it?** “Bless me, yes.” That pie was on the table waiting for him. His eyes began to dance at the first look. It was a noble looking pie. It seemed to smile in his face.

There was Juice there. There was a crust there as flaky as the hark on a spring willow. At last he had found the hope of his heart. The widow cut the pie in quarters and passed him one of them. He ate this standing up, and with great gusto. Then he ate the next section sitting down and he smacked his .lips just seven times. “Have another?*’ He would. “And don’t leave this piece to be lonesome.” He didn’t It followed the other three, with many a smack and grunt, and then the Deacon stood up to any ■' L • "Widow Crabtree, 1 never tasted

“Thank you. Deacon." “I never tasted aa good." "You are so kind.” "If I could only have such pies every day—yum! yum!” On the next day Aunt Sally determined to suit the Deacon’s taste for lemon pie or break a leg. She went to no less than five of the neighbors for advice, and she was as careful as she would have been with the works of a watch, but when the good man came to sample it he shook his head and said: “There’s a leetle improvement—jest a leetle. I could tell it from dried pumpkin, but that’s about all!" "But what can be the matter with it?” asked Aunt Sally in despair. “ 'Tain’t lemon pie.” "But I put in two lemons.” “Guess they crawled out again!" “You know they couldn’t, Deacon. Doctor Sholes says that too many lemon pies will destroy the stomach.” “But I don’t want but three a day!” “It’s so funny that I can’t suit you. You must get a peculiar taste in the mouth jest before your meals. You don't chaw tobacco, do you?” "You know better.” “You don’t eat sorrel?" “Course not” “Nor pucker your mouth up with green plums’” “Humph!” “Well, I see that I may as well commit suicide first as last!” she wailed as he left the. house. .. It was down Spruce street again, and again the widow came to the door. This time she said: “Deacon, I just happened to make another lemon pie today.” “Good!” "And if you will step in—" ‘Why, of course.”

The pie was devoured and pronounced even better than the one before, if possible. He lingered for a few minutes this time, but their conversation was only friendly. He was bland and the widow was coy, just as should be. It got to be the thing for the Deacon to stop and eat a lemon pie every evening, and sometimes he remained for an hour afterwards. This can’t be done in a village without gossip. By and by, without the principals having heard a whisper, the parson of the Deacon’s church called him to the study and said: “Deacon, they say you are courting widow Crabtree?” "Haln't even thought of it, parson." “But you call there every evening." “Parson, do you like lemon pie?” was asked. "Why, yes." “Well, the widder Crabtree makes the best in the land. That’s what I stop for—-to eat one of her fresh-baked lemon pies.” The parson leaned back and thought for a minute and then said: "If I was a widower—” * "Yes?" “And I knew a nice widow—” “Yes?” “Who could make the best lemon pie in Davis county—” “Yes?” “I’d fall in love with and marry her within three months!” “And darn my old hat if I don’t do it!" And he dia, and at last accounts he was eating his three lemon pies a day, and the couple was very happy. XCopyright, 1913, by the McClur* -Newspaper Syndicate.)

It’s No Use.

Miss Inez Milholland, the wellknown and charming suffragist, was arguing with an “anti” at a dinner at the Colony club in New York. “Oh, you are unfair,” she said. “You turn even our merits against us. You are like Raln-ln-the-Face. “Chief Rain-in-the-Face was once escorting a woman in a canoe across a Canadian lake which the Indians held in superstitious dread, believing that if one spoke while crossing the lake one would inevitably be destroyed by the Great Spirit. “Well, the woman thought she would cure the Indians of this silly superstition, and so, in the middle of the lake, she sang a song at the top of her voice. “Rain-in-the-Face was overcome with dread and horror. He signed to his paddlers to paddle faster, and the men strained every nerve. In silence they soon landed the canoe on the opposite bank. “Then the woman said to Raln-ln- “ 'There! I hope you’re convinced now that one can talk and sing while crossing the lake without angering the Great Spirit?’ “ ’Huh,’ said Raln-ln-the-Face scornfully. *The Great Spirit is merciful. He knows a woman can’t keep still.* *

Where Farming Is on a Big Scale.

E. W. Howe of Atchison, who is globe-trotting again, writes from Melbourne: “In the washroom of the sleeping car, early this morning, I met an American, a Boston man, who has been a gentleman farmer in Australia for 12 years. He told me he owned 52,000 acres of land, and that, whereas he came here with nothing 12 years ago, he would not take >1,500,000 for what he owns now. He originally visited the country on business,thought he detected great possibilities, and came here to live. He didn’t know corn from barley when he began, but applied business rules to farming, and has succeeded. I expressed surprise as to his large land holding, whereupon he told me that in the interior there are sheep farms 500 miles square, or as big as the state of Kansas. This land is leased from the government at a penny an acre. Artesan wells 3,000 feet deep are being bored, and these wells are greatly benefiting the arid district” —Kansas City Star.

TWELVE THOUSAND MILE CRUISE FOR TWO BRIDAL COUPLES

Two happy brides started from New York the other day for a 12,000-mile cruise up the Amazon on a honeymoon which will last two months. The party will cruise farther up the Amazon than is usual for excursionists. Mr. Benedict, the owner of the yacht Oneida, considers this unexplored region the most beautiful in the world and has visited it several times. The members of the party are: Seated, from left to right, Mrs. Colgate Hoyt (bride), Commodore E. C. Benedict, Mrs. Richard Sinclair Blair (bride). Standing, from left to right, Mrs, Edwin Beers, Mrs. Gerhard, Colgate Hoyt, Dr. Griffin, Dr. Joies.

SHUKRI PASHA’S PLEA

Wanted World to Know That He Did Not Surrender

Details of Manner In Which Noted Turkish Commander Was Made a Prisoner at Adrianople by Victorious Bulgarians.

Sofia, Bulgaria.—One of the mogt interesting incidents of the fall of Adrianople was the manner in which Shukri Pasha, the brave defender of the city, was captured. When brought to Sofia he emphasized the fact that he did not surrender to, but was captured by the Bulgarians. His capture, indeed, was a romantic one. During those eventful days, March 24 and 25, upon which the fate of the capital of Thrace was decided, Shukri Pasha’s activity was Intense. He was directing affairs everywhere. When, after a series of most bloody encounters the victorious Bulgars of the Twenty-third regiment had come to the last Turkish fortification and there was a pause and a wavering for a moment, Lieutenant Colonel Pashinoff. seizing the regiment’s flag, spurred his horse forward, shouting: “My boys, for the honor of Bulgaria, for the honor of our army, for the honor of the Twenty-third regiment, forward! Follow me!” These words had a magic effect upon the men, and one after another all the forts connected with tt\e Aivas-Baba fell into the hands of the Bulgarians. When the Turkish officials and population found out that resistance was hopeless and that the whole city was enveloped by the Bulgarians, they began to surrender. Lieutenant Colonel Marcholeff, after sending two detachments of his cavalry into various directions of the city to Institute order, started for the government house, where he surprised a large number of the .Turkish officials and pashas, among whom were Ismaiel Pasha, commandant of the city, Rifaat Pasha, commander of the artillery, and others. “Where Is Shukri Pasha?” demanded Marcholeff. "We don’t know,” was the answer. The Bulgarian officer drew his revolver and, pointing It at Rifaat Pasha, shouted again: Is Shukri Pasha?” Rifaat, with a Aolheadedness typical of a Turkish pasha, answered: “We do not know, but if you will wait a minute I will inquire about him.” With Rifaat Pasha leading, the party started for Hasderluck.

At Hasderluck the Bulgarians found some 300 officers and officials gathered there for safety. Shukrl Pasha, however, was not among them. Here Marcholeff recognized Teklr Bey, an old acquaintance, of whom he asked where the commandant of Adranople was. He was immediately led to a small annex, in the basement of which Shukrl Pasha, together with ten*>f his trusted officers, had taken refuge. Colonel Marcholeff, on opening the door of the underground chamber, at once knew who Shukri Pasha was. He first saluted him and then said: “In the name of dur royal majesty, the king, I command you to follow me. You are a prisoner!” Shukri Pasha was thunderstruck at the suddenness of the procedure. After recovering from the shock he answered coolly, “I beg to say that I am not a prisoner, (or I have sent messengers who have not yet returned. I have just sent four more.” .**K is too late,” was the reply of Colonel Marcholeff. “All of yohr forts have fallen, your army has been beaten at all points and your soldiers and officers have been made prisoners.”

On hearing this, Shukri Pasha wept like a child. Then he said: “I didn’t think the end would come so soon." “Do not be depressed, general,” said Colonel Marcholeff. “Your splendid defense of the city has elicited the admiration of the whole world. Come, let us go. The orders are to take you to General Ivanoff.” “Kindly wait a minute more,” entreated the aged man. Meanwhile he sat down and began writing something. On finishing he turned to the colonel and asked him to read what he had written. “You and I are soldiers,” he said. "We have our enemies, and I especially sign this paper in which I describe how I and my staff were captured. Our enemies may say we have surrendered, when, Allah! I never thought of surrendering the city." - Colonel Marcholeff complied with his request Half an hour later Shukri Pasha and General Ivanoff met. The Bulgarian general showed the greatest civility and respect for the Turkish commander, telling him that the defense was almost equal to the attack. “The defense of Adrainople will add great luster to both Bulgarian and Turkish history,” declared General Ivanoff.

WILEY HITS OSLER THEORY

Maximum of Efficiency Not Reached Until Three Score, Says Pure Food Expert.

Washington.—Men and women sixty years old and over are the real benefactors and the actual workers for the uplift of the human race, in the opinion of Dr. Harvey W. Wiley, formergovernment “pure food” expert, who made the declaration to the Washington Secular leagues. Dr. Wiley was distinctly opposed to the Osler theory And insisted that It was possible to grow old without becoming senile. “The Idea that the great services to humanity are rendered by young men and women,” Dr. Wiley said, “is shown

Dr. Harvey Wileys

by the facta to erroneous. These services are rendered by elderly men and women. We do not reach the maximum of efficiency until the age of sixty."

Deporting White Slave Gang.

New York. —Five Italians and a Russian. said to be members of a gang of white slavers, are on their way to New York city from Kansas City for deportation. Rostna Tortorlca, one of those to be deported, is said to be the most noted white slaver in the world, having operated in every large country in the United States and Europe. She was caught in a recent raid in Kansas City,

ACT OF BRITISH AMBASSADOR

Sir Cecil Bprlng-Rice Give* Personal Aid to Young Man Hurt by an Automobile.

Washington.—Sir Cecil Spring-Rice, the ambassador from Great Britain, although only here a few days as sue* cessor to James Bryce, already has shown the same democratic characteristics that endeared his predecessor to the capital. It developed recently that while the ambassador was on his way

Sir Cecil Spring-Rice.

to the Chevy Chase club in the embassy automobile the chauffeur became confused "as to the direction. “Stop and we will inquire the way,” ordered the envoy, observing a young man approaching on foot. “Can you direct us to the Chevy Chase club?” he inquired of the pedestrian, who stepped into the roadway as the big car came to a stop. The man was almost immediately struck by a car tearing cityward. “Are you hurt?” asked Sir Cecil, jumping from the motor. The young man, who proved to be Odle Howe, a street car conductor off duty, protested that he was not, but found he could not walk. Despite his protests, he was bundled into the embassy car and whirled to his home. Sir Cecil himself lifting him in. The ambassador made inquiry into his condition.

NO SECRET DIVORCE TRIALS

Every Court In England Open to Every Subject and Must Leave Doors Open, Is Ruling. London. —An end has been put to the possibility of secret proceedings in divorce and other suits in the United Kingdom by a judgment delivered by the house of lords, sitting as the highest court of appeals. The dlyorce court had adjudged a Mrs. Scott guilty of contempt of court in circulating among her friends the report of a case heard “in camera” la which she had been accused of infidelity, but had been vindicated. The lord chancellor’s opinion, in which the other law-lords concurred, reverses the judgment for contempt of court. The lord chancellor declares: “Every court of justice in the land is open to every subject of the king and a court has no power to sit otherwise than with open doors."

Leg Tax Makes Him Peevish.

Kansas City, Mo. —Indignant that county assessors should levy a tax on his cork leg, Joseph Lynch has do manded exemption, or taxation of all women on switches, puffs and other aids to nature. "It you put my legs on the tax list, you must assess all the false teeth and glass eyes in the county," was the ultimatum of Lynch to the assessors.

STORIES of CAMP AND WAR

FIGHT AT SABINE CROSSROADS

Thirteenth Corps Rescued After Order h Had Been Given for Every Man \ to Save Himself. v I was serving in Battery G, Fifth regulars, and was assigned to the ; Fifth brigade, cavalry corps, and was on the advance in the Red River expedition, writes Henry K. McFadden of Cedar Grove, Me., in the National Tribune. We had been following the Confederates as fast as we could to prevent them from burning cotton. All the time it was drawing us from the Nineteenth corps. We had got ahead of the Third and Fourth divisions of infantry. They hurried the Fourth along, and sent for the Third division ,but the Confederates at aSbine Crossroads came around through the woods on our right flank to cut! off our retreat. The wagon train had been following right along, day after day. They would stop for an hour or so, while we had a duel with the Confederates;] then they would come right along.) They crossed Padre’s bayou, and when: they turned the corner and were retreating on another road the Confederates began to Are. The teamstersobliqued to the side of the road and ran, and a caisson of Battery G went to go between two wagons, when thewheel of the caisson locked into the wheel of a wagon. Just then Gem. Stoneman rode along and gave the order for every man to look out for himself. I stepped out between the wheels, and Comrade Briggs, a driver, was. shot in the neck, taken prisoner and died of his wounds. I met some savalry. They engaged with the Confederates, and I came to an opening where the Nineteenth corps was> forming. General Banks was riding along between the two lines, telling them the Thirteenth corps wasi whipped, and if they were defeated all would be lost General Stone was on his horse, telling every man to fall in the rear of the Nineteenth corps. In about half an hour or less theConfederates came out of the woods in a good line of battle, and when they got up to within 300 yards Banks ordered the Ninetenth corps to fire by volley. They loaded and fired again, then loaded and lay down, and let tha Thirteenth corps fire over them. The Confederates charged our right flank, but were driven back, and as near* as I can remember we fired five or six times. After dark Banks posted pickets. All honor to the Nineteenth corps, that saved the Thirteenth corps.

GEN. U. U. GRANT.

Born April 27, 1822. Died July 22, 1885. By Capt, David A. Murphy. .1. Humble in birth, regal in worth, Great captain of war hosts; Mighty in will, matchless in skill, Not given to idle boasts. In God-like gifts his lack waa scant. Hero of heroes, U. S. Grant! 11. A peerless knight, fearless In fight. And kingly from his birth; Born to command, tn action grand, Liked not music or mirth. His loyalty no sickly plant. Hero of heroes, U. 8. Grant! 111. Hailed as Hero, not a NeroLee's army, whipped, was fed; Horses he gave, harvests to save, ■*L*t us have peace,” he said. The Blue and Gray his praises chant. Hero of heroes, U. 8. -Grant! .

Hoosier Straightforwardness.

An Indiana chaplain at one of the camps near Corinth selected for singing the hymn commencing: “Shaw pity, Lord; oh, Lord, forgive; Let a repentant rebel live.” He had scarcely uttered the last word of this line, when a soldier earnestly cried out: “No, Lord, unless he lays down his arms." While the clergyman was offering the concluding prayer a rifle shot was heard as if from our pickets a mile beyond. The report of the gun was Immediately followed by an exclalmatlon from the same Hoosier. "Lord, if that’s a Union shot, send the bullet straight; an’ if it ain’t, hit a tree with it, oh, Lord.”

His Work Finished.

During the opening stages of the war a New York soldier was told that there were three rebs to every Union soldier then in Virginia. He went into action at Bull Run with great vigor, but later his company sergeant was horrified to see him shoulder his rifle and calmly march to the rear. “Where are you oft to?” he roared. “Me?” he replied. Oh, I’ve killed three of the enemy; I’ve done my share, so I’m off back to Washington to get my pay."

Conciliatory Mesmerism.

General Garfield once aptly illustrated, by quoting the following quotation from an old English nursery rhyme, the policy of those extrableached and super-superior patriots who sought to put down the rebelllqn with conciliatory mesmerism: "There was an old man who said, how Shall I fleet from this horrible eowt I will sit on the stile And continue to smile, Which may soften the heart of the COW."