Evening Republican, Volume 18, Number 209, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 4 September 1914 — Page 2

HoW LITTLE WE KNOW

By JOE H. RANSON.

(Copyright.) I have often thought of what might have happened if Sam Spencer had not found me when he did. Destiny toiled along that dustdimmed flat, stooped, wearied, drymouthed, without doubt cursing the thoughtless being who led her thus for afield. Destiny stood by, perhaps, atop the burning plain, scornful, unwhlmpering. faithful. Picture tne dear lady, older than the Mlle whose profile beckoned like the jfroets of departed joys from the horison, dogging the steps of a thirst-mad nan, through dust-choked miles, until the weak being sprawled himself upon the sands to die. The memory of that mad, heartless, withering eon of fire is to me. of the haziness of the never-to-be-forgotten nightmare, a smear of flame—endless, hellish miles —a throbbing fountain of blood beneath my skull —myself a mindless, writhing automaton. I flung the canteen from me with a thick curse in the afternoon of the tint day. It was so hot that it burned my hands. The liquid that it gave me, its last sip, was heated to the point of Mood. I cursed the canteen and the mad gods that had led me into this pit of burning. Then I became the automaton and ctmply moved, without joy, pain, hate, fear, my head hung between my shoulders low to my breast, my arms hung listless at my sides, my legs moving forward each in its turn without my will, my back curved, a creeping, shiv«ring, grotesquely weeping thing, like unto a distorted spirit, moving with Infinite labor endless through the fevered acres of the damned. It is all a smear, a Horror hid in some recess of my brain, mercifully stripped of its nauseating details. The last concrete, tangible memory is of cursing the empty, senseless, scorching canteen as I hurled it from me. A man held me in his arms, pouring water upon my face, into my baked lips. It was like a fine, improbable dream. The dream passed, and I went once more into unconsciousness, any mad brain still fighting on through lhe fire. When I opened my eyes, with reaeon for the first time replacing the tangled phantasmagoria of horror, they rested upon the Interior of a log but, with skins clinging to the walls and a small, square window looking out upon the placid ranges. I wag alone. I noticed my hand upon the coverlet and' tried to raise It. The thing was.pale, bloodless, almost transparent. I could see each finger’s bone. An old scar on the back of the hand looked seared and old and whitened, like an aberration on a long-bleached bone. The hand refused to obey me. It fluttered, rose an inch and dropped back feebly upon the sheet / Then a man came in. He had been ■sharpening a hatchet outside, and he bad it in his hand when he sat down by the bedside. He told me that his name was Sam Spencer, and that I had been his guest five weeks. He said it was a hundred and fifty miles to a doctor. He had pulled me through alone. He had found me lying as dead on the sand and brought me to his hut and fought with the death that already claimed me. He told me of the fever that had burned me, of the fiendfob visions that had Strength came slowly at first, then, tn the quick mountain air, with leaps and bounds. A fortnight saw me walking about the cabin, doing light work. A month and I was stronger than I had been in my life. Spencer was a miner. He had prospected ten years. He had had some success, enough to keep his own faith and that of the men who grub-staked him. But he never realized his dreams. He had lived the ten years mostly alone, in the hills, sometimes six months without sight of human visage. When I had fully regained my strength, Sam Spencer made me a proposition. My company for three months had spoiled him, he said, for solitude. He had worked alone before, so that when the strike came it might be solely his. Now, he felt differently. He wanted a partner. We would share fortune. I agreed. Then one night he came in and laid a specimen on the table. I paid no particular attention at first. Then I saw his face and picked up the specimen. There was no doubt about it What be. had tolled for and hoped for and bad never doubted had come at last The vein passed all our hopes, discounted our fondest dreams. The experts who came threw up their hands in wonder. The discovery marked a new era. It meant new towns, new people, a new empire. It yneant new feVfer in men’s blood for the yellow coquette of the fiflls. It meant love, joy, hate, envy, magnanimity, charity, philanthropy, murder. To Sam Spencer it meant the realization of a dream, the proof of his optimism. Beyond the mere affording of possibility to do certain things, I think the extravagance of his sudden wealth utterly escaped him. In his great-heartedness he Insisted that we share and share alike. I was on the point of refusing whan I looked into his eyes. I agreed. My fortune was made, but I lingered

In the West It was Spencer. I had grown to love the man, for the bigness of him, for the wonderful something that lifted him out of and aWay from the material. Superficially he was not attractive, a silent stern, wordless man of the hills. But I had lived in the same room with him two years. I had eaten his bread,’ hoped the same hope, dreamed, though not so perfectly, the same dream.

Spencer came into my room In the hotel one night, and I could see. that he had something to say. An odd kind of embarrassment had come upon him and he hedged and countered and hemmed and hawed and talked of commonplaces for a half-hour. At last he told me. It was part of the dream. It was, I think, the mother of the dream. •* Ten years before, in a small town in one of the middle Western states, Sam Spencer had loved a girl. They had seen each other occasionally, had walked together in the wonderfur spring of youth, had met at church, at parties. There {had been very little opportunity for talk, had not the youth been so sorely tongue-tied in the presence of the little great god. That part of it was common enough. That was why I wondered about the woman. Saia Spencer had come to the seeking of the golden fleece wherewith to line his nest. Ten years he had sought it with a shrine in his heart on which the fire had never died. Ten years he had labored and hoped and dreamed and worshiped the goddess of his sacrifice in secret. And now the fleece was found, the dream stood ready for fulfillment It made my blood cold to think of what the years might have done. I was with him when he posted the letter which told of his winning a fortune. It was like participating In some holy rite. It meant so much to Spencer, it was so much a part of him, the urge, I am now quite sure, of all his endeavors.

I remember the stun, the sudden, sickening sink that came over me when the telegram was thrust before my eyes, telling of the accident in the Oro pass. > Spencer had gone for a quick trip to Boise, expecting to return in two days. We had parted with joyful anticipations, having in common that great secret which draws all men into a common kinship. He would return, and together we would read the reply of the woman. Foolish, bearded children. Ten years may do many things besides wrest a fortune from the unwilling hills. Ten .years! Sam Spencer was dead. The Oro pass had taken 20 lives, of which his was one. It seemed to me that Destiny had indeed turned pessimist, who would lead a man to the door of realization after ten years’ toil, and bolt it even as he touched the lintel. It seemed unspeakably ironical, this last bit of fate’s sarcasm. I felt that upon me rested the duty of putting the last touch to the picture now turned tragic, into the secrets Of whose building I had been initiated. I a reply from the girl. The days oßiwded on. I took charge of Spencer’s estate, following the simple instructions of his will.

The weeks went by. I began to wonder If the girl— i * Then came the first word I had had from Alice Dale. She wrote me of the small doings of her intimate life, the little impersonal personalities a woman writes. Then came this: Tell me how these Western men feel. I received a letter the other day from one who has been away ten years, hunting his fortune in gold-fields. He had just succeeded and wrote to me here. I had forgotten him, and by racking my memory could remember nothing excepting that he had red cheeks and brown eyes. The letter was written with a lead pencil, three sheets, the greater part of which was devoted to telling of his success. Then In the coolest manner In the world he offered to share it with me. Not one sentimental word, mind you, unless the superscription could be termed that. I really was angry at first. Then I read the letter a great many times, trying to decide whether I should answer it or not. : I forgot to say that In a postscript he placed the characteristic dollar-mark of the West upon the letter by saying that If I would come, answer at once and he would send me ticket and expense money. Then this: Now tell me, what feeling prompted the letter. Not love, because, as I remember, the affair was very ordinary, nothing beyond walking home of afternoons. I am not asking your advice, understand. lam merely asking out of curiosity. They surely must look at life from a different view-point than people do who live near civilization. t I wanted to laugh, wildly, grimly, bitterly. How little do men know! How wise is Destiny after all!

Venomous Cinder Beetle.

The cinder beetle, hitherto considered as a tranquil little parasite that devoted itself exclusively, to rails, spikes and other railroad property, has developed some new and alarming symptoms, according to a letter to the Coolidge Enterprise from Judge Adna P. Gristlebone. The cinder beetle has lately beebme vicious, and worse than that —its bite has been followed by a poisonous infection. Last Wednesday, so the judge writes, a fast train tore through Coolidge, without stepping. Suddenly it came to a halt half a mile down the track, and the engineer was seen to climb down, examine the cylinders and the piston rod, and then throw up his hands in despair. A cinder beetle had ’jumped from the track to the cow catcher, and with one bite of its venomous fangs had killed the engine. After a delay of a few hours, a relief engine wearing a flynet arrived and pulled the train on its way. —Kansas City Star.

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN, RENSSELAER, IND.

THREE OF MOST SENSATIONAL “COMEBACKS"

Claude Derrick, New Shortstop of Chicago Cube.

“Birdie” Cree, Claude Derrick and Jay Kirke are three of the most sensational “comebacks” of the season. When this trio was cast adrift by* major league clubs little or no attention was given to thqlr fate. They had dropped out of the fast set and were headed for the minors. But now it’s a different story. All three accomplished wonders with the teams to "which they were sent, and now they are back in the big yard again.

The New York Americans sold Cree to the Baltimore Orioles for $2,500 and gladly paid $5,060 to get him back. While with Baltimore Cree led the International league batsmen with an average of. .353. Claude Derrick also was shipped to Baltimore by the Athletics, who figured that he was through in the big show. Derrick did great work in the field for the Orioles and hit for .330.

Jay Kirke, the third member of the “comeback” triplets, is a former Boston Brave. He was shunted to In-

O’NEILL IS CLEVER CATCHER

Voung Backstop of Cleveland Team Is Tall and Rangy, With Fine Build for His Position.

Stephen T. O’Neill, the sterling young catcher of the Cleveland American league club, was born at Minooka, Pa., on July 6, 1892, and is tall and rangy, with a fine build for a catcher. He played independently with the

Catcher O’Neill of Naps.

Minooka Blues until 1910, when he went to the Elmira, New York State league club, now managed by his brother, Mike, the once-noted major league pitcher. He caught 28 games and was released to enable Elmira to keep him from the draft, but Connie Mack’s keen eye caught him and he was drafted by the Athletic club. He went south With that team in 1911, but on the return was sent to Worcester of the New England league, from which club Cleveland bought him in the .fall of 1911.

Almeida Is Missed.

Several of the Cincinnati players wish that the club had kept Rafael Almeida. The quiet, amiable Portu-guese-Cuban was a soothing, not a disturbing Influence, and how he could slay that ball when called on in a pinch! He could play the outfield, too, and the boys think that in two Weeks’ time, played regularly, he could fully replace Marsans. It was one of the great errors of 1913 when Almeida was sent away, and he’d be extremely useful now.

Long Contract for Pfeffer.

President Charles H. Ebbets of Brooklyn has succeeded in signing Pitcher Ed J. Pfeffer to a contract covering the seasons of 1915 and 1916. The instrument is one which will withstand the most tests of law and puts this sterling young man beyond the reach of the Federal league for some time /to come. Pfeffer was one of a very few of Ebbets* stars not protected by ironclad contracts.

dianapolis and then on to Cleveland, in the American association. With Cleveland, Kirke hit for .351 and was the real batting leader of the association. Now he is with the Cleveland Naps. , Claude Derrick, the new Cub shortfielder purchased from Cincinnati has fit in the cavity in great style and is said to be the making of the Cub team. He has chased away the shortstop bugaboo. Since joining the team Claude has shown plenty of class as a batter and fielder. The Cubs are the fourth major league team he has played for. He started out with the Athletics in 1912, but wasn’t kept long. He bobbed up at the enA of that season with Mack's-men and again disappeared in the ambush. His next chance came with Frank Chance’s Highlanders last year. He was let loose again, to be grabbed up by the Reds. He wore a Cincinnati uniform for a couple of days before signing with the Cubs.

Among the Baseball Players

Outfielder Duffy Lewis has sighed with the Boston Red Sox for two years. • • • The once great Amos Rusie has a hot job this year. He is working in a Seattle gas plant. * • • Pitcher Faber is the best lifesaveP the White Sox have had since th© palmy dayb of “Big Ed” Walsh. '» » » Rumor has it that Manager of the Athletic club is trying to tie up his players to three-year contracts. • * • Leach is playing as good a game aS he did last year and has been the main spoke in the machine all this summer. * • • Harry Bailey, the Columbus outfielder, who broke a leg while sliding, id still in a St. Paul hospital, and will play no more this season. • • • Mike Mitchell may help the Washing* ton Senators for a time, but the vet* eran is falling so fast that he will not be long in fast company now. • • • Branch Rickey of the Browns is not a bench manager, for he is able to get out on the field in practice and show his men what ha wants them to do. • • • The value of Wilbert Robinson to , the Giants is plainly shown by the way McGraw’s pitchers have been going since Robby left to assume his own burdens in Brooklyn. i• • • Outfielders Emmett Ruh and Jim Conley, the Columbus amateurs who weiyo given a few days* trial by the Columbus club, have been sent back to their respective clubs by Manager Hinchman. • • « Before the present season Howard! Shanks was rated as a weakling With the stick, but this year the Washington outfielder has flagged that sort of a fating by walloping the ball all over the lot. • • • - Umpire Al Orth, who tore a ligament in his leg by a fall in Philadelphia, on June 24, when he slipped on the concrete at the front of the players’ dugout, will be unable to work for several more weeks. * * * Gus Getz, second sacker of the Newark Indians, will probably be the next member of the Redskins to be snapped up by the Brooklyn Superbas, Getz is hitting arofittd .280 and his bingles come at opportune times. /• • • O’Mara of the Brooklyns Is an exceedingly talkative youth on the field, but most of the shortstops are strong on verbal pepper. There may be something in the climate about short field that makes the tongue wag, or else that position has the best strategic ad* vantages for disbursing chin music.

DAY RUNS TURNSTILES

FOUNDER OF NEW YORK GIANTS NOW HUMBLE EMPLOYE.

Fortune Made When Team Won Two World’s Championships From St Louis Browns and Brooklyn* Lost in Fighting Revolt

Once the richest and most powerful magnate in the National league, John B. Day, founder of the New York baseball club, which has controlled the Giants since 1885, now draws a small salary for, supervising the turnstiles at the polo grounds. Mr. Day’s fortune, made in 1888 and 1889, when the Giants won two world’s championships from the St. Louis Browns and the Brooklyns, respectively, was swept away in vainly fighting the Brotherhood revolt of 1890. He sacrificed all to remain loyal to the National league, which without his allegiance would have been crushed in midseason. In fact, Mr. Day refused a half- interest in the New York Brotherhood club, together with a $25,000 salary to serve as president. The story of Mr. Day’s ruin is an old one, but his wonderful faith in the ball players who threw him down never has been told. * At the suggestion of James Mutrie Mr. Day organized the old Metropolitans, who won the American association championship in 1884. He leased the polo grounds; then Ideated at Fifth avenue and One Hundred and Tenth street. As the National league was the parent body, Day and Mutrie soon applied for a franchise to operate a New York club. The team was nicknamed the Giants in 1887, because the players included big men —Buck Ewing, Roger Connor, Tim Keefe, Jim O’Rourke, Mike Slattery and others.

During that season the New York club made SIOO,OOO, while in 1888 Mr. Day’s profits were said to have been double that amount John M. Ward, George Gore, Mike Tiernan, Mickey Welsh, Ed Crane, Danny Richardson, Bill Brown, Arthur Whitney, Gil Haffield, Pat Murphy and Titcomb were added to the club’s roster from time to time, so that when the pennant was captured in 1889 Mr. Day was literally rolling in wealth. He allowed the players to pocket the New York club’s entire share of the receipts. It was during the following winter that the Giants, with the exception of Tiernan, Welsh and Murphy, agreed to desert Mr. Day. They had joined the Brotherhood, which had formed a secret agreement with various financial backers to organize a rival circuit called the Players’ league. When Mutrie Informed Mr. Day, there, that all but three of the Giants had decided to jump, the New York magnate replied: "I do not believe a word of it! I have treated my boys liberally and fairly. You cannot make me believe that they are not real men.”

It proved to be true, however, and Mr. Day lost his fortune. •

PLAYERS IN ODD PARALLEL

Josh Devore and Beals Becker Wander Around Circuit, Playing in Exactly 'Same Cities.

Josh Devore is now with the Boston Nationals —a club that is being suddenly ripped to pieces and reconstructed by G. Stallings. By landing in Boston, Josh completes a strange series of wanderings, which exactly parallel those of Beals Becker —a set of coincidences, possibly never before equaled. During the last three sear sons Becker, starting at Boston, went to New York, thence to Cincinnati, and

finally to Philadelphia, where he is now located. Devore, starting at New York, went to Cincinnati, thence to Philadelphia, and finally to Boston, so that these two outfielders, in their travels, have performed in exactly the same set of cities, and no others!

Infielder Artie Butler was only a sort of a throw-in in the St. Louis-Pitts-burgh trade —“to boot” as it were, but he has been a life-saver to the Cardinals, filling' the gap at shortstop almost as well as Hauser could have done it. He never had much opportunity at Pittsburgh and the fact that Fred Clarke let him get away without testing him more thoroughly is a dem-, onstration of the “Mistakes of Managers.”

Josh Devore.

Life-Saver for Cardinals.

COOKED CHEESE BEST

DAINTY TITBITS THAT ARE NOT INDIGESTIBLE.

Toasted and Served on Saltine Cracker* With a Dash of Worcestershire Is an English Favorite—--1 Variations of the Rabbit.

Cheese is credited with containing as much nutriment in one pound as is contained in two pounds of beef. It bothers the digestion of some, but the melting or cooking of it does away with this trouble, and there are many who believe that the merits of cheese are all on the side of ease of digestion and that is one reason why it has always remained the last dish of the dinner.

In the old days when heavy feeding and many bottles of port were dinner fashions, the dish of cheese was ©f immefifee importance. It was not a morsel then as it is now to give zest to the meal. Huge cheeses were brought whole to the banquet board and were carved and served with a great flourish. Big Stilton cheeses-were scooped out and filled with champagne for special occasions, and many mixtures were made of the softer creams with butter and wine, forming a paste to spread on cracker*. Toasted cheese is a great English delicacy, but for eome reason it is not much in favor in this country except in the “rabbit” The old London tavern on Fleet street, the Cheshire cheese, got its name from the excellence of its toasted cheese. A handy way to cook cheese in I the manner called toasted is to chop or grate a quantity of it—-the mild American cream is best —and then spread it neatly on saltine crackers. Place them side by side ona flat pan and put them in under th'e broiler long enough to melt the cheese. With a drop of Worcestershire these are very dainty and appetizing. The ordinary rabbit made with melted cheese blended with ale or beer and poured over buttered toast satisfies most people, but there are variations. One way is to boll large onions, chop them and mix them with butter, cream, salt, mustard and a small cup of grated cheese. This can be poured over toast or crackers. •

Broiled sardines also mix nicely in a rabbit They are placed on the toast, skinned and boned, and the cheese is poured over them. A Mexican Way is to use tomatoes. Break up half a cupful of American cream cheese and rub it to a paste with butter, mixed mustard, a little cream and tabasco sauce, Stir this as it melts and have this sauce ready as it melts. Three peeled tomatoes, an onion and a chopped pepper cooked together.

Treating a Smoked Wall.

If the celling of your wall is smoked, or even, as in the case of kitchens, the entire surface is befogged from the accumulation of cooking fumes, it will be well to go over the surface with lime water first before applying a coat of paint. Walls done this way will be renewed with one coat of paint, when two would be needed to eradicate the damage from smoke and grease. The lime water may be applied hastily with a whitewash brush, and a five-qent piece of lime wilf make enough to cover the surface of any good-sized room, while the cost and labor of applying an extra coat of paint would be considerable.

Pineapple Cocktail.

A* economical cocktail is made of pineapple hulls. Cut the pineapple in slices and place the outside and all portions of o the pineapple that are not good enough for the table in a porcelain kettle. Boil 20 minutes. Strain and cooL Add to this the juice of a lemon and some of pie juice from the fresh pineapple. Pour this over some fresh pineapple in glasses. Do not make it too sweet Serve with either a strawberry or a maraschino cherry floating on top.

Haddock With Tomato Sauce.

One pound of haddock, one tablespoonful of salt, one tablespoonful of butter, one-half saltspoonful of pepper, one tablespoonful of flour, one slice of onion, and one cupful of cooked and strained tomato, melt the butter, «!d the flour and seasonings and the toftiato. Add the haddock and cook* slowly one hour. Serve with th* sauce around it

French Cabbage.

Select a white head, and after boiling, chop fine, and after it has drained quite dry,-stir in melted butter, pepper and salt to taste, and four tablespoonfuls of cream. Heat through and add two well-beaten eggs and'turn the whole into, a buttered frying pan, stir until very hot and let it brown underneath. Put a hot dish over the pan and reverse so that the brown underside will be on top when served In th* dish.

Use Meat Scraps.

What to do with small scraps of! beef and fowl is a common household questlqp. The fragments may be collected and made into timbales, hash or shepherd's pie for hinch, with boiled rice or sweet potatoes as an accompaniment. • v , ■ >•! . ' . •

Chinese Salad.

Equal parts of cold macaroni cut into small bits, minced ham, lobster, and cold boiled carrots, chopped. Mix well and add some good mayonnaise dressing, with a few capers.