Evening Republican, Volume 19, Number 82, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 7 April 1915 — Page 2

OLD MILLER'S DOG

By JOHN PRICE, JR.

"Jehoshaphat!” exclaimed Jim Patera, staring after the couple that walked down the street. "Did you see that, Polly?" Polly, his wife, looked out of the parlor window and threw up her hands in amuement For such a spectacle could not have been imagined in the village. The “couple" consisted of a man and a dog. The man, Henry Miller, was white-haired, shabbily dressed, and walked with a sort of pompous and yet mean self-assertion which indicated clearly, “Keep out of my way.” The dog, a fox-terrier mongrel, trotted beside the man, looking up at him with such an expression of faith and trustfulness as only dogs display. "Who ever heard of Henry Miller showing any affection to anyone?” asked Peters. "You’d think he’d show what little he had to that crippled- son of his, and his young wife and baby,” answered Polly. Old Henry Miller was the hardest character in the place. He had never been known to have a good word to say to anybody. He had turned his only son* out of his house years before, and the boy, who suffered from a congenital lameness, was now living in a mean quarter of the town, with his wife and child. His illness had necessitated his giving up his position. Miller knew all about it, but he collected his mortgage moneys just the same, and added to his pile at the bank, and snarled his way through life, hated and feared, and called "the meanest man in Pilkington.” But even the hardest man has a streak of humanity in him somewhere dr other. Three days before Miller had found the little modgrel, shivering and wet, on his doorstep. The cur looked up at him and whined. Miller had lifted his foot to kick it away when a sudden idea occurred to him. “I guess we’re both outcasts, old boy,” he said, stooping down and patting the dog’s head. "They haven’t

The Man and Dog Were lnseparable.

much use for you or me, have they? Let’s stand together, since we’re both without friends." And he took the dog inside and gave it a meal of bread and meat From that time onward the man and dog were inseparable. Miller's idea had been to make the -dog as much feared as he was himself, but all his endeavors to set it on the children, who played about his doorstep in spite of his angry threats, failed. And as the weeks went by it began to seem as though old Miller was growing more human. For instance, there was the day when the baseball, hurled by the boy across the street, went through his parlor window. Old Miller, dozing in his chair, wks awakened by the crash of glass, and the ball, bouncing across the floor, landed in his lap. The mongrel leaped up and barked. The furious old man saw what had happened at once. He snatched up a stick and rushed to his door. Upon the opposite side of the street the children, too terrified to run, were staring in fascination., into Miller’s house. - "I’ll teach you a lesson!” yelled Miller. “Sic ’em. Outcast!” The dog leaped at the nearest boy, ptilled at his coat, and stood wagging his tail and uttering short, sharp barks as he looked pleadingly from the boy to his master. Outcast knew what had been in Miller’s mind, but he wasn’t going to harm his friends. He had played with them too often for that Old Miller, who had advanced across the street, waving his stick, suddenly stopped dead. The dog continued to wag his tail and look up at hfm "You ought to be more careful,” muttered Miller. "However, boys will be boys. I’ve done the same thing myself in my day when I had friends to play with.” The miracle was duly reported ibout the town. From that day for

ward Miller was never annoyed by the children again. It began to be said that the dog, which he had adopted out of the bitterness of his heart, was making a man of him. Old acquaintances, who had dropped Miller years before, began to nod to him in the street. Somehow life began to seem easier to the old man. However, he still collected his money as harshly as ever, he still snarled as he went about his ways. It is hard to change one’s disposition at seventy. But the dog was always at his side, with the friendliest disposition imaginable, always with tail wagging, and Miller's devoted friend. Then came the day which was destined to have a permanent effect on the old man. He was going home with Outcast after an interview with one of his debtors. He had fully lived up to his, reputation and he was thinking bitterly that he would show the fellow no more mercy than he would have expected. Suddenly a runaway horse came tearing down the street, attached to a buggy, fortunately empty, which was swayt*a>* dizzily from side to side. ♦ Right in the path of the animal was a young woman, poorly dressed, wheeling a baby-carriage. She saw the horse and seemed paralyzed with fear. She did not know where to turn. The animal was almost on top of her. Suddenly Outcast leaped from the old man's side and sprang directly in the horse’s path, barking furiously. The horse swerved, Outcast caught at the reins, the horse dashed to one side and fell, dragging down the dog with it and overturning the buggy within a foot of the baby-carriage. An instant later the spectators had leaped to the fallen animal's side and were pulling It to its feet. Others seized the mother and the carriage and conducted them across the street under the shade of Miller’s trees. The woman was sobbing hysterically and clutching the child, which still slept, in her arms. Miller stood at the side of the horse.

Outcast was in a sorry plight. The horse had kicked him as it fell and inflicted serious Injuries. The dog could not rise; it got on its front feet’ and dragged Its hind quarters pitifully. It licked its master’s hand. Old Miller, forgetful of all but the dog, kneeled beside it, stroking the paralyzed back. It was clear that Outcast had not long to live. He picked him up in his arm's. There were tears In old Miller’s eyes, and his hide-bound nature seemed softened at last —broken. As he stood there the young woman came up to him timidly. "Your dog has saved my baby’s life," she said. “Is there anything I can do —anything at all ? , I don’t know how I can thank you. I have nobody in the world bat my child and crippled husband.” Old Miller stared at her. “What is your name, girl?” he demanded roughly. “Emily Miller, sir.” Old Miller took her hands in his. “I have nobody in the world either —unless my children come back to me,” he said. People said afterward that it was th» joy of the reunion that made old Miller a friend of all the boys and girls in Pilkington. But everybody gave the credit to Outcast, who might generally have been seen playing with little Henry on the old man’s doorstep. The superstition grew, also, that when the noted surgeon cured the old man's son of his lameness It passed into the dog, and that was why he limped a little. Because things get distorted with the lapse of time, long before he died “cranky” old Miller had passed into a legend. (Copyright, 1915, by W. G. Chapman.)

FARMING LANDS IN SIBERIA

That They Are Rich Is Proved by the - Crops That Are Gathered From Them.

We have inherited from the traditions of the past the idea that Siberia is a country with a not very fruitful soil. Yet in the last few years very decided advances in farming have been made there, as a result of the efforts of the Russian government to arouse the native peasants and settlers to a more intensive cultivation of the ground. In the western section of the country, so the German journal Prometheus tells us, large associations of farmers have been organized for the export of their products. In 1912 butter to the value of 7,000,000 rubles (a ruble is about 51 cents) was exported. In 1913 this amount had doubled, for in this year butter to the value of 14,500,000 rubles was sold to Germany, Austria-Hungary and England. In 1912 experiments were made in the manufacture of the English cheddar cheese. After several failures, the cheese, which is very popular in Great Britain, was so successfully imitated that in 1913 England imported 65 tons of Siberian cheddar. The trade Is carried on by ships directly from the interior of Siberia to London. —Scientific American.

Effective.

Ah irascible Irish colonel was leading a regiment on a long and difficult march. Fagged and worn out, they halted for a rest by the wayside. When it became necessary to move on, the colonel gave the‘order, but the weary men remained stretched upon the ground. He repeated the order peremptorily, and still there was no modon By thia time his temper was at a white heat, and he thundered out: “If you don’t get np and start at once, I’ll march the regiment off and leave .every d —d one of you behind." They started at once.

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN, RENSSELAER, IND.

AMERICAN STUDENTS SEND AMBULANCES TO THE WAR

Herewith are shown two of the new Red Cross am balances which were purchased with funds raised by the students at Yale and Harvard universities, and which are soon to be sent to Europe and used where they are most needed. Yale students raised funds to buy twelve of the machines and Harvard men five.

WHEN LINCOLN'S LIFE WENT OUT

Fifty Years Have Passed Since Tragic Event in Ford’s Theater. NIGHT OF FEAR AND ANXIETY

Incidents of That Fatal Fourteenth of April in Washington Are Recalled —Stanton Calm Amid Alt Confusion and Excitement

Washington.—Fifty years ago, on the night of April 14, 1865, In a house on K street, a cavalry captain lay beside his wife and child In his first peaceful sleep after four war-filled years. Suddenly the old-fashioned knocker on the front door chattered loudly. The servants at the end of the hall slept on but the alarm brought the trained soldier to his feet at once. An exchange of low-toned question and answer at the door and he came back into the bedroom. Fast Spreading News. As the captain turned up the light his wife saw his face, a pallid, set mask under the tan, his eyes wide with horror. She sat up in bed, afraid. “Joe, what is it?” The captain’s breath came hard and he labored over the words: “ —Lincoln —shot —” Five minutes later he was mounted and away to his command. On Pennsylvania avenue the hoofbeats of the horse ridden by the escaping murderer Booth had hardly died away behind the capitoL So fast spread the tragic news. In Ford’s Theater. In Ford’s theater on Tenth street the nightmare caused by the fatal shot was followed by confused action. The only two men who seemed to know what they were doing were the assassin Booth and Major Rathbone, whom Booth wounded in escaping. Men in the audience plunged wildly over the seats toward the stage crying, “Hang him.” In the presidential box it was not until several minutes later that the silent figure of Lincoln, still sitting calmly in the chair, was stretched upon the floor and examined by Dr. Charles Taft. He ordered it removed at once to the nearest bed. At the Peterson House. A shutter was brought. The president’s unconsciouis form was laid upon It, and through a trail of dripping

Abraham Lincoln.

blood the stricken party followed across the dress circle and down the stairs. In the street there was a helpless pause. , “Where shall we take him?" From the steps of a house opposite the theater a man called, "Bring him here into my room,” and through the crowd of civilians, soldiers and policemen the president was carried into the hall bedroom of William Clark, a soldier lodger. In the front room sat Mrs. Lincoln weeping and moaning, “Oh, why didn’t he kill me?” Horror and Dread In the City. Over the'city, after the first lightning shock of the story, there was surprisingly little violence. In the forts and camps the long roll sounded; an army /stood to arms, grim and silent

Mobs sprang from the ground and shouted for vengeance in unthinking fury, but always some voice quieted them with command and question, “Hush! What would Mr. Lincoln say if he could hear you?” Cavalry patrols trotted through the streets with what seemed a deadened clatter, their only command the raised arm of an officer. Men stood and whispered brokenly. Dread was upon the city. Rumor had ten thousand tongues and news met news more terrible. That Secretary Seward had been attacked and wounded was soon known. Secretary Stanton’s life had been attempted, It* was said. Grant was reported killed on his way North. “Conspiracy is among us. . . . What man is safe?” wrote the editor of a morning paper at two o’clock. Upon every man’s lips was the question, “In God’s name, what next?" A Wife’s Sore Agony* In Tenth street it was quiet The men who had shouted “Burn the theater,” had been silenced; the streets around the Peterson house had been cleared of the crowd and cavalry guarded every entrance to them. No one was allowed within the lines who had not urgent business there. A front and back parlor and Clark’s bedroom at the end of a long, narrow hall made up the first floor of the house. Mrs, Lincoln sat in the front room, supported in her grief by her son. Captain Robert Lincoln, who left her from time to time to go to’his father’s bedside. Several times the wife went to her husband, but was unable to stay for more than a few minutes without breaking down completely. Stanton’s the Master Mind. Secretary Stanton had not been wounded as reported. He was among the first to reach the house and sat in the back parlor at a table where he could see everyone who came near the president’s room. His was the directing and controlling mind through that long night. No man knew better than he the worth of the dying man but he was calm and energetic, and in the Intervals of giving orders and dictating dispatches wrote the best story of that night’s national calamity that remains today. > His family physician and several friends and ofllcials were with the president. Not a flicker of consciousness came to him after the bullet shot through his head from back to front. One moment he was here, rejoicing in full knowledge of his country’s new-found peace, in another he had passed beyond human knowledge to peace everlasting. But the long, gaunt body died hard. The stertorous breathing and painful moaning sounded through the house hour after hour over the low voices of Stanton and Dana, above the sobbing of the wife. Gradually the moaning ceased, the long, restless arms grew still. “Failing fast,” said the bulletin at six o’clock; "Symptoms of immediate dissolution,” read another at seven. “It Is Finished.” At twenty-two minutes past seven his son Robert, Secretaries Stanton, Wells and Usher, Private Secretary Hay and several others gathered around the bed saw the last breath flutter the parted lips. Abraham Lincoln was dead in the hour of his triumph and Stanton’s solemn voice broke the awed silence in the truest and most beautiful benediction ever pronounced upon a passing soul: “Now he belongs to the ages.” An Anguish-Stricken Nation. A man in rumpled frock coat appeared at the front door and looked around. On the steps a cavalry captain stiffened to salute, his eyes searching the other’s face. The man in the frock coat nodded silently. As he mounted and rode away the captain’s face wore the same pallid, set mask under the tan that had roused his wife to frightened questioning the night before. . Within the next half hour, ahead of the fast rising sun, sped a message that struck the nation to dumb anguish: , “President Lincoln died at 7:22.”

It Can’t Be Done.

New Hartford, Conn.—Fred and Frank Driggs, brothers, who married 30 years ago, have lived together ever since. Each has three children. The two families eat at the same table, keep their money In the same pocketbook and never quarrel.

First Day’s Work Fatal.

Newark, N. J.—John J. Cullen, an ironworker, who had hunted for work for seven months, was killed in his first day on ane w job. He fell from a bridge on which he was working.

RAIL CHIEF RUNS ENGINE

O. P. Byers, Principal Owner of A. and N., Which Has No Debt, Takes Sick Driver’s Place. Hutchinson, Kan. —Because of the illness of the regular engineer on the Anthony and Northern railway, O. P. Byers of Hutchinson, president of the new line, dopned overalls, climbed into the cab and took the regular train out of Pratt bn time recently. Byers returned to the engine cab after a quarter of a century’s absence. He was promoter of the original Hutchinson and Southern road, now owned and operated by the Sante Fe, and later was connected with the traffic department of the Rock Island railroad. The Anthony and Northern is virtually owned by Byers. It is unique in that it is a railroad built and operated without a cent. of bonded Indebtedness, and it is paying dividends.

MAN, 78, DOES EGG DANCE

Blindfolded and Bent With Age, He Does the Steps and Never Broke a Shell. St. Paul, Minn.—Albert Pankopf, seventy-eight years old, bent and white-haired, danced blindfolded among 18 eggs, laid in two rooms at intervals of a foot, for several minutes without breaking a shell. For more than fifty years Professor Pankopf has been performing this feat, but at the annual Schlachtfest of the Saxonia and General German Benevolent association he danced as never before. The years dropped from him as he danced. When the music stopped the old man fell into the arms of a spectator. “Weak heart,” he gasped. He soon recovered himself and bowed in response to the cheers.

SPIRIT OF CHIEF IN ORCHID

One of the most interesting exhibits at the International Flower show at Grand Central Palace, New York, was a moth orchid growing in a human skull. A rather curious story accompanies the exhibit. The skull is that of an old tribal chief of the Philippine islands, who was murdered forty years ago by Guanu, a Suriago chief, for stealing one of the latter’s wives. Guanu kept the skull as a trophy until his death, when it was placed upon Guana’s grave as a tombstone. An orchid took root and as the flower bloomed it was sealously guarded by the natives who thought the orchid was the spirit of their chief. In the year 1902, a traveler passing through the village saw the freak and stole it from the natives and sent it to a florist of Rutherford. N.J. Note how the' expansion of the roots has caused the frontal bone to crack. The roots extend flown through the skull and can be seen through the nasal cavity and beneath the jaw. The flower has, bloomed regularly .since brought to this country. .

WHEN A MAN MARRIES

IS He SUPPOSED TO ESPOUSE ENTIRE FAMILY?

Consensus of Cases Seems to Show That He Actually Marries His Wife and All Her Relatives— How It Works. “Does a man marry his wife’s family?” He claims he doesn’t But f prominent society woman declared not long ago that he does, no matter what he thinks about it, and more recently a prominent college professor made the same statement Looking around among one’s acquaintances, for evidence, it is a pretty general fact that the wife’s family Is more in evidence than the husband’s. One hears more of the wife’s kin, and the children seem to be better acquainted with relatives on the maternal side. When mother’s relatives come a-vis-iting they are made much of and given the ran of the house. If any of father’s relatives have the temerity to invite themselves for an extended visit there is a chill in the home atmosphere and nobody acts natural least of all father, who is made to feel that he is imposing upon the good nature of his overworked spouse. The wife’s relatives feel that it is not only their right but their bounden duty to butt in, no matter what the circumstances. And usually the buttin is accepted meekly and endured more or less amiably by the entire family. Any husband who is a gentleman will do his kicking away from home, or, if he cannot contain himself at the moment, go down'and poke the furnace and commune with the cat. And yet, on the whole, the wife’s relatives seldom do the amount of damage that a husband’s relatives can do, once they determine to make themselves felt. When a husband’s mother decides that his children are not being brought up right, or that his wife is extravagant or a poor housekeeper, etc., and that her Interference is necessary, real trouble starts, not only for the man’s wife but even more so for the man himself. His mother-in-law would never dare to attempt what his own mother will do to him. The wife may have a ne’er-do-well brother who occasionally comes and camps upon her hospitality. But if the husband has such a brother, nine times in ten the brother has married and expects his more prosperous relatives to support a wife and numerous progeny. As for fathers-in-law on both sides —they don’t count appreciably. By the time a man becomes a father-in-law he has been so well trained into his proper sphere that he wisely refuses to mix in any kind of family affairs that do not concern Ms finances. Anyway, there Is usually a chord of sympathetic understanding between a man and his father-in-law, while every wife knows the wiles that will bind her father-in-law to her for ever and aye —Philadelphia Bulletin.

How Doctor Abbott Prepares Sermon.

My method of preparation for any sermon or address is to consider, first, not my subject, but my object that is, what I want to accomplish. Next I consider what thoughts and what organization of those thoughts will be best fitted to accomplish that object. And, third, in arranging those thoughts I endeavor to make of them not a chain but a river, to make my argument cumulative, not merely logical, so that the last thoughts will be not merely the conclusion but the climax of the thoughts that have gone before. This I generally do without the use of pen or pencil. Usually, however, I jot down in a notebook or on a sheet of paper the major points in the address after I have arranged them in my mind,-though I never have this paper before me in speaking. It is much more important to keep my mind in touch with my auditors than in touch with my theme. — Lyman Abbott in the Outlook.

Domesticated Geography.

You can wander around Metz (Indiana), and Gibraltar (Pennsylvania), and Belgrade (Missouri), and Dunkirk (Maryland) without being shot as a spy. If more scholarly associations beckon, what sa? you to London (Texas), Stratford (Cbnnecticut), Oxford (Idaho), Heiflelberg (Mississippi) and Cambridge (Maine)? If you love art and architecture, hie away to Milan (Tennessee), Florence (Utah), Vienna (South Dakota), or Versailles (Kentucky). And if you seek the antique flavor of Athens, or Pompeii, or Venice, or any other venerable ruin — But what’s the use? We have it all in America; just run over the map and take your choice. Geography is the finest of indoor sports this year, anyhow.

Barrels of Booty.

Sol. Sodbuster—Hear about the robbery down V th’ 5 an’ 10-eent store last night? Hiram Hayrack—Nope. Dthey git much? Sot Sudbuster— Yep. They was in there two hours and carried away nearly a dollar’s wuth o’ goods.— Puck.

Rattier Indefinite.

Guest (In restaurant) —Waiter, you don’t mean to say this is spring lamb? Walter—Yassah; dat’s what it yn Bah. ' ' -t." Guest—Um! Spring es what yeari ■ .