Evening Republican, Volume 19, Number 157, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 5 July 1915 — Page 3

Dark Hollow

By Anna Katharine Green

Bkisferfions &CD 13iodes COPYRICrHT. 1914- & DOPD./AEAP COMRAMS7

CHAPTER XVlll—Continued. It had an overwhelming effect upon me. I had been very near death. Sul* cide must have ended the struggle In which 1 was engaged, had not 'this knowledge of actual and unpunished crime come to ease my conscience. John Scoville was worthy of death; and. being so. should receive the full reward of bls deed. I need hesitate no longer. That night I slept. But there came a night when I did not After’ the penalty had been paid and to most men’s eyes that episode was over. I turned the first page of that volume of slow retribution which Is the doom of the man who sins from impulse, and has the recoil of his own nature' to face relentlessly to the end of his days. Scoville was in his grave. I was alive. Scoville had ehot a man for his money. I had struck a man down In my wrath. Scoville’s widow and little child must face a cold and unsympathetic world, with small means and disgrace rising, like a wall, between them and social sympathy, if not between them and the actual means of living. Oliver’s future faced him untouched. No shadow lay across his path to hinder his happiness or to mar his chances. The results were unequal. 1 began to see them so, and feel the gnawing of that deathless worm whose ravages lay waste the breast, while hand and brain fulfill their routine of work, as though all were well and the foundations of* life unshaken. I suffered as only cowards suffer. 1 held on to honor; I held on to home; I held on to Oliver, but with misery for my companion and a self-contempt which nothing could abate. Each time I mounted the bench I felt a tug at my arm as of a visible, restraining presence. Each time I returned to my home and met the clear eye of Oliver beaming upon me with Its ever-grow-ing promise of future comradeship, I experienced a rebellion against my own happiness which opened my eyes to my own nature and Its Inevitable demand. I must give up Oliver, or yield my honors, make a full confession and accept whatever consequences It might bring. I am a proud man, and the latter alternative was beyond me. I could forego pleasure, travel, social Intercourse, and even the companionship of the one being in whom all my hopes centered, but 1 could not, of my own volition, pass from the judge’s bench to the felon’s cell. There I struck the Immovable — the Impassable. I decided In one awful night of renunciation that I would send Oliver out of my life. The next day I told him abruptly . . . hurting him to spare myself . that I had decided after long and mar ture thought to yield to his desire for journalism, and that I would start him In his career and maintain him In It • for three years if he would subscribe to the, following conditions: They were the hardest a loving father ever imposed upon a dutiful and loving son. First, he was to leave home Immediately . . . within a few hours. In fact. Second, be was to regard all relations between us as finished; we were to be strangers henceforth In every particular save that of the money obligation already mentioned. Third, he was never to acknowledge this compact, or to cast any slur upon the father whose reasons for this apparently unnatural conduct were quite disconnected with any fault of his or any desire to punish or reprove. Fourth, he was to pray for his father every night of his life before he slept Was this last a confession? Had I meant it to be such? If so, it missed Its point It awed but did not frighten him. I had to contend with his compunctions, as well as with grief and dismay. It was an hour of struggle on his part and of implacable resolution »n mine. Nothing but such hardness ■ on my part would have served me. Had I faltered once he would have won me over, and the tale of my sleepless nights been repeated. I did not falter, and when the midnight stroke 'rang through the house that night it separated by its peal a sin-beclouded but human past from a future arid with solitude and bereft of the one possession to retain which my sin had been hidden. I became a father without a son—as lonely and as desolate as though the separation between us were that of the grave I had merited and so weakly shunned. But I was not yet satisfied. How could I Insure for myself the extreme punishment which my peace demanded, without, bringing down upon me the full consequences I refused to accept ' You have seen how I ultimately answered this question. A convict’s "bed! a convict’s isolation! But after some weeks of this, fresh fears arose. An accident was possible. For all Bela’s precautions, someone might gain access to this room. This

would mean the discovery of my secret And this fence was built This should have been enough. But guilt has terrors unknown to inn<A cence. One day I caught a small boy peering through an Infinitesimal crack in the fence, and. remembering the window grilled with iron with which Bela had replaced the cheerful Casement In my den of punishment, 1 realized how easily an opening might be made between the boards for the convenience of a curious eye anxious to penetrate the mystery of my seclusion. And so it came about that the inner fence was put up. This settled nay position in the town. No more visits. All social life was over. It was meet I was satisfied at last. I could now give my whole mind to my one remaining duty. I lived only while on the bench. , March 5, 1898. There is a dream which, comes to me often —a vision which I often see. It is that of two broken and irregular walls standing apart against a background of roseate sky. Between these walls the figures of a woman and child, turning about to go. The bridge I never see, nor the face of the man who died for my sin; but this I see always—the gaunt ruins of Spencer's Folly and the figure of a woman leading away a little child. That woman lives. I know now who she is. Her testimony was uttered before me tn court and was not one to rouse my apprehensions. My crime was unwitnessed by her. and for years she has been a stranger to this town. But I have a superstitious horror of seeing her again, while believing that the day will co.me when I shall do so. When this occurs —when I look up and find her in my path, I shall know that my sin has found me out and that the end is near.

1909 O shade of Algernon Etheridge, unforgettlng and unforgiving! The woman has appeared! She stood in this room today. Verily, years are nothing with God. Added later. I thought I knew what awaited me if my hour ever came. But who can understand the ways of Providence or where the finger of retributive justice will point It is Oliver’s name and not mine which has become the sport of calumny. Oliver’s! Could the irony of life go further! Oliver’s! There is nothing against him, and such folly must soon die out; but to see doubt In Mrs. Scoville’s eyes is horrible in itself .and to eliminate it I may have to show her Oliver’s account of that long-forgottefi night of crime in Spencer's Folly. It is naively written and reveals a clean, if reticent nature; but that its effect may be unquestionable I will insert a few lines to cover any possible misinterpretation of his manner and conduct. There is an open space, and our handwritings were always strangely alike. Only our e’s differed, and I will be careful with the e’s. Her confidence must be restored at all hazards. My last foolish attempt has undone me. Nothing remains now but that sacrifice of self which should have been made twelve years ago. CHAPTER XIX.

Sunset. “I do not wish to seem selfish, Oliver, but sit a little nearer the window, where I can see you whenever I open my eyes. Twelve years is a long time to make up, and I have such a little while in which to do it." Oliver moved. The moisture sprang to his eyes as he did so. He had caught a glimpse of the face on the pillow and the changes made in a week were very apparent Alfrays erect, his father had towered above them then even in his self-abasement but he looked now as though twenty years, instead of a few days„had passed over his stately head and bowed his incomparable figure. And not that alone. His expression was different Had Oliver not seen him in his old likeness for that one terrible half-hour, he would not know these features, so sunken, yet so eloquent with the peace of one for whom all struggle is over, and the haven of his long rest near. Had he been able at this moment tolook beyond the fences which his fear had reared, he would have seen at either gate a silent figure guarding the walk, and recalled, perhaps, the horror of other days when at the contemplation of such a prospect, his spirit recoiled upon itself in unimaginable horror and revolt And yet who knows! Life’s passions fade when the heart is at peace. And Archibald Ostrander’s heart was at peace. Why, his next words will show. "Oliver” —his voice was low but very distinct “never have a secret; never hide within your bosom a thought you fear the world to know. If you’ve done wrong—if you have disobeyed the law either of God or man — seek not to hide what can never be hidden so long as God reigns or men make laws. I have suffered, as few men have suffered and kept their rear son intact Now that my wickedness

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN, RENSSELAER, IND.

is known, the whole page of my life defaced, content has come again. 1 am no longer a deceiver, my very worst is known.” ’’Oliver?" —This some minutes later. "Are we alone?” "Quite alone, father. Mrs. Scoville is busy and Reuther —Reuther Is in the room above. I can hear her light step overhead.*’ The judge was silent He was gazing wistfully at the wall where hung the portrait of his young wife. He was no longer in his room, but in the cheery front parlor. This Deborah had insisted upon. There was. therefore, nothing to distract him from the contemplation I have mentioned. “There are things I want to say to you. Not many; you already know my story. But I do not know yours, and I cannot die till 1 do. What took you into the ravine that evening, Oliver, and why. having picked up the stick, did you fling it from you and fly back to the highway? For the reason 1 ascribed to Scoville? Tell me. that no cloud may remain between us. Let me know your heart as well as you now know mine.”

The reply brought the blood back into his fading cheek. ' “Father, I have already explained all this to Mr. Andrews, and now I will explain it to you. I never liked Mr. Etheridge as well as you did. and I brooded incessantly in those days over the influence which he seemed to exert over you in regard to my future career. But I never dreamed of doing him a harm, and never supposed that I could so much as attempt any argument with him on my own behalf till that very night of infernal complications and coincidences. The cause of this change was as follows: I had gone up-stairs. you remember, leaving you alone with him as I knew you desired. How I came to be in the room above I don’t remember, but I was there and leaning out of the window directly over the porch when you and Mr. Etheridge came out and stood in some final debate on the steps below. He was talking and you were listening. and never shall I forget the effect his words and tones had upon me. I had supposed him devoted to you, and here he was addressing you tartly and in an ungracious manner which bespoke a man very different from the one I had been taught to look upon as superior. The awe of years yielded before this display, and finding him just human like the rest of us, the courage which I had always lacked in approaching him took Instant possession of me, and I determined with a boy’s unreasoning impulse to subject him to a personal appeal not to add his Influence to the distaste you at present felt for the career upon which I had set my heart. Nothing could have been more foolish and nothing more natural, perhaps, than the act which followed. I ran down into the ravine with the wild intention, so strangely duplicated in yourself a few minutes later, of meeting and pleading my cause with him at the bridge, but unlike you, I took the middle of the ravine for my road and not the secluded path at the side. It was this which determined our fate, father, for here I saw the stick and, catching it up without further thought than of the facility it offered for whittling, started with it down the ravine. Scoville was not in sight The moment was the one when he had quit looking for Reuther and wandered away up the ravine. I have thought since that perhaps the glimpse he had got of his little one peering from the scene of his crime may have stirred even his guilty conscience and sent him off on his purposeless ramble; but, however this was, I did not see him or anybody else as I took my way leisurely down towards the bridge, whittling at the stick and thinking of what I should say to Mr. Etheridge when I met him. And now for fate’s final and most fatal touch! Nothing which came into my mind struck me quite favorably. The encounter which seemed such a very simple matter when I first contemplated it. began to assume quite a different aspect as the moment for it approached. By the time I had come abreast of the hollow, I was tired of the whole business, and hearing his whistle and knowing by it that he was very near, I plunged up the slope to avoid him, and hurried straight away into town. That is my story, father. If I heard your steps approaching as I plunged across the path Into which I had thrown, the stick in my anger at having broken the point of my knifeblade upon It, I thought nothing of them then. Afterwards I believed them to be Scoville’s, which may account to you for my silence about this whole matter both before and during the trial. I was afraid of the witness stand and of what might be elicited from me if I once got into the hands of the lawyers. My abominable reticence In regard to his former crime would be brought up against me. and I was too young, too shy and uninformed to face such an ordeal of my own volition. Unhappily, 1 was not forced into it, and— But we will not talk of that, father." , “Son,” —a long silence had intervened—“there is one thing more. When —how —did you first learh my real reason for sending you from .home? I saw that my position was understood by you when our eyes first met in this room. But twelve years had passed since you left this house in ignorance of all but my unnatural attitude towards you. When, Oliver, when?” 'That I cannot answer, father; It was just a conviction which dawned gradually upon me. Now, it seems as if I had known it always; but that isn’t so. A boy doesn’t reason; and it took reasoning for me to—to accept—” - • “Yes, 1 understand. And that was your secret! Oh, Oliver, I shall never ask for your forgiveness. I am not

worthy of it. I only ask that you will not let pride or any other evil pas slon stand in the way of the happiness I see in the future for you. 1 cannot take from you the shame of mj crime and long deception, but spare me this final sorrow! There is nothing to part you from Reuther now Alike unhappy in your parentage, you can start on equal terms, and love will do the rest Say that you will marry her, Oliver, and let me see her smile before I die.” . “Marry her? Oh. father, will such an angel marry me?” "No, but such a woman might.** Oliver came near, and stooped over bis father’s bed. "Father, if love and attention to my profession can make a success of the life you prize, they shall have their opportunity." The father smiled. If it fell to others. to -remember him as he appeared in his mysterious prime, to Oliver It was given to recall him as he looked then with the light on his face and the

“This Is My Story, Father."

last tear he was ever to shed glittering in his fading eye. “God is good.*’ came from the bed; then the solemnity of death settled over the room. The soft footfalls overhead ceased. The long hush had brought the two women to the door where they stood sobbing. Oliver was on his knees beside the bed, his head burled in his arms. On the face so near him there rested a ray from the westering sun; but the glitter was gone from the eye and the- unrest from the heart. No more weary vigils in a room dedicated to remose and self-punishment. No more weary circling of the house in the dark lane whose fences barred out the hurrying figure within from every eye but that of heaven. Peace for him; and for Reuther and Oliver, hope! (THE fIJND.)

Gems That Brought Misery.

The history of diamonds and the many other preciom stones, ruby, turquoise, emerald, opal, topaz", sapphire, chrysolite, sardonyx, amethyst, nearly all of which are mentioned in the Scriptures, goes far back of historic times, and is lost in a maze of religion, superstition and legend. It has been intermingled with intrigue, politics and diplomacy; murders galore: scandals unnumbered; imprisonments and beheadings. The story of the “Diamond Necklace," which, possible innocently on her part, smirched the fame of Marie Antoinette was one of the factors in agitation that led to the great French revolution. The Bastile opened to several of the actors in the scandal, one of them Cardinal de Rohan, who was arrested in his robes in die midst of his court. Cagliostro, the famous magician swindler, was another of the Bastlie prisoners, and Countess Lamotte-Valois of royal lineage, who was the chief conspirator, for. pecuniary gain, escaped from the prison to London, where she died in penury.

Live as In Olden Times.

In eastern Palestine and Arabia are to be found the most picturesque race In the East, those strange, nomadic tribes, the Bedouins. Their mode of life has not greatly changed since Biblical times, and today they steal cattle and camels, and their young men steal wives, as was their wont in Old Testament days. Indeed, the purloining of cattle and camels is considered lawful anymg them, and the more a tribe or an individual can enrich himself in this manner the more their prowess comes to be recognized. These people, however, who live by thieving and move by stealth, are invar ribly hospitality Itself to the stranger within their gates.

He Knew.

A teacher in a children’s Institution was giving the geography class a lesson on the cattle ranches She spoke of their beef all coming from the West, and. wishing to test the children’s observation, she asked: -And what else comes to us from these rapchee?” •-This was a poser. She looked at her shoes, but no one took the hint She tried again: "What do we get from the cattle besides beef?” One boy eagerly raised his hand. "I know what It is, it’s trjpe," bo announced triumphantly.

WEIGHING AND RECORDING COW’S MILK

Holsteins and Guernseys on a Wisconsin Dairy Farm.

(By R. W. LATTA, New Mexico Experi- ■*' ment Station.) ■-■■a Efficiency is the demand of the times and records of production are the first step in a study of efficiency. It pays to know what any producing factor in an industry is doing. Weighing and recording a cow’s milk requires only a few seconds, and will give new interest to the work. Butterfat testa should be made at regular intervals, as oqce a month. In taking a sample of a cow’s milk for a butterfat test, the following factors should be borne in mind, as causing variation in the test: Night’s and morning’s milk commonly vary in v richness. The first milk drawn, the middle milk, and the strippings all test different. The milk tests lower when the cow is fresh, and go higher as she falls off in milk. Abnormal weather, or other environmental, nervous, or health conditions. Unexplainable and irregular variations from day to day. Age of animal, the mature cow’s milk testing more than a heifer’s. Breed has a marked influence on

HONEY IS LOOKED UPON AS A LUXURY

Every Farm should Have Complement of From One to Half Dozen Hives of Bees. Honey is looked upon too often as a luxury. It is true that honey, especially comb honey, is a delicacy in that it takes the place of jam and jelly. In Europe, however, honey is a household article and is used to a considerable extent to replace sugar in cookery. The claim is made that it is a comparatively simple matter to substitute honey for sugar or molasses in many recipes and that the resulting flavor is often novel and pleasing. Icing made with honey Instead of sugar will keep soft and fresh for months, and cakes, especially those in which butter is not used, have been kept fresh for several months. The United States department of agriculture has made a rather extensive investigation concerning the use of honey, and has just published Farmers’ Bulletin 653, Honey and Its Uses in the Home, which may be secured for the asking. This bulletin not only contains much general information concerning honey, Its forms, method of making and keeping, but also contains many recipes in which it constitutes an important ingredient. Comb honey is practically certain to "be pure because the processes by which it is adulterated cost more than they will save. Formerly there was a very prevalent idea that extracted honey, that is, honey removed from tha comb, was often adulterated. However, recent legislation regarding adulterating food materials has been such that very little, if any, adulterated honey finds its way to market. It is not necessary, however, for farmers to depend on buying honey, because every farm should have its complement of from one to a halfdozen hives of bees.

POISON CUTWORMS IN GARDEN PATCH

Kansas Mixture Scattered Around Infested Areas Will . Prove Quite Effective. (By A. G. RUGGLES, Minnesota Experiment Statton.) The cutworm will get your garden track if you don’t watch out If you haven’t fall-plowed, you may successfully fight the pests by the use of pciA slightly different formula from the old-fashioned poisoned bran mash was found very effective against grasshoppers in Kansas in 1912. In 1914, this mixture was very successfully used against crickets, army worms and cutworms. The formula for the Kansas mixture is as follows: Bran, 1 pound; parts green, 1 ounce; sirup, % pint; orange or lemon, % ounce; water, pints. Mix the bran and parts green separately while dry. Squeeze the juice of the orange or lemon into the water, grating the peeling and pulp, and adding this also to the water. Dissolve 'the sirup in this mixture and wet the poisoned bran, stirring thoroughlyThis mash is scattered around the intested areas.

the test, but individuality causes greater variations. These influences remain fixed, however, and each cow has a normal individual fattest, and this cannot be changed by feeding or management. The following rules should be observed in sampling a cow’s milk for a butter-fat test: Select a period of normal feed, weather and general conditions. With all of the milking in one vessel, pour back and forth between pails, three or four times. Put a small portion in a clean, tightly-sealed bottle, with some preservative, as a corrosive sublimate tablet, to keep the sample from souring. Repeat this with four or six successive milkings, adding an amount to the sample in proportion to the amount of milk in each milking. After each addition to this composite sample, whirl the sample bottle around till all the cream which has stuck to the sides of the bottle is thoroughly mixed into the milk again.. Keep the sample in a cool, dry place. Two ounces of milk is ’ enough for a fattest in duplicate.

LITTLE ESSENTIALS FOR THE DAIRYMAN

Many Cows Being Deceived by Man—Cardinal Factors in Dairy Cleanliness. (By I* M. BENNINGTON.) Lucky is the man who leads in quality. Tha Important part of milking is to get it all. , 7 The man and the cow are the twins of the dairy business. There are as many cows being deceived by men as there are men being deceived by cows. There is some affinity between a good dairyman and a good cow. By co-operation with the dairy cows men can achieve wonderful results on the fahn. More fresh air and less “hot air” are needed in the dairy business. Every shiver of the cow shakes dollars out of her owner’s pockets. There is good money in raising good , cows to sell. Put every acre of land to work. Idle acres like dry cows, eat up the profits. Common sense, flavored with love for the cow, will insure success in the dairy business. Sunlight, fresh air and hot water are cardinal factors in cleanliness. Close cropping of pastures is very unprofitable. A good dairy cow must be intelligent, courageous and gentle. Great lung capacity is essential to high production. A box stall should be part of the furniture of every well-regulated cow stable. Every dollar, every effort, spent sh soil improvement will bring large and compounding interest The easiest way W prevent disease is to remove the cause. For the land's sake, and the improvement of the ration, grow plenty of clover and alfalfa. '

NEGLECT WILL SOON DEVASTATE ORCHARD

Thorough Cultivation Is Needed, but It Must Stop in Tune to Give Wood a Chance. When you are pushing the young orchard for growth it needs thorough cultivation, but it should stop in July In order to give the wood a chance to ripen before fall. Rub off the water sprouts tn the center of the tree and do not allow them to grow large enough to be pruned. < Look out for the curduUo on the plum and peach trees. Jar them off on sheets and be sure to burn every one. If you made the mistake of not pruning your grapevines last winter let them alone now, as bleeding would be sure to follow the knife at thin season. If you can arrange to spray just m the petals of the buds are well formed! you can save the bees, as a great many are killed by spraying just a* --- healthy, but that is no reason why Neglect will soon