Jasper County Democrat, Volume 4, Number 35, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 7 December 1901 — Page 5

CONDENSED STORIES.

How Kipling's Great Memory Serves Him In Story Writing. “Thirty years ago,” says an An-glo-Indian civil engineer to a London correspondent, “I traveled out to India on the same steamer as a Mrs. Lockwood Kipling. She had with her a baby girl and a boy of three. 'Ruddy,’ as she called him, •was a solemn, yellow faced little chap, with a big hat and frilly round the ends of his tiny trousers. We soon struck up a friendship. He would walk up and down the deck fyvith me for hours, holding on to fay thumb. In after years, as you know, Kipling obtained the subeditorship of an Indian paper. I was engaged about that time in building a great railway bridge. The editor of Kipling’s paper wrote to me asking permission for one of his reporters to come and write a series of three or four articles on the subject of the bridge, which was one of the biggest undertakings of its time. I replied, saying that if ‘Ruddy’ eared to come he should have every privilege, but I didn’t want anybody else. “Sure enough ‘Ruddy’ came, and a great time he had. We showed him everything, and he took everything in. His eye for detail was wonderful. He was like a human camera, with a memory for names as well. Years afterward he wrote ‘The Bridge Builders,’ and in it he used the information he picked up from me and my men then. It is all as accurate as possible. There’s not a technical error in the whole thing. As far as I can see every one of his engineering stories is absolutely correct.” Helping Out Mr. Gladstone. The announcement from Canada that the Duke and Duchess of Cornwall had to give up promiscuous handshaking while on their visit there recalls an incident of Mr. Gladstone’s memorable Midlothian tour. At one time there was a

HE GAVE EACH COMER A GRIP THAT HAD NO LACK OF CORDIALITY.

great handshaking ordeal at the window of the old gentleman’s railway carriage, and he was rapidly getting the worst of it. A stalwart young policeman who accompanied Mr. Gladstone proved equal to the occasion. Crouching behind the great man and thrusting his hand under Mr. Gladstone’s Inverness cape the muscular policeman gave each comer in turn a grip that had no lack of cordiality. “The auld man’s uncommon veegorous at his time o’ life,” observed one unsuspecting Scot as he stroked his fingers. “He is that,” concurred another of the policeman’s victims, “but did ye notice his nails ?”

Testing His Wit. Charles Battell Loomis recently gave a lecture in a little church in Scotch Plains, where he makes his home. The subject of his lecture was “American Humor.” After the author had quoted from and criticised several so called American humorists and had eulogized a few that pleased him well he drew to the close of his lecture by reading what he called “several bits of really exquisite humor.” When the lecture was over, and the author was on his way home, a friend who had accompanied him asked interestedly: “By the way, Loomis, who was the author of those last few bits you gave ?” “Well, I’ll tall you,” said the 'author, lowering his voice confidentially, “I’ve received so many contrary criticisms on my ‘wit’ that I was anxious to know whether I really had any or not. I decided to put it to a test. Those last few bits which sent our rural friends into spasms of laughter were ‘poor things, but mine own'!’ ” He Bolstered the Collection. A minister in a Kansas town recently adopted a novel scheme ft>r bolstering un the church collection) which had oeen diminishing. He informed his congregation just before the plates were passed around that the members who were in debt ’were not expected to contribute. The collection that day was double the usual sum.

HE KNEW SAGE’S HABIT.

One of the younger proprietors of one of the big department stores up town that advertise “bargain sales” on a special preannounced day every week has been winning all his expenses by betting with his coterie in Delmonico’s that Russell Sage would be one of the first to arrive at his store on the morning of the marked down disposals. He knew from experience that the veteran financier rarely in the spring and fall misses one of these “clearings out.” Mr. Sage picks up bargains in all sorts of things which he can find use for, from a pair of trousers ($3.50 —original price $7) to small kitchen utensils marked down from 5 cents to a penny apiece. “If every one would be as judicious in their buying as I am,” Mr. Sage once observed to the narrator of this true story, “there would be less poverty and the mortification and suffering resulting therefrom. Nearly every one is living beyond I his means.”—New York Times.

When Sir Thomas Returned.

The king fixed his eyes on Sir Thomas a little reproachfully. The gallant knight flinched slightly beneath the steady gaze. “Did you ‘catch the cup. Tommy ?” his majesty asked, and he asked it in the tone of a man who knows just what the answer will be. “I did not,” said Sir Thomas. He hove a heavy sigh as he said it. Then he hove two. “You did not,” repeated his majesty. “I know you did not. The trouble is that in knotical parlance you did not knot'fast enough.” The king’s features relaxed,as he relieved himself of this humorous sally, and, taking Sir Thomas by the arm, he permitted one eyelid to slightly droop as they passed down the corridor and through a green baize swinging door.—Cleveland Plain Dealer.

Paris and Snails.

Some alarm is expressed by certain Paris epicures because the supply of snails of the finest quality seems to be falling off to a serious extent. This apprehension, however, will cause no distress upon an extended scale, as the taste for the deliberate creature that carries his house upon his back has not been worldwide. In fact, it has never gained mufih ground outside of the Latin race, and beyond tjie borders of France itself the number of gourmets who have extolled the snail as a table delicacy of the most desirable sort has not made a long list. But snails are clean feeders. Why should there be anywhere a prejudice against them among the eaters of lobsters and crabs, of sty fed pigs and of the bulging legs of goggle eyed bullfrogs?

Sinking Creek Has Sunk Again.

The disappearance of Sinking creek, a large mountain stream in Pendleton county, W. Va., has mystified the people and has caused financial loss. It furnished power for several mills, but has suddenly disappeared. Some weeks ago the water in the stream began to fall and now the bed is almost drv. There has been plenty of rain, and the only explanation of the stream’s disappearance is that it has worn its way through into a subterranean cavern and joined one of the underground streams. Old citizens say that the creek disappeared in the same panner many years ago by finding a subterranean outlet. This incident gave the name to the creek. —Baltimore Sun.

Long Drawn Out.

When the French academy was founded in 1635, it started to make a dictionary of the language. This was first published in 1694 and a seventh edition in 1878. But about forty years ago a new dictionary was begun, the nation appropriating nearly $13,000 yearly to carry it on. So far the academy has not got beyond the letter A, and to stir it up there is talk of withdrawing the national grant unless better speed is shown.

A Kipling Story.

As a preface to his attack upon the recent army appointments in England Rudyard Kipling tells a stcry of a man who was carrying a bag and of whom a fellow traveler asked what it was that the bag contained. “Mongooses,” was the answer. “My brother sees snakes, and I’m taking the mongooses up to kill them.” “But vour brother doesn’t see real snales?” “No; but these aren’t real mongooses.”

An Automatic Bouncer.

A novel invention used in the north of England is a sort of automatic "bouncer” for use in public houses. Punctually at closing time the legend, “Time, please, gentlemen!” appears on a glass face, and then an electric gong starts ringing with such amazing power that it becomes quite impossible for even the moat enthusiastic toper to occupy the bar for another instant.

A LITTLE NONSENSE.

All He Asked Was to Have a Grave Rigged Up For Him. “There are funny incidents in the life of a photographer,” said a well known artist. “A man came in the other day and looked over all the samples, asking the price of each. “ ‘Do you want a sitting ?’ I asked. ‘“I don’t .see nothin* like what I want,* he replied. “I told him if he would indicate what he wanted that I might arrange it. , “ ‘I don’t know as you kin,’ he said, ‘for I don’t see nothin’ at all like what I want.’ •. “I repeated what I had already said. He asked me to sit while he told me. “ ‘You see, it’s like this,’ he began. ‘I had a girl that I loved, and we was goin’ to git married. She had her things made up, and as we was all but ready she was taken ill and died. And what I wanted was a picture of me sittin’ on her grave weepin’.* “I was touched at the homely story of grief and told him I could send a man with him to the grave and have the picture taken as he desired. “ ‘lt’s some distance,’ he said. ‘lt’s over in Ireland. I expect it ’ud cost a lot to send over your traps for what I want?* “I said it would. ‘“I thought,’ he answered, ‘that mebbe you could rig up a grave here in your shop, and I would weep on it, and it would do just as well. It’s no trouble for me to weep anywhere.’ ”

Obeying Orders.

Mabel—What on earth are you doing there, Pat ? Pat—Faith, Miss Mabel, yer mother tould me to see how high the thermometer was, and I’m just after measurin’ to see.

Gave Him an Idea. “Well, of all things!” exclaimed Mrs. Henry Peck. “This paper tells of a man who was declared insane, and his wife got a divorce, and now he gets the courts to declare him sane again! Now, what do you”— But Mr. Peck was out of the room and walking swiftly through the hall, murmuring: “I wonder where they give short time rates on padded cells.”—Baltimore American. Cool. Mrs. Klose—Good morning, madam, you’ll pardon my calling so early, but I saw your advertisement for a cook. Mrs. Hiram Offen—Surely you are not after the place! Mrs. Klose—Oh, no. I need a cook myself, and I thought you might send to me all the applicants you reject.—Philadelphia Press.

No Heroics. She (eagerly)—And what did papa say when you asked him for me ? He —Consented at once. She—Glorious! He—Oh, I don’t know. He might at least have given me an opportunity to tell him that I’d marry you even though we had to elope.— Ohio State Journal. Preparing For Ma*s Visit. Mrs. Todd—Dear me, why did yon buy all those hideous things to fill up our only spare room? It’s like a bear’s den. Mr. Todd—You know, dear, your mother is sure to visit us some time end I wanted to make her feel at home.—Chelsea (Mass.) Gazette. Cause For Grief. Mr. Binks—Why so unhappy ? Mrs. Binks—l hate that Mrs. Nexdoor with a deadly hate, and I’m perfectly miserable over it. Mr. Binks—She doesn’t know it. Mrs. Binks—That’s why I’m unhappy.—New York Weekly. Figuring on His Average. “How long has Graphter been in politics ?” “Well, let me see. He’s worth now about half a million. He must have been in politics ten years.”— Chicago Tribune. A Luxury. Elderly Spinster (coyly)—l think there should be a tax on the “single state,” don’t you, colonel ? Ungallant Bachelor—Yes, as on all other luxuries.—Detroit Free Press.

A NATURAL BORN THIEF.

Former Chief of Police Thofhas Byrnes, walking down Broadway a flew months ago with a friend, said: “See that man over there? Well, he is a natural born thief. I do not mean to intimate that he is a professional crook, but that he could not withstand the temptation to steal. He would steal just for the excitement.” Now, it chanced—one of those strange coincidences that so often occur—that this man came to board in the same house where Mr. Byrnes’ friend was. He recognized him when he made his appearance at the dinner table, but naturally hesitated to communicate what Mr. Byrnes had said to his fellow lodgers. The young man posed as the son of a wealthy manufacturer in a New England town who was here attending a postgraduate course in medicine. Polite and affable, though reserved, he soon ingratiated himself into the good graces of all in the house and had the run of their rooms. One morning he was missing, and it was discovered that there had been a wholesale robbery of the jewelry of all in the house.— New York Times.

The Russian Way.

An episode illustrative of Russian adherence to the letter of the law in the out of the way sections of the empire is told in a letter from the province of Archangel to a St. Petersburg daily. The hero of the story is an inventor who had completed the model of what he thought was a successful flying machine. He wanted to test it and applied to the local pristav (police captain) for “a permit to fly through the air.” The pristav said he was curious to see the experiment and .that he would let him know as soon as he had consulted the law on the subject. Three days later the police officer said to the inventor: “I am really sorry, old man, but I am compelled to refuse your request. I have spent three days in examining the lawbooks, but it’s no use. There is no law' bearing on the subject of flying through the air. I can’t allow it. I am very, very sorry.”

Philadelphia Pronunciation.

“It is becoming more and more common in Philadelphia,” says The Record of that city, “to give to words their English rather than their American pronunciation. When, some ten years ago, Professor Lamberton, coming to the University of Pennsylvania to teach Greek, pronounced clerk as though it were spelled ‘clark,’ people looked at one another and smiled, but nowadays the pronunciation is not uncommon. It is quite usual, too, to hear Berkeley pronounced in the English manner, ‘Barkley.’ and derby ‘darby,* while the ultra-English are trying, with good promise of success, to make the prevailing pronunciation of patent ‘paytent,’ as it is in London.”

The Longest Stone Arch Bridge.

The work upon the great stone arch bridge which is being erected by the Pennsylvania railroad across the Susquehanna river at Rockville, about five miles above Harrisburg, is rapidly nearing completion. The masonry work of the bridge, consisting of forty-eight seventy foot spans, has been completed, and the contractors are now putting the asphalt covering over the arches. When this is completed, the work of filling in, grading and Dullasting will be begun and the four tracks put down. Work upon this the largest stone arch railroad bridge in the world was begun less than two years ago. —Philadelphia Record.

French Police Stupidity.

An extraordinary case of police stupidity is reported from St. Quentin, writes a Paris correspondent. The driver of a motor car which had run through a covey of partridges on the highroad was visited at his hotel by a gendarme and was asked if he nad a shooting license. No such document being forthcoming, the motorist was served with summonses for two distinct offenses—killing and carrying off a partridge and failing to declare game on passing through the octroi barrier. It afterward transpired that one of the partridges had become entangled in and was killed by the radiator of the motor car.

Dredging For Gold.

Dredging rivers in gold bearing countries for gold has become a great industry, and dredges of wonderful power and capacity are being built to dredge sixty feet below the water line and to reach sixty feet above it, along the banks. Gold seekers in all countries where gold exists, even in very small quantities, are now organizing dredging companies to dredge for gold at relatively trifling cost. Millions upon millions of gold dust are to be reclaimed in this way.

FOR THE LITTLE ONES.

Queer Playhouse That Belong* to Some Detroit Children. The children that lived in the shoe didn’t know what fun was. That’s what the children that live in a bottle in Detroit think. There was the “old woman” to be reckoned with in the shoe, but G. Jay Vinton’s youngsters can get both fists full of jam in the pantry and then duck into a haven of refuge in their huge bottle and have it all to themselves. The bottle came in sections to the Vinton yard at 83 Stimson place

PLAYHOUSE IN A BOTTLE.

from Omaha, where it was once on exhibition in the Transmississippi exposition. It is made of wood. At Omaha it did double work as advertising agent for the firm whose goods it represented and as a candy booth. It was shipped back to Mr. Vinton, who built it, to be smashed up for firewood. But the ever alert young Vintons heard of it, and then they pleaded until he promised them the bottle for a playhouse. Though a ten foot section of the neck was left out and another section from the bottom, the cork is still high enough so that when the little fellows wake up they can see the cork of their playhouse through their second floor windows. The bottle has a door large enough for them to enter, though the children, are sure there would be more fun in crawling in and out where the cork fits in the neck. At least ten small children can get into the bottle and imagine to their hearts’ content that they are sirup and pickles and everything else that they can’t have much of.— Detroit Journal.

Young Clockmakcrs. Atlanta, Ga., boasts of some ingenious and ambitious boys since two lads of that place, the older but fourteen and the younger eleven, have designed and constructed a clock that is a wonder of painstaking work. It contains over 300 pieces of wood, all of them cut from hoards with a small foot power scroll saw and afterward sandpapered and put together with screws and mucilage. The clock represents a cathedral, from the dome of which a bell peals forth the hours of the day. Inside the building the columns and statuary of a cathedral are reproduced in wood. The clock is fifty-one inches high and twenty-one inches wide at the base, and the contrast in colors is decidedly pretty, the wood used being maple, white holly and walnut. The figures on the dial were cut from walnut with a pocketknife and look attractive on the white holly. Notwithstanding the simplicity of the tools used, the boys have succeeded in producing a timepiece of which they may be justly proud.— American Boy.

Was Moses a Cowboy? Fred heard his father talking about a cattle stampede in the west, where the cowboys were caught in the great rush and some of them trampled to death. After a minute or two of profound thought he said: “Papa, was Moses a cowboy?” “No, Fred. Why do you ask?” “Well, I’ve always heard of him as being in the bulrushes!”

Shaving His Dog. ths »imi. Bold up your head; put In your tongut; How badly you're behaving I Your whitkere, air, are murb too long; It'. time you thought of Mwvlng. You're older tar than 1 am. Smut, (Now, don't you turn away, air). And yet your hair har ne’er l>een cut. Nor hare you used a raaor. It won't be lon® before you'll see My whiakera will be .bowing; Ten years next birthday I shall lie, And fast, they Bay, I'm growing. ths Doo. How hinny my young master is. Such notions strange to harbor I What next, indeed! I'm sure my phis Requires no meddling bariier. Folks will not let our tails alone. But needs must cut them shorter. Our very earn are not our own; They crop <>S quite a quarter. There's many a thing (hat I could tell We have to struggle under. But when it comes to shaving—well, Tills is the crowning wonder! —Philadelphia Time*

LEARN TO KEEP STILL

A Philadelphian who knew Dr, Rixey, Mrs. McKinley’s physician, when he was a student in that city called on him in Washington and was invited to luncheon. The Philadelphian asked to be excused because of chronic indigestion, which, prevented his eating luncheon. “Nonsense,” said Dr. Rixey. “I have asked you to luncheon because I want to give you a good lecture. You are suffering from restlessness, pot dyspepsia. In the five minutes you have been sitting opposite to me you have looked at your watch four times, fumbled with the seal on your watch chain, twirled the handle of your umbrella when you didn’t stop to run your fingers’ through your hair and have talked incessantly without having anything particular to say. You simply waste your nervous force. Learn to keep still when you can and not to bother yourself about trifles that do not concern you. If patients knew how to, do nothing at the proper time, half the nerve doctors’ occupation would be gone.”

A Nice Little Boy.

Trust a messenger boy to be up on expressive slang. The particular one who had a message to deliver the other morning at the office of the general passenger agent of the Pennsylvania railroad was as tough looking a specimen as you could find in a day’s journey. His cap was placed at a perilous angle on his frowsy head, tobacco stains lurked about the corners of his mouth, and he was puffing a cigarette stump. The dignified clerk whotook the message scowled. “Sign dat,” demanded the boy, holding out his slip and expectorating copiously on the floor. “I’ll have you put out of here if you don’t know how to behave,”’ said the clerk severely. A look of scorn passed over the boy’s grimy features. “Aw, don’t git icy w T id me, or I’ll slide all over youse!” he exclaimed. Then he sauntered out whistling “Go Away Back and Sit Down.”—Philadelphia Record.

A Vicious Smuggler.

Readiness of resource is not a characteristic with which one is likely to credit the Russian peasant, but this story of a smuggler on the Russian frontier comes from Silesia and indicates that they may in some instances possess a nimble brain, although they use it mostly in criminal practices. The smuggler, who was carrying a number of bladders on a stick, was challenged by a customs officerHe said the bladders were not dutiable; but, the officer persisting in: wishing to examine them, the smuggler detached one and dealt the officer a blow on the head with it. The bladder, which contained pure spirit, burst and saturated him. Quickly the smuggler lit a match, and the officer was in a blaze. Another officer, who saw what had occurred, ran up and succeeded in extinguishing the flames, but the man’s life is despaired of. The miscreant succeeded in escaping.

Burning Tobacco.

A revivalist named A. Wagge has been preaching in Roanoke, Va., and advising the farmers to burn their tobacco crop in order to avoid burning themselves in the next world. Matthew Searce, a well known farmer, emptied eight barns which were filled with fine tobacco, piled it in one immense heap, invited his neighbors in and then’ set fire to the whole crop. It was valued at SB,OOO. The other farmers, however, are selling their tobacco, preferring that some one else should burn it after they get the money for it.

St. Louis Nutcrackers.

In St. Louis the nutcracking industry gives employment to a considerable number of persons. There are three plants in the city. The nutcrackers are driven by electricity, each nut being fed individually into the crusher. After the shells are cracked the nuts are winnowed by an air blast, and the meat is Eicked from the cracked shells by and, women and girls being employed for this part of the work,

One More “Less.”

The Belle Plaine (Kan.) Defender remarks: “Horseless carriages, wireless telegraphy, smokeless powder, hornless cattle, seedless raisins and brainless dudes have long been the vogue, but this year the fad seems to have taken hold of the farmers all over the country, and they have raised earless corn.”

Tspped the Silo.

Farmers about Cortland, N. Y., a prohibition district, were puzzled to find that their hands got drunk without any visible liquor supply. They finally discovered that the employees had tapped the silo for tho juice of the green cornstalks, which, fermented, makes a liquor that is pleasant but terrible.