Jasper County Democrat, Volume 15, Number 49, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 21 September 1912 — Page 7

My Lady of the North

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CHAPTER VII. > . A Disciple of Sir Walter Even as I gazed upon her, my admiration deeper than my pain, the arch expression of her face changed; there came a sudden rush of pity, of anxiety into those clear, challenging eyes, and with one quick step she drew nearer and bent above me. “Oh, Captain Wayne;” she cried, her warm, womanly heart conquering all prejudice, “you are badly hurt and bleeding. Why did you not tell me? Please let me aid you.” “I fear I must,” I replied grimly. “I would gladly spare you, for indeed I do not believe my injury sufficiently serious to cause alarm, but I find I have only one arm I can use at present; the brute got his teeth Into the other.”

“Oh, believe me, I can do it.” She spoke bravely, a sturdy ring of confidence in the voice, although at the thought her face paled. “I have been in the hospitals at Baltimore, and taken care of wounded soldiers. If there was only some water here!” She glanced about, dreading the possibility of having to go forth into the night alone in search of a spring or well.

“I think yon will find a pail on the bench yonder,” I said, for from where I leaned against the wall I could see out into the shed. “It was doubtless left for the dog to drink from.” She came back with it, tearing down a cloth from off a peg in the wall as she passed, and then, wearing a resolute air of authority, knelt beside me, and with rapid fingers, flung back my jacket, unfastening the rough armj shirt, and laid bare, so far as was possible, the lacerated shoulder.

“Forgive me,,” she said anxiously, “but I fear I can never dress it in this way. We must remove your jacket and cut away the sleeve of your shirt.”

At last the disagreeable task was accomplished, the wounded shoulder completely bared. Her face was deathly white now, and she shielded her eyes with her hand.

“Oh, what a horrible wound!” she exclaimed, almost sobbing. “How that great brute must have hurt you!” “The wound is not so serious as it appears,” I replied reassuringly, and glad myself to feel that I spoke the truth, “but I confess the pain is intense, and makes me feel somewhat faint. It was not so much the mere bite of the dog, but unfortunately he got his teeth into an old wound and tore it open.” “An old wound?"

“Yes; I received a Minie ball there at Gettysburg, and although the bullet was extracted, the wound never properly healed.” She performed her disagreeable task with all the tenderness of a sympathetic woman, and as she worked swiftly and deftly, made no attempt to conceal the tears clinging | to her long lashes. Skilfully the deep, jagged gash was bathed out, 1 and then as carefully bound up with j the softest cloths she cmild find at hand. The relief was great, and I felt, as I moved the shoulder, that saving the soreness it would probably not greatly bother me. “Now you must lie back and rest,” she said commandingly, as I attempted to thank her. “As your nurse I command absolute quiet,” striving to speak gaily. “See, the daylight is already here, and I mean to discover if this lone cabin contains anything which human beings can eat; I confess -that I am nearly famished.” “A most excellent symptom, and I Imagine your quest will not be wholly vain. To my eye that greatly resembles a slab of bacon hanging beside the chimney.” “It indeed is,” she exclaimed, “and I feel as a shipwrecked seaman must on first beholding land.” However my naturally energetic spirit at inactivity, for the time being my faintness precluded any thought of doing other than obeying her orders, and I lay there silent, propped up against the logs, my eager eyes following her rapid, graceful movements with a constantly increasing interest. As she worked, the reflection of the red flames became mingled with the gray dawn, until the bare and cheerless interior grew more and more visible. Her search was far from unsuccessful, While her resourcefulness astonished me, old campaigner as I was; for it was scarcely more than full daylight before she had me at the table, and I was doing full justice to such coarse food as the larder furnished.

The eating helped me greatly; hut for some time so busy were we that neither of us spoke. On my own part I experienced a strange hesitancy in addressing her upon terms of equality. Ordinarily not easily embarrassed in feminine society, I felt In this instance a definite barrier between us, which prevented my feeling at ease. Now and then as w? sat opposite each other, eating amid a silence most un-

Tiff lOVE STORY OF A GRAY JACKET

By RANDALL PARRISH

pleasant, I would catch her eyes glancing across at me, but they were lowered instantly whenever I ventured to meet them. Finally I broke the stillness with a commonplace remark: “I presume your people will be greatly worried by this time over your mysterious disappearance.” A flush swept her throat and cheeks, but she did not lift her eyes from the plate. "Yes,” she answered slowly, “Frank js doubtless searching for me long before this.”

“Frank?” I asked, feeling glad of this opportunity to learn more of her relationships. "You forget, possibly, that your friends are strange to me. You refer to the gentleman who expected to meet you on the road?” “To Major Brennan, yes.” There was nothing about the tone of her reply that invited me to press the inquiry further. One thing, however, was reasonably certain, —the man she called “Frank” could not be her father. I longed to ask if he was a brother, but the restraint of her whole manner repelled the suggestion. “Did I understand that you have nursed in the Federal hospitals at Baltimore?” I questioned, more to continue the conversation than from any deep interest. “Merely as a volunteer, and when the regular nurses were especially busy. Major Brennan was stationed there for some time when I first visited him, and I felt it my duty as a loyal woman to aid the poor fellows.”

I remained silent, striving vainly to frame some innocent question which should solve for me the problem of who and what she was. Suddenly she spoke softly: "Captain Wayne, I feel I owe you an apology for my unwarranted and unladylike conduct last night. I am very sure now that you are a gentleman, and will appreciate how bitterly I was tried, how deeply I have ever since regretted it.” It hurt her pride to say even this much, as I could tell by her downcast eyes and heaving bosom, and I hastened to relieve her embarrassment.

“You have nothing whatever to ask forgiveness for," I said earnestly. “Rather such a request should come from me. I only trust, Miss Brennan, that you will excuse my part in this extremely unfortunate affair.”

She sat looking down upon her plate, her fingers nervously crumbling a bit of corn bread.

“You do not even known who I am,” she said slowly. “I am not Miss, but Mrs. Brennan.”

I felt as if a dash of cold water had been suddenly thrown in my face. “Indeed?” I stammered, scarcely knowing what I said. “You appear so young a girl that I never once thought of you as being a married woman.” "I was married very early; indeed, before I was seventeen. My husband—”

What she was about to add I could but conjecture, for a quick change in the expression of her face startled me. “What is it?” I questioned, half rising to my feet, and glancing over my shoulder toward the wall where her eyes were riveted.

“Something resembling a hand pushed aside the coat hanging yonder,” she explained in low trembling tone, “and I thought I saw a face.” Believing it to be merely her overwrought nerves which were at fault, I sought to soothe her. “It was probably no more than a shadow,” I said, crossing to her side of the table, to enable her better to feel the influence of my presence. "Let us be content to sit here by the door, for we should be taking too great a risk of discovery if we ventured into the open.” I had barely spoken these words and placed my fingers on her hand to lead her forward when the small door which opened into the shed was thrown back noisily, and two great shaggy dogs, the evident mates of the dead brute at our feet, leaped fiercely in. She shrank toward me with a sob of terror; but even as I drew a revolver from my belt, a man and a woman appeared almost simultaneously in that same opening. “Down, Douglas! down, Roderick! Ha! ‘There lies Red Murdock, stark and stiff!’ —down, you brutes; you’ll be dead yourselves sometime." The man strode forward as he spoke, clubbing the frenzied brutes with the stock of the long rifle he carried.

"‘Yelled on the view the opening pack,’ ” he quoted, as he distributed his blows impartially to right and left; “‘rock, glen, and cavern paid them back.’ Them thar be Scott’s words, stranger, an’ I reckon as how ol’ Sii Walter knew whut he wus writin’ ’bout. Stop thet blame youlin’, you Roderick, er I’ll take t’other end o’ this gun ter ye.” He redoubled his efforts for peace, finally driving the rebellious beasts back into , one corner, where they sat upon their haunches and eyed us wistfully. “ ‘Two dogs of black Saint Hubert’s

breed, unmatched lor courage, bream, and speed,’ ” he exclaimed, wiping the perspiration from his face with the back of one hand and staring at us, ’specially the breath.” He was a fierce-looking little fellow, scarcely more than a half-grown bey in size, with round, red face full of strange wrinkles, and head as oddly peak-shaped as I ever looked upon. It went up exactly like the apex of a pea*, while the upper portion was utterly bald. He formed a most remarkable contrast to the tall, rawboned, angular female who loomed uplike a small mountain just behind him. ‘T reckon as how you unshed quite a bit of a scrap afore ye laid thet thar dorg out, stranger,” he said, a half-angry tone lurking in his deep voice. “ ‘The fleetest hound in all the North,’ an’ I’m durned if I jist likes ther wav you uns makes yerselves et hum in this yere cabin.”

“Shet up, Jed Bungay,” cut in his better-half, sharply, and as she spoke stfie caught the little man unceremoniously by one arm, and thrusting him roughly to one side strode heavily forward until she paused in the centre of the room facing us with her arms akimbo.

“Now I’d jist like ter know,” she said sa\*fcjely, “who you uns be, a breakin’ into a hour*:, and a killin’ a dorg, an’ a eatin’ up everything we uns got without so much as a sayin’ ‘by yer leave’ er nuthin’. I reckon as how you uns don’t take this yere cabin fer no tavern?”

“Madam,” I said with a low bow, “it is misfortune, not desire, which has caused us to trespass upon your hospitality. We will very gladly pay you liberally for any damage done. I am an officer in the Confederate service, and the breaking down of our horses compelled us to take refuge here in order that this lady might not be exposed to danger from roving gangs of guerillas. The dog attacked us in the dark, and we killed him in order to save our lives.”

“ ‘The deep-mouthed bloodhound’s heavy bay resounded up the rocky way,’ ” ejaculated Bungay with dancing eyes.

“Drat yer potry, Jed Bungay! ye dew make me tired fer suah.” She turned back to us, and from her first words it was plainly evident she had been impressed with but one sentence of my labored explanation. “Did you uns say as how ye’d pay fer whut ye et and fer thet truck ye busted?” she asked doubtfully. “Certainly, madam, and I took some money from my pocket as evidence of good faith. “What would you consider due you?” The grim, set face relaxed slightly, while she permitted her husband to edge his way a little more into the foreground. “Wal, stranger, I sorter reckon as how ’bout four bits ’ill squar’ things—dorgs is mighty dura cheap hereabout enyhow. Give me ther four bits, mister, an’ I reckon as how it ’ll be all right."

I glanced at Mrs. Brennan, and the amused twinkle in her eyes led me to say heartily, “We had not entirely completed our meal, but imagined we saw ghosts.”

“Ghosts!” He glanced around apprehensively,— “ ‘On Heaven and on thy lady call, and enter the enchanted hall!’ Wus ther ghosts ye saw over thar?” And he pointed toward the wall opposite. I nodded. “Then I sorter reckon as how Mariar and me wus them ghosts,” he continued, grinning. “We sorter reckoned as how we wanted ter see who wus yere afore we come in. ‘l’ll listen till my fancy hears the clang of swords, the crash of spears.’ These yere is tough times, stranger, in these parts, an’ a man whut has ter pertect a lovely female hes got ter keep his eye skinned.”

Marla sniffed contemptuously. “Ye’re no great shakes at a pertectin’ o’ me, Jed Bungay. Now you sit down thar an’ begin ter fill up. I reckon as how ther Cap an’ his gal will kinder jine with us fer manners.”

She seated Jed with such extreme vigor that I looked for the chair to collapse bfc-it *Tm as he came down, but the i. —an, not in the least daunted, pickt_ Ms knife and fork with a sigh of "‘0 woman! in our hours of ease uncertain, coy, and hard to please,’ ” he murmured. “Come, sit down, stranger; ‘sit down an’ share a soldier’s couch, a soldier’s fare.’ Not as I’m a sojer,” he hastened to explain, “but tbet’s how It is in ther book. Say, old woman, kint ye kinder sker up some coffee fer we uns—leastwise whut us Confeds call coffee?” • •»

Without much difficulty I induced Mrs. Brennan to draw her chair once more to the table, and I sat down beside her.

"You are Confederate, then?” I asked, curious to know upon which side his sympathies were enlisted in the struggle. He glanced warily at my gray jacket, then his 'shrewd, shifty eyes wandered to the blue and yellow cavalry cloak lying on the floor.

“Wal, I jist don’t know, Cap,” he said cautiously, continuing to eat as he talked, “as I’m much o’ enything in this yere row. First ther durned gray-backs they come snoopin’ up yere, an’ run off all my horgs; then ther blame blue-bellies come ’long an’ cut down every lick o’ my corn fodder, so thet I’ll be cussed If I ain’t 'bout ready ter fight either side. Anyhow I ain’t did no fightin’ yit worth talkin’ ’bout, fer Mariar is pow’ful feared I’d get hurt.” Maria regarded him scornfully. "Hiding out, I suppose?” “Wal, ’t ain’t very healthful fer us ter be stayin’ et hum much o’

ther time, long with tnat Char Red Lowrie, an’ Jim Hale, an’ the rest o’ thet cattle ’round yere.” “Guerillas pretty thick now in the mountains?”

‘Wal, I dunno; I heerd as they wus doin’ somethin’ down by ther brick church, but thar’s no great shakes of ’em jist ’round yere. I reckon as how they knows ’nough ter keep ’way from Jed Bungay—l’d pitch ’em ‘far as ever peasant pitched a bar.’ ”

“You have no fear of them, then?” “Whut, me?” The little man sat bolt upright, and glared fiercely across the table as though he would resent an insult. “I jist tell ye. Cap, I reckon thar ain’t no guerilla a goin’ ter poke his nose ’round yere ’less he’s a lookin’ fer sudden death; thar’s mighty few o’ ’em ain’t heerd o’ Jed Bungay— Whut in thunder's ther matter with yer gal?” He stopped suddenly, and stared at her; but before I could turn about in my chair one of the great dogs began to growl savagely, and Maria sprang forward and cuffed the surly brute into rebellious silence.

“It’s hosses,” she said harshly. “Likely as not it’s Red’s gang. Now, Jed Bungay, yere’s two lovely females fer veter perfect.” As I hastily sprang to my feet I caught a fleeting glimpse out of the Partially opened door. Down the steep of the hill road there was slowly moving toward us on foot a small party of perhaps a dozen men, so variously clothed as to make it evident they were irregulars. Just ahead of them, but on horseback, two others were even then turning into the narrow path that led to the house, attracted probably by the smoke which streamed from the chimney-top. (.To be Continued.)

Difficult Scriptures on Hell.

A little Book selling at only ten cents, postpaid, is having a very wide circulation—running up into the millions. It contains some very startling information respecting the meaning of the word HelL It claims to demonstrate, both from the Hebrew and the Greek of our Bible, that Hell is NOT a place of eternal torment, but merely another name for the TOMB, the GRAVE, THE STATE OF DEATH. It affects to show that man was not redeemed from a far-off place of eternal torture, but quotes the Scriptures proving that he was REDEEMED from the GRAVE at the cost of his Redeemer’s LIFE and that the Scriptural Hope, bath for the Church and the World, is a resurrection hope based upon the death and resurrection of Jesus. The book is certainly worth the reading. The information it furnishes is certainly valuable, far beyond its trifling cost Order it at once from the Bible and Tract • Society, 17 Hicks street, Brooklyn, N. Y.

'Phone 315 if in need of anything in the job printing line and a repcall upon you promptly.

The KITCHEN CABINET

And in my heart despondence sighs; When life her throng of c&res reveals, And weakness o’er my spirit steals, Grateful I hear the kind decree That “As my day, my strength shall be." CHERRY TIME. This delicious fruit is not only used for food in the shape of soups, sauces, pickles and condiments, pies and cherry cakes, but they are manufactured Into kirschwasser and maraschino.

The fresh fruit, after being pitted, if an equal quantity of sugar is added and stirred until thoroughly dissolved, will, if canned and kept in a cool place, keep as well as if cooked, and one may have a fresh dish of cherries or a cherry pie in November. A cherry pudding fbade of a cup of flour, a little salt and milk enough to make a thin batter, the flour sifted with two teaspoonfuls of baking powder, is a simple and most satisfying dessert. Butter cups and put in a little of the batter, then a tablespoonful of pitted and sweetened cherries, another spoonful of batter. Steam in hot water for fifteen minutes and serve with cream and sugar. Cherry Dumplings. —Take four cupfuls of flour, two tablespoonfuls of lard, two cupfuls of sweet milk, one teaspoonful of soda and two of cream of tartar, a half teaspoonful of salt, a cupful of sugar and two of pitted cherries. Rub the fat into the flour and prepare as for biscuits, roll out and cut in squares; place as many of the sweetened cherries in each square as they will hold, pinch the edges together and lay the pinched edges downwards in a greased baking pan. Bake until brown and serve with whipped cream. Cherry Olives. —Pit cherries and cover with vinegar and let stand over night. In the morning drain off the vinegar and add sugar of equal weight of the cherries; stir until dissolved, keeping covered in a cool place, where they may be stirred frequently, then cover with a cloth and a plate, and in a few weeks they are ready to servq with the meat course. They are simply delicious. The vinegar may be made with the addition of sugar into a very good shrub.

313

IN THE LIMEMIGHT

J. P. DON’T KNOW AND HAS NO THINK

wore a gray sack suit and a small Panama with the rim turned up all around and bit one-of the Morgan dollar cigars and held his cane in the air. He said: “Good morning” to the newspaper squad, but gave no chance for an interview. “Go away. Get out. Nothing to say. Wouldn’t say it here if I had! ’Way. Leave me alone,” was his answer to the request for a talk. . “Mr. Morgan, will you ” “No, I won’t. You know I won’t. Why do you bother me this way?" He glared not so unpleasantly. Mr. Morgan’s face was ruddy, showing that he had been out in the sun. The young man suggested to Mr. Morgan that he could ge( his salary raised if he could extract an Interview from him. “All right. How much will they raise it? I’ll pay the difference. Glt# you a check right now. But tell me how much and thei#get out.” “Mr. Morgan, you were pretty close to Emperor William?” He whirled. “Who said so? Who told you that?” “It was cabled to the newspapers.” “Well,” the Wall street power snapped, "what of It? For God’s s&ket what of It?” “Winston Churchill made a speech In parliament.” “Did he, did he?” Inquired Mr. Morgan, becoming Interested, and turning upon the companion way. “What did he say? What did he say?” “He called for 500,000 pounds and expressed an open fear of Germany.” “Humph!” said the kaiser’s guest. “Do you think that means war?” “How should I know?” he replied, without turning. “Hpw should t know?” • X "But you were with Emperor William?” “He did not tell me he was going to war. He didn’t tell me anything about It. See, here,” continued Morgan, putting his emphatic fist under the reporter’s nose, “I don’t know and I don't think. I have got no think. Understand?” \ 7 -'Of.,

THE RAPID RISE OF CHARLES D. HILLES

C. D. Hilles, today field marshal of the Republican forces, was, less than four years ago, guarding the interests of several hundred orphans in a juvenile asylum at Lancaster, Ohio, of which he was the superintendent. His rapid rise in public life is a dramatic story and Intensely American in its illustration of the opportunity that, even in these days, awaits the young man who does his job well. From the hour of his renominatioo President Taft steadily Insisted that his secretary was the right man to head the national committee, and after a little consideratioa of the character of Mr. Hilles the seasoned politicians reached the same decision. Who is Mr. Hilles and why has he succeeded where his predecessora have consistently failed? By what art does he succeed as secretary to the president, recognized as the most difficult official billet in Washington? Why does the president prefer him as a

leader in the campaign? The answer to these questions, direct from thft White House, 1b Hilles has “the poise and the touch.” It was the Chicago pre-convention campaign that made Mr. Hilles » national figure in politics. He had quietly organized the campaign in & thorough and painstaking manner that permitted Representative McKinley, the president’s political manager, to start with an efficient organization. At ( hicago, where Mr. Hilles was the personal representative of tltt president, he surprised frlendß and foes alike by his deep insight into every move of the opposition and his ready defence for each attack. His capacity for work kept him going until three and four o’clock in th* morning without his feeling it. He went about his work in his orderly way, carrying it to his rooms with him In his suit cases, as if he were about t* start on a long trip.

HETTY GREEN TO JOIN CHURCH

district had taken advantage of the Saturday afternoon holiday, Mrs. Green was still busy, but as soon as she could straighten out everything she said she was ready to go with the minister. Colonel Green had his car In readiness and the trip across the river to 1 Jersey City on their spiritual mission was made. Several persons noticed Mrs. Green as she alighted from the car add entered the rectory, but nobody recognized her. Even the sexton of the church was kept in ignorance. The baptismal ceremony was conducted in the church. Owing to the advanced age of Mrs. Green sponsors were not required, according to the church laws, and Colonel Green merely acted as a Witness. The Greens returned to New York after the ceremony. Mrs. Green will now prepare herself for confirmation, a ceremony that will be conducted by Bishop Edwin 8. Lines of the New York diocese.

J. Pierpont Morgan, who knowß • few things about finance and art, music and ecclesiastical history, got back from Europe the Other day. He had been away about six months during approximately the period the Stanley committee haa been occupied In taking testimony and reporting. He has been up the Nile, In the art and money centers, and has done some yatching on hie Corsair, which arrived ahead of Its owner.

The yacht, with members of his family and grandchildren aboard, raking the steamer fore and aft with marine glasses, was at quarantine early in the morning. Son Jack Morgan went aboard the ship and found his father at breakfast. Mr. Morgan’s niece, Miss Annie Tracey,and her friend, Miss Berwlnd, who were passengers, were at the same table. The banker was very afTable, If uncommunicative, when seen later. He

Mrs. Hetty Green, who is in her seventy-eighth year, was baptized the other day In the Episcopal faith in order to prepare for confirmation as a member of the church. The ceremony was performed in Jersey City by the Rev. Augustine Elmendorf, rector of Holy Cross Episcopal church, Arlington and Claremont avenues, in the presence of Col. Edward Howland Robinson Green, on whose shoulders have fallen much of hla mother’s great business responsibilities. , Father Elmendorf, as the clergyman is called by his parishioners, is distantly related to Mrs. Green, and for five or six years he has been endeavoring to induce her to think less of things earthly. He kept his secret to himself and labored diligently in hla role of missionary by writing letters or carrying the message to her office in person. i Father Elmendorf went to the Trinity building, in New York city where Mrs. Green has her office, on the day of the ceremony. Although the great majority of workers In the financial