Jasper County Democrat, Volume 18, Number 59, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 23 October 1915 — Page 6

Autumn Romance. -Were you a leaf gold tinted, And 1 a wandering breeze, We'd gaily go a-flying Where streams are lullabying Through woods by autumn minted, To far, old, welcoming seas, Were you a leaf gold tinted And I a wandering breeze. Were I a sunbeam youth And you the guardian tree, Whose gold and crimson treasures I praised in amorous measures, My words, however truthful, Would doubted be by thee. Were I a sunbeam youthful And you the guardian tree. Were you green garlands wearing And I the harvest sheen With serenade of passion I'd sing September’s fashion, Till, modest green forswearing, You’d blaze, a brilliant qjieen, Were you green garlands wearing And I the harvest sheen. Were I the moon of reaping And you the ripening grain. In my blue dome supernal I’d brew a draft nocturnal To set the world a-sleeping And flood your bright domain With the glory ever sweeping Round castles fair in Spain. —St. Louis Republic. An arm load of old papers for 6 cents. Notice of Ditch Sale. Notice is hereby given that the undersigned, Dever e Yeoman, drainage commissioner in charge of construction of the William H. Boyle, et al, ditch, Cause No. 125 of the Jasper Circuit Court, will at the east court room, in the court house, at Rensselaer, Indiana, on Friday, October 22, 1915, at the hour of 2 o’clock p. m., offer for sale at public outcry, to the lowest and best bidder therefor, the contract for the construction of said drain, in accordance with the plats, profiles and, specifications thereof, and the report of the drainage commissioners thereon, the same being now on file in the office of the clerk "of the Jasper Circuit Court. The' total number of cubic yards to be excavated by dredging machine is 477,871. The contract will be sold as a ■whole, or in two separate sections, as the undersigned may elect before the the sale. Each bidder will be required to deposit a certified check in the sum of $500.00 or file with the commissioenr his bond ior said amount, with good and sufficient sureties thereon, as a guarantee that if awarded the work he will enter into contract and give bond for the completion of the work as the law provides. The drainage commissioner reserves the right to reject any and all bids. DEVERE YEOMAN, Drainage Commissioner. A. Halleck, Attorney.

in the Commissioners’ Court November Term, 1915. In the Matter of the Petition of Horace G. Daniels, et al, for a Drain. Cause No. 2836. To Merritt E. Hayden; Ernest R. Mayhew; George B. Switzer; James A. Britt; Grace A. Britt; Harry G. Lutz; Ula Fisher; Celina E. Switzer; Edward P. Honan; Cerilda 'Daniels; James N. Leatherman; Greenbury B. Lewis; Sarah M. Snow; 4U)d Barkley Civil Township, by Chant DavlssOH, TfHUtOO. You and each of you are hereby notified that the petitioners in the above entitled cause have filed their petition in the office of the auditor of Jasper county, Indiana, praying for the change and repair of a drain upon and along the following described route, to-wit: Commencing at the outlet into the Gifford ditch, at a point 25 rods north and~“3T rods east of the center corner between Sections 15 and 22, Township 30 North, Range 6 West, and extending thence in a northwesterly direction along the route of the Honan ditch, a distance of about three-fourths of a mile. You are further notified that you are. named un said petition as being the owner ot lands Which will be affected by such proposed change and repair of said drain, and your lands are described therein. You are further notified'- that said petition is now pending, and will come up for hearing in the commissioners’ court of Jasper county, at the commissioners’ court room in the city of Rensselaer, Jasper county, Indiana, on Tuesday, the 3d day of November; 1915, the same being the second day of the November Term, 1915; of said court. HORACE G. DANIELS, ET AL. Petitioners. 1 Bill! REUL ESTATE IND - UTE STOCK mnoNEER FARM SALES A SPECIALTY Besides having practical experience I have a diploma from the Jones School of Auctioneering, and am prepared to conduct all sales entrusted to me in a satisfactory manner. Me M Rein*, Mm

THE SLAVE MART OF NEW ORLEANS.

l anious Old Building Where Negroes Were Auctioned Off in the Days Before the War. You are a lover of the quaint, the picturesque, the old, or you would not find yourself in the old slave mart of Le Vieux Carre De New Orleans on a glowering day, when the storm clouds overhanging the east are sending out streaks of lightning. Presently you pass through an ornate entrance to the ground floor of a huge old wrinkled building, peeling off for Its final plunge into oblivion. It is the historic Hotel St. Loaiis, erected in 1836. Don Pedro, emperor of Brazil, and afterward his grandson, were its guests. Here banqueted statesmen, princes and famous men, and here, before the changing of the tides, were sittings of legislative bodies.

As you stand in the listening silence, in the dampness of mold and decay, you unconsciously, visualize the life of a long-gone yesterday. Now suddenly you start, disturbed by an impression of sound down a long, dark, dusty passageway. It is only the rain seeping in, drip, drip, every spatter echoing hollowly in the emptiness. Again you drift back to your dreams, and again your nerves twang, this time at the scuttle of a rat in the broken wainscoting behind an old slave block, showing Che crumbling, though quite distinguishable, name of a famous auctioneer of ante-bellum days. Beyond the block and the mart about it your searching eyes find a wide expanse of earth and cement floor bordered by rows of cells almost wholly stripped of bars, where slaves were held before their appearance upon the block to be sold to the highest bidder.

With a swift intake or breath you reach the • rusty gratings apd peer into the dusky interior. You catch a whiff of chill, earthy air and the plaintive chirp of a cricket. It requires but a slight turn of your imagination to people the prison with soft-eyed, patient slaves awaiting orders with the stolidity and obedience that was part of their nature. You see the old and the young, the strong and the weak, and all the various types, from a coarse Herculean African to a slender, clear-eyed octoroon. The octoroon holds your attention. She is young and strong and will sell for several thousand dollars. In a moment she stands on the block and the voice of the auctioneer leaps out like a whip lash: Gentlemen, this is a likely wench. What am I bid for her?’’ There follows a rapid, sing-song recital of the girl's saleable points, ending with scarcely a noticeable break in the crisp, persuasive challenge: . '’What am I bid?”

A prosperous looking planter strides forward and touches her arms appraisingly, then his hand falls unabashed to her strong bare ankles. He steps back obviously pleased, calling out with assumed indifference: “One thousand dolars!” Higher the bids go, higher and higher; voices rise and fall, rise and soar and swell, until at last the hammer falls, the babble subsides arid the octoroon steps down to her new master. As by no volition of your own, your mind slips back to the cells and to a buxom, kind-faced mammy, created and endowed to nurse the offspring of white mothers. She will bring but a modest price in the mart, for there are many of her kind. Here is a young quadroon, there a gray old Creole darky, somewhere else a very black and strapping half-grown negress. You sense their speaking voices, deep and melodious, a jargon of French and Spanish inlaid with many little English words. Suddenly, in the cells occupied by the men, the coarser blacks break out in a burst of wild, weird song, cut through by the tam-tam of a drum made of a gourd covered with sheepskin. A tall and sinewy negro rises and steps out quickly to the center of the floor and dances with rolling eyes and gaping riiouth to the time of the primitive drum. Now, a bat flutters out of the Shadows and brushes yeur face, while you stir out of cramping muscles with a muttered word of relief. Drip, drip, drip, the rain seeps in, steadily now, like a clock ticking.

You mount a flight of broad and creaking walnut stairs and pause at the first landing to view a pink and lilac tracery on the wall which once represented a painting of DeSoto’s first view- of the Mississippi. You glance at two holes high up in the outer wall which show the light like a pair of prying eyes under shaggy brows, then you take a bracing breath and go on. But you halt abruptly at the sound of an opening door and the echo of slow and dragging feet comifig nearer and nearer. In a moment a woman short and heavy of build, with the mingled air

of graciousness and reserve, is before you. She is the chatelaine. You know it before she says “Entrez!’ in her charming throaty French. She has on a skirt of faded crimson and blue, with a basque-like bodice of luminous green. She wears a cap of soiled D’Alencon lace, and a fine old brooch of jet as sparkling black as her deep-set eyes. Instinctively you drop a piece of silver into the bag which dangles with a bqnch of keys from her ample waist, and follow her shuffling lead. To the accompaniment of her explanatory and also rapid French, you are shown salons with cracked and sunken marble fireplaces, salons with vanished onyx floors, once pressed by the satin-clad feet of many beautiful women, mildewed mirrpws made jn the days of the first empire, crystal chandeliers with broken pearshaped prisms, and walls from which priceless frescoes and friezes and medallions have been removed, bits of bronze from an old balustrade, the battered fragments of a fountain.

When you have looked Into countless chambers and heard the history of each, you come upon a half open door which reveals a scene of homely comfort. Here lives the chatelaine, alone, save for a white cockatoo, a canary and a tortoise shell cat. There’s one old mended antique chair upholstered in gay colored chintz, a spindle-legged table rich with carving and black with age, a shelf set with a row of clean blue dishes and shining pots and pans. A kettle singing over the fire gives out the appetizing smell of a shrimp pot-pourri. On the broad window ledge is a box of kitchen bouquet; basil, cheval, criander, and on the odd little balcony jutting out from it a sweet box garden of petunias, cypress vines and myrtle. Above it a frightened clothesline flaps in the wind and rain. Here you say “B’soid,” and insist that you can find your way without further guidance. You retrace your steps, halting now and then to be certain of your direction, and come at last to the landing where you first stopped to view the ruin of a fine old tapestry. On you go to the great ground floor and linger a moment for one last look at the slave man. Then your feet find the quiet street and a cool, mist-dnyen wind smites your face refreshingly. You swing back easily to the present and everyday realities, but the old Hotel St. Louis is graven upon your heart. It will slip into your thoughts again and again no matter where you may be. At the theater perhaps, at the dance, in the busy, noisy rounds of life rather than in the silences, you will remember, you will resee it, relive it. And you will here the sound of rain seeping in; drip, drip, drip, the plaintive chirr of a cricket and the scatter of a rat in the broken wainscoting.—Kansas City Star.

The Birds.

Why should birds fear a human being? They have no fear of the horse or cow. There are birds that even light on the back of a cow and devour the flies that are troublesome. If mankind were kind and thoughtful of the rights of birds what a pleasure it might be. Every small boy and girl should be taught to love all birds and never to disturb or frighten them. Their companionship and their songs more than repay the little fruit or grain that they eat. And we connot forget that but for the aid of the birds we could not have fruit or grain. “The hop aphis,” the North American tells us, "developing 13 generations in a year, at the end of the twelfth generation would have multiplied to the inconceivable number of ten sextillions of individuals.” Forbush says: “If this brood were marshaled in a line 10 to the inch, it would extend to a point so sunk in profundity of space that, light from the head of the procession, traveling at the rate of 1 84,000 miles per second, would require 2,500 years to reach the earth.” Think once what would be our condition if the birds should fail to destroy this one kind of insect. And other kinds are innumerable. What love and protection and care we owe these birds!—Milwaukee Journal.

Names Is Names.

Cheeshahteoumuck has scored two 'Harvard records which bid fair to stand for generations to come. “Cheese” is tile only pure-blooded Indian who can boast a Harvard degree, and ’he has the longest surname of the 7,967 living Harvard alumni. Aab of Siam, a recent graduate, lacks a handle to his name, and consequently he is first choice for the shortest name. Swiss yodlers would hail with delight a chance to harmonize to such names as Ho, Hu, Ju, Li, Lo and Ma, the names of Japanese graduates. Fall, Winter, Spring and Summer are catalogued, as are South, West, North and Easton.—Cambridge Cor. New York World.

Who Killed Gerald Trask? Who Stole the Money? E ON TRIAL ' ••■' '■ ■■• '- ’ . .■ ’■ ' .. ’ ‘ ■ -- - '• . ’ ■ ' ■ l’' r ' ■ . . Our Thrilling, Heart Gripping New Serial, and Solve the Baffling Mystery

ON TRIAL Is a Novelization of the Great Play of the Same Name, Which Is the Biggest Theatrical Success of the Decade

Watch for this Great Serial Story—“On Trial” The First Installment will Appear in THE DEMOCRAT of November 6. Sale Bills IHHH XX 7 E have a large assortment of * ” cuts—horses, cattle, sheep, hogs, I ■■ \ ■ farming tools, etc.-==from which to make a selection for use in printing sale bills. We are prepared to print your bills on very short notice, in fact, we will print i them while you wait. With each set of bills we publish a complete notice of your sale in each issue of The Democrat up to date of sale without extra charge. Remember, when in need of them, to order your set of sale bills here. The Democrat

Q- A ROBERT STRICKLAND, ON TRIAL FOR HIS LIFE