Jasper County Democrat, Volume 20, Number 98, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 9 March 1918 — HAPPENINGS IN OUR NEIGHBORING VILLAGES [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

HAPPENINGS IN OUR NEIGHBORING VILLAGES

INDEPENDENCE Jack Cooper husked corn for Alf McCoy Monday. Zack Stanley moved Friday to the Harry Gifford farm. Lottie Michaels spent Sunday evening with Dora Daniels. Miss Grace Knapp spent Tuesday night with Esther Snow. Alice Galbreath spent Sunday afternoon with Geraldine Dale. Bluford Torbet and Everett McCleary were Gifford callers Monday. Jack Cooper and family spent Sunday with his brother Simon and family. Oci© Nicholson departed for his new home near Danville, Illinois, Saturday. Sunday school at Independence Sunday at 2:30. Everybody invited to attend. Mrs. Sarah McCleary and son Everett spent Sunday with Mr. and Mrs. Bluford Torbet. Elmer Schroyer, James Britt and Dora Daniels attended a party at Miss Grace Knapp’s at Wheatfield Saturday night. - GIFFORD Lon Daniels spent Sunday here. George Lambert is working for John Eger. Tom Lambert is on the sick list at this writing. - Albert Akers of Tefft spent Sunday in our burg. Thomas Tanner buzzed wood for Will Obenchain Monday. Mr. and Mrs. Earl Haniford moved to our burg Monday. , Mrs. Chester Caster called on Mrs. Harry Reed Tuesday. Miss Sylvia Lambert spent Monday with Mrs. Mose Hancock. Vera Keen spent Sunday with home folks. Mr. Keen is husking

corn at Kersey for his brother-in-law, Orville Fisher. Tim Perkins, who has been visiting relatives here, went to Illinois with his family Monday to work by the month for J. B. Johnson, near Ludlow. Tuesday Art Snow moved a house here from Laura which he had purchased from Albert Hurley, and placed same on his lot here. He moved into same the latter part of the week. John Hill has moved from S. C. Irwin’s farm onto Joseph Scholl’s farm, and Jesse Nuss has moved to the former place. Grover Norris has moved to the George F. Meyers farm east of town. (The Gifford items last week were misplaced and therefore did not appear.—Ed.)

MANY CHILDREN ARE SICKLY. Mother Gray’s Sweet Powders for children break up colds in 2 1 hours, relieve feverishness, headache, stomach troubles, teething disorders, and destroy worms. At all druggists, 25c. Sample mailed FREE. Addresss Mother Gray Co., Le Roy, N. Y.— Advt. FAIR OAKS We have a few remnants of the large snow drifts in different places. Cottage prayer meeting was held at Abe Bringle’s Wednesday evening. Health is reasonably good with us aside from a few cases of rheumatism. We were visited by quite a snow storm Wednesday evening. Guess it is the bluebird storm. Arthur Powell and family of Rensselaer “Forded” up Sunday and took dinner with James Clifton’s. -Strs. Jesse Garriott, who has been on the sick list for some time, is

now making satisfactory recovery. Rev. Downey delivered a splendid sermon from the M. E. pulpit Sunday evening to a good sized congregation, March, certainly, as the old saying goes, came in as calm as a lamb. Look out for the lion at the out-going. “ Charles Penwright of Mt. Ayr, who had been to Chicago to see his daughter, stopped off here Tuesday night on his way home and spent the night with James Clifton. George Marion of Parr was in our town between trains Saturday. He brought a couple of ax handles, samples of his own make, for some of our professioal wood-choppers. The C. & E. I. carpenters are building a new water tank at the coal chutes south of here. Cal Burroughs has joined their ranks and will work with them indefinitely. The chances for a peach crop in these parts in the next three or four years is without doubt all off, as the trees that were old enough to bear are all dead. So there will have to be another set of trees raised before there will be any peaches. The prospects, for other fruit can not be ascertained at this writing. Farm Wiseman’s sale, w’hich took place March 2, was attended by a large crowd and the property sold at good prices. Farm implements sold exceptionally high, and old seed corn, it is said, brought sls per bushel. Farm is one of our best farmers and will no doubt make good in the new country, Montana, I where he has purchased a good sized farm. Well, we have the bluebird with us this week, and the robin, while she has been here for several weeks, had not been able to get her vocal organs in working order until Sunday morning, when she w r as seen and heard from the top of a tall tree, warbling the sapie old tune she dwelt on so faithfully last year. And even a few stray frogs have ventured to chirp out a few notes, but are a little shy yet, a good thought, as we are looking for a good deal of March weather in the j next few weeks. I JACKSON TOWNSHIP, NEWTON COUNTY Well, they are here—the robin j and the bluebird. i. Good seed corn is selling readily at $5 a bushel. Scarlet fever prevails at Morocco and, we are told, at Brook also. I No matter about the looks of that seed corn tester so long as it does the work. Saturday, March 23, is the date set for the annual spelling contest in Newton. county. j Romie Stucker of Gilead, Indiana, was here last week rounding up a carload of horses. Albert Anderson moved to his new home in Colfax township the latter part of last week. | Lloyd Deardurff of this township and Caroline Sandmeyer of Goodland were married recently. I After all, the only real, dyed-in-the wool, blown-ln-the-bottle sign of spring, is the bare-foot boy. ! John Anderson, who has been a tenant on one of the Schanlaub farms for the last fourteen years,

has moved to his own little farm just north of North Star. Son, start a war -garden this spring. It will be good, healthy sport, and besides you will be helping to lick the kaiser. Wheat, as a rule, is quite promising, and, with favorable weather from now on, we may look forward to at least a fair crop. Tell the average ‘war kicker’’ that Babylon has fallen and then stand aside and hear him cuss Secretary of War Baker for not rushing more men to the west front. David Fagan, formerly of this township, died at his home in Chicago last Tuesday morning. The remains were brought here for burial and were laid to rest in North Star cemetery. One of the depressing features of the coming political campaign, no doubt, will be a revelation of the fact that this country has quite a sprinkling of politicians who are “in” the present war for politics only. Honest Abe, the carrier, is demonstrating his loyalty by selling war stamps. When Abraham falls upon your neck and depicts the horrors of a Hun invasion you just cave right in and proceed at once to dig for the price of a few stamps. Oh, yes, spring is getting here gradually. Wild ducks are seen now quite frequently, the song of the lambkin floats down from the hillside and the odor of burning leaves and over-ripe boots, like a sweet incense, pervades the atmosphere. Hearst, of th© Hearst newspapers, has found something strictly new and original to beef about—the "yellow peril.” But, say, have you noticed any symptoms of worry on the part of Hearst over the Hun peril. Speak up, now, and answer clear and distinct. One of the many reasons why Washington is still first in the hearts of his countrymen is that he died before they had a chance to get tired of him. This example, we reg re t_ to say, _is top generally tgnored by American statesmen of the present day and age. Bernard J. Beckwith, son of Mr. and Mrs. William H. H. Beckwith of McClellan township, is reported as ’having been wounded in a recent battle in France. Young Beckwith is the first Newton county boy wounded in this war and, happily, his injuries are said to be slight. Up to a few days ago Clarence Blankenbaker figured that he had twenty bushels of good seed corn, but after examining same, he asserts that possibly he may have a peck. Such reports are heard almost daily. Many farmers think they have good seed corn until they com© to examine it. In our journeying up and down this earth we have met men who could whittle a chain out of a solid piece of pine wood, throw their thumbs out of place at will, balance a turkey feather on their nose, draw their bowels up into their stomach, wiggle their ears, neigh like a horse, crow like a rooster, and still their wives took in washing. Farm hands no longer receive wages—it’s a salary now, and there is nothing small about it either. As an example, Frank Sargent hired to William Herron the other day for S4O a month, gets a good house free of rent, a garden for his own use, the privileges of raising poultry, and a fat hog ready to put into the barrel. A Chicago paper states that farmers are offering school boys, without’any farm experience, $35 a month for spring work and SSO a month during the summer.

Why not try some of the following forms of punishment on the German spy: Make him stand on one foot two minutes and a half without food or drink. Make him sit with the girls. Make him recite “Curfew shall not ring tonight” five times in quick succession. Take his tobacco away from him. Lock him up in a dark room or make him go to bed without his supper. If none of these good, old-time punishments do the work something more severe might be tried, such, for instance, as wheeling a barrow of old shoes once around the city square or forcing him to stand on a street corner and sing “Fifteen men on the dead man's chest—Yo-ho, and a bottle of rum.”

Once upon a time —this happened ' a long time ago—Tobe Bascum of j northern Newton county, a. mighty hunter, was out looking for a stray I cow when he chanced across a hoi-1 low tree, which, to his experienced eye showed signs of containing a coon. Subsequent developments proved that it did contain a coon, a fact which resulted in no little pain and humiliation for the said Tobe. "The holler was V-shaped,’’ said Tobe in narrating the Incident, “and looked big nuff fer a bear ter crawl inter. I cltm up to it, and, not bein’ able to see nothin’ from the outside, I rams my head in clean up to my choulders and asts .sort of perlite like if they was anybody to hum. Jest as I spotted the varmint my foot, slipped off of the knot thet I was \bearin’ the heft of my weight on and down I goes, with my head wedged inter thet hole es tight/as a ox in a yoke. I tried time and ag’in to git back on to that knot, but I couldn’t nohow, and this scairt me like blue blazes and I commenced to beller like a ca’f. Purty soon I felt sompiri cold teph me under the chin, and what do you think it was? Blamed es it wan’t thet coon pokin’ its noce ag’in my neck, es es lookin’ fer a likely place to begin ’nawin’. Say, boys, es you could a hearn me yell then you’d a swore thet I’d jist been foolin’ fore thet. By gemeny whiz, I talked to thet coon like a Dutch uncle—called it all the purty names I could think of, anfl it nosin’ around my Adam’s

apple all the while, ’cept when it wan’t whisperin’ its dumd lingo inter my ear. By'n by the coon ’ r’ard up on its hind laigs and looked me in the face sort of accusin’ like, ahd, fore I tuk time to think, | I up and darn fool like, squirts a stream of tobacker juice slap in the critter’s eye. Maybe they wan’t sompin doin’ then. Thet coon jist nachly tore the hull Inside out’n the tree and then it sot in to clim’in’ my face, and dumd es it didn’t fee] like it was clawin* the count’nance clean off'n me. Judis, how it hirt. Wai, thet critter squoze out over my head, rakin’ off hair and hide e s it went, and after promenadin’ round on my shoulders fer a spell, it drapped to the ground and I could hear it tearin’ th’u the bresh like a scairt houn’. Wai, the upshot of it was. Punch Hawkins, who was goin’ over to his pap’s to borry a piece of midiin’s, see me hengin l in thet blamed hole and he got me out’n thar purty prompt, and I wasn’t hirt so bad after all. But. dumd es it wan’t all Punch could do to keep me fru mkissin’ him, I wus thet tickled at gittin’ out of the worst scrape I wus ever in.” The Kentland Enterprise comments in a rather sarcastic vein on an item which recently appeared in a Lake county paper, relative to the large number of fish in the Kankakee river. The Lake county paper, if we remember correctly, testified that along in February fish came out of the bayous into the rive? in such vast numbers that the ice was bulged up two feet and, a half, or words to that effect. Now. Brother Davis of the Enterprise is

a good editor and all that. In -fact, when it comes to handing out an appetizing line of political fodder; to the emaciated and sorely tried j Republican elephant, Davis holds, an advanced position on a sixteen- • mile front, but his knowledge of fish appears to have beepgleaned j from ponds and open ditches. Old timers will tell you that fish, like the heaten Chinee, are peculiar. They are here by the thousands today and by tomorrow they will have cleared out for parts unknown, even down to the last miserable dogfish. This explains why a man armed with a thirty-cent rod and line, a cob pipe and a pint of Gladstone bitters, will catch a barrel of fish at a certain spot before breakfast, and then turn right around and fish at the same place off and on for a month without getting a

nibble. Therefore, we see nothing to wax hilarious over in the Lake county editor’s statement. Even had he asserted that the ice waa hove up two feet and eight inchea Brother Davis should have accepted the story without a questioning word—glad that fish were so plentiful — instead of becoming' peevish because a brother editor chanced to make an important scoop. And, speaking of fish, we are reminded of the day when we stood on the beach at Beaver lake and witnessed the greatest collection of mixed fish that it has ever been our privilege to see. By the way, we could prove this story if our old friend Cy Haney, was here, but, as he >lsn t, we shall proceed without him. You see, it happened like this: A stiff wind arose suddenTy, blowing directly from the south. The action of the wind carried the water out on the flat beach for a quarter of a mile, holding It there for more than an hour. The gale then as suddenly shifted and blew straight down from the north, driving the water back within its natural boundary and revealing a sight not often vouchsafed tot the American sportsman of the present day. The beach where the had stood was covered with fish to a depth of a foot—pickerel, bass, catfish, buffalo and suckers, rolled and tumbled in a fruitless effort to regain the water. Fully 5,000 tons of fish were destroyed there on this occasion, not counting the fine bass which we carried away. Dear reader, you will no doubt smile at our seeming weakness, but at sight of this wholesale destruction of good food we broke down and cried like a child.