Jasper County Democrat, Volume 22, Number 34, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 26 July 1919 — HAPPLNINGS IN OUR NEIGHBORING VILLAGES [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

HAPPLNINGS IN OUR NEIGHBORING VILLAGES

JACKSON TP., NEWTON COUNTY Dr. C. E. Triplett of Morocco is taking treatment at a Chicago hospital. It Is dry and this doesn’t refer to the prohibition amendment either. The world has reached that stage, it would seem, where human happiness Is governed largely by the condition of the Inner tube. When It comes to stirring up intestinal wars even Dutch Bill will have to acknowledge the superiority of the lowly roasting ear. The good housewife will have to hustle this year to find fillin’ for those cans. Even that old standby, the blackberry crop, will be short. The weather for harvesting has been pleasant most of the time this season, there being little of the extreme heat which usually comes with this line of work. Mrs. Ben Geesa of Colfax township, whose son George went to France early In the war and who was killed In action July 19, 1918, was advised of his death only just recently. Mrs. Christine Robinson, who had been In failing health for the last two years, died at her home in this township last Saturday night at the age of about 60 years. She leaves a family of four children, all grown. Wheat threshing began generally the first of the week. As the writer predicted early in the spring, the yield will be light, probably an average of 20 bushels an acre. The oats yield will be much below that of last year. If we owned Warnie McCray’s farm and bunch of Herefords we just naturally wouldn’t waste time over a little office like that of governor. No, sir; we’d just hang

around the old place and gloat over our possessions. Nocturnal prowlers of the biped species will kindly beware. An organization has been effected in tnis township, the duty and pleasure of which, as we understand it, will be the suppression of thievery generally and chicken thievery in particular. And then, too, when you are depressed, discouraged and Just about ieady to give up the fight, it helps some to recall the words of Giles Hoggett in “The Last Chronicle of Barset” —"Tell 'ee what, Master Crowley, there ain’t nowt a man can’t bear if he’ll only be dogged.” It takes children to say cute things. A little boy in this neighborhood was explaining the -mechanism of the automobile the other day and when he came to the emergency brake remarked: “This, now, is what we call the ‘mercy’ brake. We use it when we don’t want to run over people.” Wayne Blankenbaker, 8 years old, shows strong symptoms of some day becoming a cold, unfeeling millionaire. He planted a corner of the garden this year much in advance of the usual time for planting, and now he is selling “mom” green goods from that plot of ground at almost prohibitive prices—cash in A farmer, not a hundred miles from here, we are told, threw broken bottles into his stock tank in order to discourage the boys of the neighborhood from using It as a bathing pool. The boys naturally felt hurt over the matter, so much so that they forgot (?) to bhut the farmer’s gate and as a result cattie got into the field and destroyed about an acre of corn, and this ends chapter the first. Ever meet the second white child born in the county? We have — met him last Tuesday on the rag-

ing Kankakee. We were in a desperate hurry, being billed for Water Valley, Shelby, Cedar Lake and points further north, but he held on and would not be denied fintil we had heard the story of his life. Later, while the chauffeur was giving "Henry” a drink the "second white child” drew up alongside and in a 2% alcoholic voice told us about it again—this time with a wealth of detail. When we left him he was drawing a diagram in the sand, showing the spot where he and Bige Fullenwater killed the last bear seen in northern Indiana. We have been told frequently and oft that in the early days, when people heard the gospel preached only on occasions when the circuit rider could swin the river or cross the mountain, everybody was honest —that a pioneer could leave a dressed hog hanging out and go to bed tflth the calm assurance that said porker would be there io the morning; in short, that a decent respect for the rights of others was the rule everywhere. “Well, what are you driving at,” do you ask? Nothing, nothing, only this matter occurred to us the other evening after being tbld about that meeting to devise ways and means for the suppression of thievery in this locality, In this day and age. with all of our so-called advancement, with all of our wealth, our costly churches, our sanes and minarets, and with culture and refinement rampant, as you might say.

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