Nappanee Advance-News, Volume 17, Number 3, Nappanee, Elkhart County, 3 April 1895 — Page 3

HOW GRANDMA DANCED. Grandma told mo ail about It; Told me so I couldn’t doubt It; How she danced—my grandma danced— Long ago; How she held her pretty head; How her dainty skirts she spread; How she turned her little toes—- . Smiling little human rose! Long ago. "Grandma's hair was bright and sunny; Dimpled cheeks, too—ah, how funny! Really quite a pretty-girl, Long ago. Bless her! Why, she wears a Grandma does—and take3 a nap Every single day; and yet -Grandma danced thejninuet Long ago. Now'she sits there rocking, rocking, * Always knitting grandpa’s stocking, <Every girl was taught to knit Long ago). Yet her figure is so neat, X can almost see her now j. Bending to her partner's bow, Long ago. •Grandma says our modern jumping, Hopping, rushing, whirling, bumping, Would have shocked the gentle folk Long ago. No; they moved with stately grace; Everything in pro Der place; Gliding slowly forward, then. Slowly courtesying, back again, Long ago. Modern ways are quite alarming, Grandma jsays; but boys were charming Girls and boys, I mean, of course—g Long ago. Bravely modest, grandly shy— What if all of us should try Just to feci like those who met In their graceful minuet, Long ago? With the minuet in fashion, ' ‘ Who could fly into a passion? Alt would the cajrn they wore Long ago. In time to come, if I. perchance, Should tell my grandchild of our danoe, I should really like to say: “ We did, dear, in some such way, Long ago.” r-N. Y. Ledger.

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A Revelation of tho Romantic and Re* markable Career of I.awrcnce Bangs. the Famous Yale Athlete. BY HOWARD FIELIDIfiO. - Copyright, ,Bqr CHAPTER VL.— Continued^ That hurt a little, hut Lawrence •tilled his jealousy of Paddy, remembering how much the lad had done for him. .“Patrick,” he said, solemnly, when he had rejoined that phenomenal youth at home, “I wish you to exercise all possible caution to-morrow. I have much at stake on the fame,” “Well, the mon is as good as your own stuff right now,” said Paddy, stretching’ out his right hand perfectly flat, with the palm down, and about on a level with his waist. “They ain’t goiu’ to be in it, see?” And then came the first Harvard game. Oh, it was a slaughter! Three* hits and one of these a scratch. Only one red-legged mao on third base in the whole game and he died there. Fifteen men struck out, and Paddy brought in the first two runs for Yale with a three bagger in right field in the third inning, and scored himself a few seconds later amid cheers that l ent the sky. Lawrence, absorbed in study, sat in his room. The time passed more quickly than he knew. Suddenly he heard a sound as if pandemonium had slipped its cable and was drifting down on him. He peered out ’between the blinds. The street was filling with people. A street band which had been picked up by the way came marching along, its seven members playing every one his own tune in the key that suited him best. And behind the hand came Paddy, borne upon the shoulders of a yelling mob of enthusiasts. He escaped from them some way, and ran into the house. “We did ’em up,” he said to Lawrence. “They were easy fruit.” “And you distinguished yourself, no doubt?” “I guess 1 did. near those gillies howlin’ outside. I like it all right, but

PADDY COMES DOME. I’m dead tired now. Go out and take your turn at it.” So Lawrence went to the door after sufficient interval, and st&od on the steps a moment, looking out over the .great crowd on the street; ~~ “Now, all together!” yelled some •one; “a triple round for Larry Bangs!” The cheers rattled the windows. Then a score of students swept down on Lawrence and carried him away. He was like a man in a dream. The Illusion overpowered him. He tasted the sweet savor of popularity, and forgot that it was not really his. He •waved his hat to~th<Tcrowd with the •air of a conqueror, and all the fellows cried with one voice: 05 “B-A-N-G-S! BANGS!!” CHAPTER VII. AS OBJECT OF ADMIRATION. Lawrence, borne above the crowd, •yielded himself absolutely to the intoxication of popularity, ne was the biggest man in New Haven for an hour at least, and he thoroughly enjoyed the sensation. The route of his tri•umphal procession chanced to take Ihlm by the house where Florence

lived, end she was standing on the steps, surrounded by a dozen other girls, when he passed. There was a shrill chorus of applause, and all the girls waved handkerchiefs. Florence was so proud of him that the tears came into her eyes. She felt very small and unimportant to be the sweetheart of so distinguished a man. It seemed to her that many of the other girls looked more worthy of the honor. They were tall and queenly, while she was only five feet four in high-heeled shoes. And then she remembered that her persuasion had made what he was. But for her he might never have been famous. And with that thought she became so tall that she could look over the heads of all the other girls and see what was going on as well as if they hadn’t been there. Lawrence was forced to leave his admirers soon and go to the training table for dinner. It is well known that the athletes at the principal colleges eat food especially prepared for them and prescribed by the highest medical authority. In spite of this fact many of them are quite well, but Lawrence was not of that number. Perhaps his digestive machinery was not naturally strong enough to stand the strain of eating, as one might say, under the eye of a physician. At any rate, he had not been well since his first encounter with a scientifically regulated diet. It may have been a twinge of dyspepsia which turned his thoughts out of , the pleasant channel in which they had been running, and made him feel dissatisfied with the world as he arose from the table. To him, just then, -Florence was the world, so he became dissatisfied with her. He had seen the light in her eyes, the glow on her cheeks, the ecstasy of pride when he went by. All this came back to him, and not pleasantly. “She is in love with Paddy O’Toole,” said Lawrence, in his heart. “It is disgraceful.” Now everybody will readily admit that if such was the truth, Paddy had a great deal more right to complain than Lawrence had. Yet is very hard to satisfy a young man when he is in love, and Lawrence became wildly jealous of Paddy, who had never met Florence, and in the natural course of events never would. However, there was some justification for Lawrence's feeling, for he had not been able in the course of his acquaintance with Florence to make her take a deep and abiding interest in anything which had really been achieved by himself. She knew every curve in Paddy’s remarkably extensive repertory, but she cduld not remember from one day to the next so much as the names of the studies in which Lawrence most notably excelled his competitors. He resolved that she should love him for his intellect, for those commanding mental powers which made easy grist of conic sections and such hard things. “We will not discuss baseball this evening,” said he to himself, very firmly. “We will converse upon more serious topics.” He was, by this time, on his way to call upon Florence. There was a kiss due Ipm, as the reader may remember, for the Harvard game had been won—by Paddy O’Toole. Lawrence resolved not to take the kiss nor even mention it. He would lay before her the treasures of his mind, and captivate her with his knowledge. To this plan he scrupulously adhered; and Florence had never thought him dull before. She had looked forward to the interview with feelings of the liveliest joy, and the result was a bitter disappointment. She was offended that he did not claim his reward at once. But he scorned to do it, for he felt that the prize had been won by his hated rival. He would not approach the subject. Instead he opened out to her the treasure house of his mind, which was really not bad for a freshman. The result was that by half-past eight o’clock , she was not only angry ,but bored; by half-past nine they had quarreled; and at ten, Lawrence took his leave, without having mended matters at all in the last half hour, and without having secured his own kiss or the one that belonged to Paddy. This was only the beginning of bitterness. There was another game of hall a few days later, and Paddy again distinguished himself. He shut out Amherst without a hit, and Amherst was supposed to have a strong hatting nine that year. But Paddy was too good for anybody’s nine that day, and the visitors merely fanned the air one after another. Paddy’s work was justly regarded as the very finest article of ball playing that had ever been seen in New Haven, and the vast crowd simply went wild over him. Florence, who had considered herself estranged from him, shed tears of penitence. She wanted to he forgiven rightaway. So with a great company of her girl friends, and some men to give them countenance, she waylaid Paddy O’Toole as he was once more being borne away in triumph, and fairjy captured him from the hands of his admirers. Harry Bangs, who had been hovering on the outskirts of the crowd, viewed this scene with the blackest dismay. He had deadly fear that in the presence of so much loveliness baddy’s tongue might be unloosed. The young man had developed some signs of that gallantry which distinguishes the Irish race. On one occasion when he had been more heartily applauded than usual by a bevy of girls in the grand stand, he had horrified Bangs by throwing a kiss to them in the most courtly style known to the chivalry of the South Cove. Happily his gesture had been mistaken for a private signal to the catcher, and the incident had escaped remark. 0 In this case, however, the provocation was more pressing and Immediate. The girlk surrounded Paddy, and gazed upon him as if he had been an inspired prophet. Contrary to all the traditions of their sex, they remained silent, waiting for him to say something that could afterwards he remembered. But Harry Bangs had wronged Paddy in thinking that the gifted youth would be false to the oath

► which bound him to yes and no. He remembered it even in that moment of temptation. A less gifted person than Paddy might have found it difficult to open a conversation with either of the words which he was permitted to use. But the problem was very simple to Paddy. Having no ideas to express he had little need of language. His beaming countenance showed sufficiently well the delight he felt in the presence of these lovely young creatures. He surveyed them for some seconds in silence, and then said “Yes,” in a most charming manner and with a slightly rising inflection. The use of this word in an Interrogative sense was a habit with Lawrence, and Paddy who had more imitative faculty than a cage full of monkeyß, had caught it exactly. That word and the smile of benign condescension which accompanied it were all that the girls required. From that instant the conversation was theirs. They showered upon Paddy the expressions of their admiration; they loaded him with questions regarding the technical points of the game; they made him the umpire of their little disputes about the various points of play. And Paddy with admirable politeness replied yes or no, as the occasion seemed to demand, and as a judge he achieved a success never attained by the good Haroun al Easchid, for he made each party to a controversy believe that he had given a decision in her favor. It may he that they afterwards remembered only what they themselves had said. To do that is a charming peculiarity of the gentler sex, when it remembers anything at all of a conversation.' Some of the nice things that were said on this occasion the girls rightly credited to themselves, hut a generous half was transferred to Paddy’s account. The general verdict was admirably rendered by Florence. “O, isn’t he just too clever!” she cried. “It's no wonder he can pitch ball. He does it with his head. My brother says so. Isn’t that true, Mr. Bangs?” “Yes,” said Paddy, gravely, and he was applauded to the echo as Harry Bangs led him away. V”‘Say,” whispered Paddy, when they were out of hearing, “am I all right? Am I solid with the ladies? Well, I

“YES,” SAID PADDY. guess! Did you ever see the likes of me before?” Bangs wiped the cold perspiration off his forehead. “No, I never did,” he replied. “You’re a wonder, that’s what you are. I said so the first time I ever saw you.” Florence went home and wrote a sweet little note. She sent it by a trusty messeng&k aged ten, whose secrecy could be purchased with candy of an inferior grade. Lawrence received the note in due course, and he read as follows: “I was wrong when we quarreled. I have regretted it ever since. But you were not yourself that evening. Doubtless your studies were worrying you. I should have made allowances. To-day I have seen your true self, and I admire you.” The words “true self” were underlined once and “admire.” three times. “She admires Paddy O Toole,” muttered Lawrence with a groan. “I suppose she thinks he’s a ‘wonder,’ as my brother says. Well, he is a wonder. He is the only one of his kind ever born without a candal appendage. He is an

“BE YOUB OWN TRUE SELF,” SAID FLORENCE. anthropoid. And Florence admires him.” Lawrence buried his face in his hands and ground his teeth withrage. CHAPTER VIII. GROWING APART. ■ “Larry.”, said his brother one morning, “we’ll have to do something for you. You’re falling behind.” “Falling behind whom?” asked Lawrence. . “The other half of you; the half that is good for something.” “You mean Patrick.” “Os course.” Lawrence struggled to be calm. “Granting for the sake of argument,” he said at last, “that it is pqssible to be inferior to such a creature, I will ask you in what respect you think me to he deficient." “Why, you’re out of condition. You look overtrained. You’re ten pounds under weight, and it shows in your face. You’re pale as a ghost, my boy.” “I fear,” said Lawrence, thoughtfully, “that there is some truth In what you say. The difference in our ways of life has done much to decrease that unfortunate resemblance which— ■" "Unfortunate,” echoed his brother. “It was the greatest piece of luck that,

ever happened to Yale. What do you think of the Harvard game?” -‘I am trying not to thiiik of it at all,” sighed Lawrence. “Well, I tell you it’s worth thinking about. The Harvard team was made np of nine sluggers from Slugtown, and if anybody but Paddy had been in the box they’d have batted the hall all over the state of Connecticut. You ought to be proud of that game, Larry. It was a big thing for Yale, and it couldn’t have been done without you. Now, we can’t take any risks. At any cost of money or comfort we must preserve your resmblance to Paddy. I’ve thought that all out, and I’ll tell you what you must do."/ He proceeded to outline' his plan. In the first place Lawrence was to stndy in future on the roof of the house during the day time. “I’ve found a nice hot corner up there for you,” said Harry. “You’ll have a southern exposure and a chimney be-

EXERCISE AND STUDY COMBINED. | hind you that gets pretty warm, I believe, in the middle of the daywheh the sun’s on it. Nobody can see you up j there and you can lay on all the color you need.” Lawrence groaned. “Then you must take a lot of exercise,” continued Harry. “Paddy is filling out a good deal, and you'll have to keep up with him.” “But my dear brother,” Lawrence replied, “I can’t find time for all this, i The over-indulgence in physical exer- j cise which you recommend will encroach upon my hours of study.” “Can’t you study and exercise at the same time? Get some light dumb bells and swing them while you're grinding Greek. Then you Won’t be j wasting your time altogether with the ; blasted stuff. And, besides, you may . develop. There’s no telling. If you were a little heavier you’d he an ideal man for football.” Lawrence brightened at this last remark and Harry took it for a hopeful sign. I [TO BE CONTINUED.] - ■ ' ■ ~ A TRUE PATRIOT. Jean Victor Duruy Served Hi:* Country Wherever Duty Called Him. The fame of Jean Victor Duruy will probably last longest in connection with the historical works whittle ha wrote, hut many of the French prfople of his own era who will never read hi* histories will recall him best as minis- | ter of public instruction under the empire and in various public capacities later, says Kate Field’s Washington. One of his favorite amusements as min- : lster was to go about in a very plain ! costume and with a'most unpretentious manner and visit the schools to see ! whether the teachers were dealing right with the pupils and treating the parents with proper respect. This gave him in some quarters the playful nick- i name of “Al-Raschid Duruy.” He was above everything a patriot and deemed j no duty too mean if it were done for his country. Once, during the siege of Paris, Jules Simon, who had been min- | ister of public instruction under the j revolutionary government, was going | home at night, when he noticed that i the common soldier who was doing sentry duty at his door wore a bit of red ribbon—-the insignia of the Legion of Honor—in the buttonhole of his overcoat. This struck Simon as strange, ■ and, calling the soldier to him, he was astonished to discover that it was his distinguished predecessor in office. “What!” he exclaimed. • “Duruy, la It really you?” i “Assuredly.” “And only a private?” “Well, what would you?” answered the other, with a philosophical shrug '■ of the shoulders. “One cannot be al- i ways minister.” 0 HER PROUD BOAST. Ponte* and liable* Were Not In It with Anntle. Marjorie had just returned from a visit to the old homestead in Tennessee, where a colored nurse nearly • hundred years old was still a treasured inmate. It puzzled her that Chloe should be called “auntie” by her mother and the family, but at last she accepted the fact and did likewise. Het playmates, trooping in to welcome her home, began to enumerate their possessions acquired during her absence: “I’ye got a black pony,” crowed Charlie exultantly. “I’ve got anew baby-brother,” cried Jessie. “H’m! 'that’s nothing I’ve got two of ’em,” retorted Fred. * Marjorie’s eyes flashed. “Oh!” she cried, "l’ve got a heap more’n that| I’ve got an auntie as old as Mefusela and black as tar.”—Judge. Had Him That Time. There were two old Jews, Isaacstein and Einstein, who were very close friends. One night Isaacstein had a dream. An angel came to him and said that any one thing he wished j for he could have, but that whatever it was, his friend Einstein would get twice j /as much. “Vat,” said Isaacstein to the angel, “Iv I vish for dwo' million dollars viP i Einstein ged vour million?” / “Yes,” was the reply. “Und iv I vish for a Unided Sdade* vill Einstein ged dwo Uniusd Sdades?" "Yes.” “Um—um—veil, mage me blind In voa j Oja.”— Buffalo Enquirer.

FARM AND GARDEN. THE PLEBEIAN PEANUT. It Plays Useful Port in the Eoonoiqy of Man and Beast. The plebeian peanut, which rejoices in snch other homely names as earthnut, groundnut, ground pea, goober and pindar, has assumed anew dignity, having recently been honored as the subject of a special report by one of the experiment officers of the national department of agriculture. The report corrects some prevalent mistakes as to this little article of consumption, gives astonishing statistics as to its value as a food product, and presents many interesting facts as to its uses. It is pleasant to be informed, first of •11, that the peanut is not a nut at aU, but a pea, and that its shell is not a shell, but a pod. It is also well to know that while cotton, Indian corn, potatoes and tobacco have usually been considered the four plants of commercial importance which America has given to the world, the peanut must he added, as the weight of authority .fixes its birthplace in Brazil. The erop has become of primary importance since 1860, and Virginia, North Carolina and Tennessee produce the largest part of it. There are seven varieties cultivated, some of them bunch and some running vines. The yield of this underground pea is astonishing, and the amount- consumed is a testimonial to its popularity/ The yearly production here is about 4,000,000 budhels of 23 pounds, which supply the present demand in this country. This, however, is but a small portion of the world's crop. The exportation from Africa and India to Europe in 1893 amounted to nearly 400,000,000 pounds. The crop of the world may be safely estimated at 600,000,000 pounds. The value of the homely little ground pea, however, becomes especially apparent when its uses are considered. It is sorted in the factory into four grades, the first, second and third being sold to venders of the roasted peanut, either directly or through jobbing houses. The fourth grade is sold to confectioners, and after their manipulation reappears as peanut candy, burnt almonds and in elfbaper grades of chocolates. The repor/says in this connection: “The extent pt the use of the peanut by the Ajjrferiean people will be more fully appreciated when it is remembered that they use 4,000.000 bushels of nuts yearly (at a cost to the consumers of §10.000,000), which do not form a part of the regular articles of food hut are eaten at odd times.” The planter uses the nut as a fattener for his hogs and the vine as peanut hay for his stock, and the feeding value is increased when some of the nuts are cured and fed with the hay. Millions of bushels are used in the old world for the production of oil, which is regarded as equal to olive oil. In fact, great quantities are used, unknown to the consumer, Instead of the latter, Marseilles alone taking 220,000,000 pounds a year for the making of alleged olive oil. In India, Europe, Brazil and this country the oil is used medieiually. It is employed by manufacturers in fulling cloth. It makes a good lighting fluid, and is largely used by the manufacturers of soap and as a lubricant in machine shops. The oil cake is used in Germany for fattening cattle and sheep. It is pronounced an excellent cattle food. A grade known as “peanut meal” is made by grinding the hulls, immature peanuts, and those of inferior grades and a certain quantity of sound nuts mixed with other ingredients. The residue, known as “peanut cake,” makes good soup, griddle cakes, muffins, etc., and is one of the most nutritive foods for human as well as animal consumption. The report says: “Although the experiment made with peanut meal and biscuits as food for the German army was not so successful as to induce the authorities to adopt it as a part of the rations, still analysis has shown conclusively that it is a most nourishing food for man, and as compared with other well-known forms of vegetable and animal food it has a high nutritive value.” From all of which it appears that this little nut or pea, which hitherto has be.en looked down upon as the stock in trade of the street corner vender, the food of the gallery god, and the luxury of the circus, has other and higher uses and is one of the important staples of commerce and plays a dignified and useful part in the economy of man and beast. —Chicago Tribune. TIGHTENING FENCES. A Pennsylvanian's Easy Way of Drawing Wire* Taut. Wire fences are frequently difficult to tighten. Edjyin G. Walker, of Butler county, Pa., sends the plan below,

—jn & A ‘£ = h —— ■ ■ ■ 31k WIRES DRAWN TAUT.

which he uses successfully. Seta post, a, in the fence line of any desired length and stretch as many strands of wire as wanted. Unreel the strands to within a loot of the post and fasten securely to a 2x4 scantling (b). Two long bolts, c, o, of 2>{ feet or thereabouts, with long threads and burrs, are placed through the center of the post The scantling may be kept in place by resting on blocks. After the strands are securely fastened to the scantlings, with wrench twist the

bolt and draw the wires tight Tml sections may thus be tightened at thi same time, but numerous sections cannot be tightened as readily, as tho strain is taken up along the line and; the tension equally distributed unleae tightened sections are held and then nailed. —Farm and Home. STANCHIONS FOR COWS. Maktnar Dairy Animal*. Comfortable a*C Keeping Them Clean. Clean cows aDd comfortable cows—the two factors go together in making the dairy business pro able. I have worked hard to keep cows clean in their stalls, but could never succeed until I had them hitched on a platform at least eight inches above the bottom of the gutter, and arranged so that, their hind feet would come just at the rear edge of the platform. Then no manure faUs upon the platform and the cow is always dry and clean. It requires some skill, however, to so arrange the cows as to stanchions, or ties, that they will stand naturaUy, and for most of the time, with their hind feet just at the rear edge of the platform. The upright stanchions wiU accomplish this, and where they are made to swing from side to side they allow considerable freedom of move-

ment to the cows, but at the best they Are not wholly comfortable, and to do her best a dairy cow must at all times be comfortable. There is another plan which is shown in the accompanying illustration. The cows are hitched with 'chains that slide up and down upon a rod, two cows in each < wide stall, or one in a narrow stall as preferred. There is a solid partition between the stalls and the cribs, a hinged door admitting’ the head of each cow to her crib at feeding time. When the ration has been eaten the doors are closed dud buttoned, which forces the cows to stand back until their hind feet come to s the edge of the gutter, and to lie down also in that situation. When the doors are closed any manure that has fallen upon the platform while the cows have been standing ahead feeding is scraped into the gutter, and the cows left until the next feeding. Where the manure cellar is under the cattle it will be found most convenient to have the manure traps in the raised walk, as shown, rather than in the bottom of the gutter, where they are buried beneath the manure and filthy to handle. Handy shelves that are hinged and folded against the wall when not in use are shown at the rear of the raised walk. The doors admitting the cows’ heads to the cribs in front will be found exceedingly convenient when feeding grain, roots or ensilage. One can then put the ration in the crib without molestation from the horns or nose of the animal, eager to get at its breakfast or dinner. The door can then be unbuttoned and allowed to swing in against the side of the crib, when the cow can come forward and eat,. The crib can be made to fold down against the outside of the partition if more room is desired at any time in the feeding floor.— American Farm Journal. GARDEN AND ORCHARD. Poultby for the plum and hogs for the apple orchard. I Trees .should never crowd one another in the orchard. Make the garden long enough to work handily with a team. In pruning remember that diseased wood will never become sound , Annual manuring of the orchard will help in securing annual crops of fruit. A tree that has plenty of room to grow naturally needs very little trimming. If a tree makes a slow growth it is advisable to cut back the shoots a little in the spring. Sunlight is absolutely necessary to the health and growth of the tree and the production of good fruit. IT is a mistake to set trees in or around the garden. The vegetables need all light and sunshine possible. More benefit will be derived from burying bones near grape vines, if care is taken to break them up fine before putting them in the ground One of the best and easiest ways of propagating currants is by using wood of last season’s growth cut into pieces six or eight inches long.—St. Louis Republic. VALUABLE VEGETABLE. A Description or Endive, and When and Bow to Grow It. What is endive and how is it grown? we are asked. Its leaves make a splendid salad when properly blanched, and one that is very useful, as it comes in after lettuce is gone. It may be grown at any season, but is usually grown for use late in the fall. For an early crop sow in April, in drills-J5 inches apart, and later on thin out to IS inches in the rows. It can also be sown in beds and transplanted to the above distance after attaining sufficient size. The main sowings are made in Jane and July. Ordinary good soil and cultivation is all it requires When nearly fullgrown it is blanched in the following manner: Gather up She leaves and tie them by their tips in a conical form, thereby excluding the light and air from their inner leaves, which then blanch to a beautiful yellowish white. This process takes two to five weeks, according to the temperature, bleaching fastest in warm weather. Another method is to lay clean boards right over the plants which excludes the air and light. Tie up at different times as it only keeps a short time after blanching. For winter use take up with earth and store in frames or a dry ’cellar. One ounoe sows 100 feet of drill.—Farmers’ Volos,