Pike County Democrat, Volume 28, Number 25, Petersburg, Pike County, 29 October 1897 — Page 7

Sheftfu&MHJtgfUraorral BL McC. STOOPS. Editor MS Proprtrtw. PETERSBURG. INDIANA. i WOMAN’S SAD FACE n thos. r. wwTFoar. I HERE was a time, but a few years since, when the prairies of western isas were the scene of bitter rivalry between the rich cattlemen and the poor homeseekers. Naturally it was to 4he interest of the cattlemen to keep homeseekers out of the country, for so long as the land remained unsettled just'so long did it furnish rich, free pasturage for the great herds of cattle. In their efforts to keep the pioneer settlers from taking up claims and building homes the cattlemen very often went beyond the limit of the law. In fact, in many instances they ignored the laws altogether and were governed in their actions simply by their personal wishes and their power to enforce them. Out in Ness county there was a big cattle ranch owned by a wealthy syndicate. The manager of this ranch, a man by the name of Roberts, was one of the coldest blooded and most unfeeling wretches that ever lived. He caredJfcpr nothing save his own interests and ine interests of his employers. He was 4ead set against homeseekers, and no matter what their condition might be, j»or how much they were in the right, he never yielded an inch to them. The ranch comprised several hundred acres of the best government land in the county, and in time homeseekers began to hover about it and covet the rich prairie. But Roberta warned them to keep off. threatening to burn the wagon . and kill the horses of the first man who should attempt to enter a claim on the grazing lands of the ranch. He went further, and hired the toughest and most lawless set of cowboys he could find, and to them he gave instructions that they must keep the range clear of settlers, uo matter to what lengths they were forced to go in order to accomplish that end. The cowboys nodded knowingly, touched their pistols significantly and remarked that they were there to obey the boss* orders. Several attempts were made to enter claims on the range, but the cowboys were always promptly on hand to discourage anything of that sort, and after they had thrown out a few hints regarding the “unhealthiness*’ of the location, and the general advisability of seeking a home elsewhere, the would-be settler was petwuaded to move on. After awhile the character of Roberts* cowboys became notorious, and the homeseekers gave them and their range a wide berth. Thus for a long time the range was not bothered with settlers, and the cattle continued to graze the grass ant| turn it into money. Roberts saw the . lands all about him taken up for homes And he congratulated himself on his foresight atid-^his promptness to act in taking care of his own interest. Things had been going on in this even way for some months when one morning Roberts called his cowboys about him and said:

t nave recrivcu a iciier caning1 me •east, so I shall leave the ranch in your hands. I shall probably be away two or three weeks, but I think I can trust you boys to look after things all right. FI! gate Jake Kline the management of the ranch and I shall expect the rest of you to obey his orders. Keep the cattle together and keep those settlers off the range.” “We'll manage things all right. Mr. Roberts.” Jake said. “We'll take care of the cattle, and if you find any settler on this range when you get back he'll be a dead one.” Roberts had been gone about a week, when oue evening some of the cowboys saw an old covered wagon rolling slowly across the prairie behind a pair of •mall, scrawny mules. They watched the wagon and at last saw it stop at the foot of a little mound, right in the center of; their best grazing land. A man got out. unharnessed the mules and turned them loose to graze. Old Jake Kline's attention was called to the wagon and forthwith he sent a man to inform the owner of it that he must move on. This message waadelivered promptly, and with more force than elegance. The homeeeeker. however, received it quietly. not to say indifferently, and remark evl that he’d see about it. “You want to be seeing about it pretty sudden, then,” the cowboy said, “because we won't stand any foolishness. We'd just as ltev© make a bonfire of your wagon and coyote feed of your mules as not.” **I*l leave here when 1 get ready to go.” the man replied, “and not before.” The cowboy rode back and reported to old Jake. The latter's eyes flashed with anger in a moment and he swore • string of the most horrible oaths. “So the chap thinks he'll go w hen he geta ready, eh!” he cried “Maybe he will, but if he does, he'll get ready pretty soon, for I tell you he won't be long about going.” He then called his whole force and rode down to the wagon. The settler was sitting on the ground with his back against a wheel, his knees drawn up and his arms folded over them. His head was bowed down, and his whole *ttilude was that of the deepest dejection. The cowboys had approached to within a few steps of him before he heard them, and then he looked up - listlessly, but did not offer to move. Jake reined his horse and said: “Are you figuring on taking up a claim here, stranger?” “I reckon maybe,” the other answered, carelessly. “Don't you know you can't do it?”

’ -No." "Do you know whose ranch this i»t" "Yes." "Hove yon ever heard of Roberts? cowboys?” **YgbS* s “Well, we’re them." Jake ottered this in a way that was intended to stir the man with fear and dread, bnt he missed the effect. The man showed no interest whatever and merely grunted some unintelligible reply. After a short pause Jake said: "You’ll have to get out of here, and be blamed spry about it, too. We don’t allow any squatter on this land.” "Does this land belong to you?” the man asked, with a little interest. “ "No." "Doesn’t it belong to the government V" “I reckon so.” “Then what right have you to order me off?” "Maybe we have no right, but that has nothing to do with it. It’s our business to keep settlers off this range and we’ve got to do it. We’ve talked enough. Now hitch up and get.” The man arose to his feet, and firing up with life and animation said: “I’ll not go.” Old Jake was thunderstruck fora moment, and he sat looking at the man in silent astonishment. Finally, however, he cried: "What! Do you mean to defy me?" "1 do.” burn your wagon. We’ll kill ■your mules. If you cut up much we’ll kill you.” * "1 don’t doubt it. But burn and kill if you want to. What’s the difference. I’d better be dead than alive, anyhow. 1 left the east with my wife and child and came out here to take up land and build a home. What is the result? I’ve chased up and down this country in search of a claim, but I can get none except in some arid spot where nothing will grow. The good land is either all taken up. or held by the big cattlemen who have no right to it. 1 have been driven about by the cowboys till I am tired of it, and I am not goii^ to be driven any more. Through exposure and hardships my little child sickened and died, and now lies buried back yonder on the prairie: From the same causes, together with worry, my wife lies in this wagon now hovering between life and death. I have dragged her about till I can drag her no more. We have used up all our money and provisions and have nothing left. My wife will soon be dead, and if you kill me, all the better." The cowboys exchanged a look of inquiry, and then old Jake dismounted and walked up to the wagon and looked j in. lie gave one quick, searching glance, then strode back to his companions. They ail gathered eagerly about him, and fbr two or three minutes there was an earnest conversation carried on in low tones. Then old Jake turned again to the settler and addressed him, but this time he was not loud and boisterous. On the contrary, he was almost kind and sympathetic. "Stranger,” he began, “we have strict I orders from our boss to keep settlers I off this range, and 1 don’t see anything for us to do but obey. We’d lose our

-'W***' * ILL LEAVE HERE WHEN I GET READY TO Ga*' jobs in two minutes if we didn’t. So I reckon you’ll have to move on.” *‘I won’t go,” the settler announced, flatly. “1 reckon maybe we can persuade you to g- ’ “That means you will drive me. I know w hat kind of persuasion you cowboys use. It is guns and pistols.” “Sometimes we do use that kind of persuasion, but not in a case like this. Stranger, we’re tough, but we’re not heathens. We’ve chased many a homeseeker off government, land, but we never yet made war on a woman who looked like that one in there. We ars not brutes, and if we bad the say about this claim you could keep it. But we are under orders and we have no sayin the matter. You’ll have to leave the range. I see no help for that.” “I tell you 1 will not go.” **I reckon you will, if we make it all right for you. Now, just across the creek there you can buy a claim aa good as this for $100. It has a sod cabin on it, too, and a well. There’s five of us, and that means that we’ll put up $20 apiece to pay for that claim for you.” The settler stared at old Jake in astonishment. “What!" he gasped, “you’ll buy that daim. and give it to us?" "Sure. We’Te got to obey orders and keep this range clear, and I don’t know any other way for us to do it. We can’t act the fool and go to cutting up rough "with a man who’s got a wife like that." So the matter was arranged, and. however much other settlers disliked Roberts* cowboys, there was one who had a warm place in his heart for them.— Detroit Free Press. —The French proprietor of a highclass suburban hotel which has the advantage of old tree shading advertised his. hostelry as "the best shady hotel around New York city."

TAT,MAGE’S SEfiMON. Agricultural, Commercial, Mechanical and Ecclesiastical Ides. a Pointed DUcoarte mm So Stas mi tko Toacao-MImtrNMitntloM and ProvnrleaUona In ItaHnoM-So* einl FaUahooda. Rev. T. DeWitt Talmaffe, in the fol.owing sermon, gives a vivid classification of the vices of speech, and pleads for honesty in all that is said and done. The text is: ▲ certain man named Ananias, with Sapphire. his wife, sold a possession, etc.—Acts, V., 1-HX A well-matched pair, alike in ambition and in falsehood. Ananias and Sapphira. They wanted a reputation for great beneficence, aud they sold all their property, pretending to pat the entire proceeds in the charity fond, white they put much of it in their own pocket. There was no necessity that they give all their property away, but they wanted the reputation of so doing. Ananias first lied tfSout it and dropped down dead. Then Sapphira lied about it, and she dropped down dead. The two fatalities a warning to all ages of the danger of sacrificing the truth. There are thousands of ways of telling a lie. A man's whole life may be a falsehood and yet never with his lips may be falsify once. There is a way of uttering falsehood by look, by manner, as well as by lip. There are persons who are guilty of dishonesty of speech and then, afterwards say “may be," calling it a white lie, wheu-no lie is that color. The whitest lie ever told was as black as perdition. There are those so given to dishonesty of speech that they do not know when they are lying. With some it b an acquired sin, and with others, it is a natural infirmity. There are those whom sou will recognise as born liars. Their whole life, from cradle to grave, is filled up with vice of speech. Misrepresentations and prevarication are as natural to them as the infantile disease, and are a sort of moral croup or spiritual scarlatina. Then there are those who in after life have opportunities of developing this evil, and they go from deception to deception. aud from class to class, until they are regularly graduated liars. At times the air in our cities is filled with falsehood aud lies cluster around the mechanics hammer, blossom on the merchant’s yardstick, and sometimes sit in the door of churches. They are called by some fabrication, and they are called by some fiction, You might call them subterfuge or deceit, or romance, or fable, or misrepresentation, or delusion; but as 1 know uothiug to be gained by covering up a Uod-defy-ing sin with a lexicographer’s blanket, 1 shall call them iu plainest vernacular. lies. They may be divided into agricultural, commercial, inechauical, social and ecclesiastical. First of all, 1 speak of agricultural falsehoods- There is something in the presence of natural objects that has a tendency to make one pure. The trees never issue false stock. The wheat fields are always honest. Rye aud oat? never move out iu the uight, not paying for the place they occupy. Cornshocks uever make false assignment. Mountain brooks are always current. The gold of the wheat fields is never counterfeit. But while the tendency of agricultural life is to make one honest, honesty b

not the characteristic of all who come to the city markets from the country districts. You hear the creaking of the dishonest farm wagon in almost every street in our great cities—a farm wagon in which there is not one honest spoke, or one truthful rivet, from tongue to tail-board. Again and i gain has domestic economy in our great cities foundered on the farmer's firkin. When New York aud Washington sit down and weep over their sins, let Westehester county aud the neighborhoods around this capital's!t down and weep over theirs. The tendency in all rural districts is to suppose that sius aud transgressions cluster.iu our great cities; but citizens and merchauts long ago learned that it is not safe to calculate from the character of the apples ou the topi of the farmer's barrel what is the character of the apples all the way down toward the bottom. Many of our citizens aud merchants have learned that it is always safe to see the farmer measure the barrel of beets. Milk cans are uot always honest. There are those who, in country life, seem to think they have a eight to overreach graiu dealers and merchants of all styles. They think it is more honorable to raise corn than to deal iu corn. The producer sometimes practically saya to the merchant: ‘“You get your money easily, anyhow.” Does he get it easily? While the farmer sleeps, and he may go to sleep, conscious of the fact that his corn and rye are ail the time progressing, and adding to his fortune or his livlihood, the merchant tries to sleep, while conscious of the fact that at that moaentthe ship may be driving on the rock, or a wave sweeping over the hnrricane-deek spoiling his goods, or the speculators may be plotting a monetary revolution, or the burglars may be at that moment at his money safe, or the fire may haT« kindled on the very block where his store stands. Easy, is it? Let those who get their living in the quiet farm and barn take the place of one of our city merchants and see whether it is so easy. It is hard enough to have the hands blistered with outdoor work, bat it is harder with mental anxieties to have the brain consumed. God help the merchants. And do not let those who live in conntry life come to the conclusion that all the dishonesties belong to city life. 1 pass on to consider commercial lies. There are those who apologize lor deviations from the right and for practical deception by saving it is commercial custom. In other words, a lie fey multiplication becomes a virtue. There are large fortunes gathered in which there is not one drop of the

sweat of unrequited toil, and not one spark of bad temper flashes from the bronze bracket, and there is not one drop of needlewoman’s heart’s blood on the crimson plash; while there are other fortunes about which it may be said that on every door-knob and on every figure of the carpeCand on every wall there is the mark of dishonor. What if the hand wrung by toil and blistered until the skin comes off should be placed on the exquisite wall paper, leaving its mark of blood—four fingers and a thumb? or, if in the night the man should be aroused from his slumber again and again by his own conscience, getting himself np on elbow and crying out in the darkness, “Who is there?*’ <= There are large fortunes upon which God’s favor comes down, and it is just as honest and just as Christian to be affluent as it is to be poor. In many a house there is a blessing on every pictured wall and on every scroll, and on every traceried window, and the joy that flashes in the lights, and that showers in the music, and that dances in the quick feet of the children pattering through the hall has in it the favor of God and the approval of man. And there are thousands and tens of thousands of merchants who, from the first day they sold a yard of cloth, or firkin of butter, have maintained their integrity. They v ere born honest, and they will die honest. But you and I know that there are in commercial life those who are guilty of great dishonesties of speech. A merchan t says: “I am selling these goods at less than cost.’’ Is he getting for these goods a price inferior to that which he paid for them? Then he has spoken the truth. Is he getting more? Then he lies. A merchant says: “I paid,$35 for this article.” Is that the price he p»id for it? All right. But suppose he paid for it $23 instead of $i5? Then he lies. But there are just as many falsehoods before the counter as there are behind the counter. A customer comes in and asks: “How much is this article?" “It is$5." *T can get that for four somewhere else.” Can he get it for four somewhere else, or did he say that just for the purpose of getting it cheap by depreciating the value of the goods? If so, he lied. There are just as many falsehoods before the counter as there are behind the counter. A merchant unrolls upon the counter a bale of handkerchiefs. The customer says: “Are these all silk?” j “Yes." “No cotton iu them?” “No cotton in them.” Are those handkerchiefs all silk? Then the merchant told the truth. Is there any cotton in them? Theu he lied. M oreover, he defrauds himself, for this customer coming in | will after awhile liud out that he has been defrauded, and the next time he comes to town aud goes shopping, he ! will look up at that sign and say: “No, ; I won't go there; that's the place where | 1 got those handkerchiefs.” First, the ' merchant insulted God, and, second, I he picked his own pocket. Who would take the responsibility of saying how tuauy falsehoods were y es1 terday told bv hardware men, and : clothiers, aud lumbermen, and tobacconists, and jewelers, and importers, and shippers, aud dealers in furniture, and dealers in coal, aud dealers in groceries? Lies about buckles, about saddles, about harness, about shoes, about hats, about coats, about shovels, about tongs, about forks, about chairs, about sofas, about horses, about lands, about > everything. 1 arraign commercial 1 falsehood as ouc of the cryiug sins of ; our time.

1 pass on tosp^k of mechanical falsehoods. Amongtlfeprtisans are those upon whom we arc dependent for the houses in which we lire, the garments we wear, the ears iu which we ride. ; The vast majority of them ace. so fur ; as I know them, men who speak the truth, and they are upright, and many of them are foremost iu great philauthropies aud in churches; hut that they ! all do not belong to that class every | one knows. In times when there is a I great demand for labor, it is not so ; easy for such men to keep theirobiiga- ; tious, because they may miscalculate 1 in regard to the weather, or they may not be able to get the help they anticipated in their enterprise. 1 am speaking now of those who promise to do that which they know they will not be able .to do. They say they will come ; on Mouday; they do not come until ; Wednesday. They say they will come on Wednesday; they do uot come until Saturday. They say they will have | the job done iu ten days; they do uot get it done before thirty. Aud wheu a man becomes irritated and will uot 1 stand it any longer, theu the}- go and | work for him a day or two and keep | the job along; and then some eUe gets 1 irritated and outraged, aud they go and work for that man and get him pacitied, and theu they go somewhere ; else. 1 believe they call that “uuraiag | the job!” Ah, my friends, how much dishonor ’ such men would save their souls if they | would promise to do only that which ! they know they can do. **Ob,” they i say. “it's of no importance; every hotly expects to be deceived aud disap- ! pointed.’* There is a voice of thunder i sounding among the saws and the ham | mers and the shears, spying: “All liars shall have their place in the lake that burns with fire and brimstone.” I pass on tv speak of social lies. How much of society is insincere? You hardly know what to believe. Thej send their regards; you do not exactly know whether it is an expression of the heart, or an external civility. They ask yon to come to their hooae; yon hardly know whether they really want you to come. We are all accustomed to take a discount off what i we hear. “Not at home" very often ! means too lazy to dress. I was read- : ing of a lady who said she had told her last fashionable lie. There was a knock at her door and she sent word down “Not at home.” That night her husband said to her; “Mrs. So-and-So is dead.” *“13 it possible!” she said. “Yes, and she d:ed in great anguish of mind; she wanted to see yon so very much; she had something very important to disclose to yon in her last hoar, and she seat three times j

to-day, bat found yon absent every time.** Then this woman bethought herself that she had bad a bargain with her neighbor that when the longprotracted sickness was about to come to an end, she would appear at her bedside and take the secret that was to be disclosed. And she had said she was “Not at home.” Social life is struck through with insincerity. They apologize for the fact that the furnace is out; they have not had any fire *n it all winter. They apologize for the fare on their table; they never live any better. They decry their most luxuriant entertainment to win a shower of approval from you. They point to a picture on the wall as a work of one of the old masters. They say it is an heirloom in the family. It hung on the wall of a castle. A duke gave it to their grandfather! People that will lie about nothing else will lie about a picture. On small income we want the world to believe we are affluent, and society today is struck through with cheat and counterfeit and sham. How few people are natural! Frigidity sailsaround, icebdrg grinding against iceberg. You must not laugh outright; that is vulgar. You must smile. You must not dash quickly across the room, that is nugar. Yon must glide. Much of society is a round of bows and grins and grimaces and oil's and ah's and he, he, he’s and simperings and mambypambyisui, a whole world of which ia not worth one good honest round of laughter. From such a hollow scene tl»e tortured guest retires at the close of the eveuiug. assuring the host that he has eujoyed himself. Society is become so contorted and deformed in this respect that a mountain cabin where the rustics gather at a quitting or an apple-paring, has in it more good cheer than all the frescoed refrigerators of the metropolis. 1 pass on to speak of ecclesiastical lies, those which are told of the advancement or retarding of a church or sect. It is hardly worth your while tc ask an extreme Calvinist what an Armeuean believes. He will tell you that an Armiuiau believes that man can save himself. An Arminian believes no such thiug. It is hardly worth your while to ask an extreme Arminian what a Calvinist believes. He will tell you that a Calvinist believes that God made some men just to damn them. A Calvinist believes no such thiug. It is hardly worth your while to ask a Pcdo-Baptist what a Baptist believes. He will tell you a Baptist believes that immersion is necessary for salvation. A Baptist does not believe any such thing. It is hardly worth your while to ask a man, who very much hates Presbyterians, what a Presbyterian believes. He will tell you that a Presbyterian believer that there are infants in hell a span I long, and that very phraseology haz | come down from generation to generation in the Christian church. There never was a Presbyterian who believed that. “Oh,” you say, ‘T heard some Presbyterian minister 20 years ago say sow” You did uot. There never was a man who believed that. There never will be a tnan who will believe that. And yet, from boyhood, 1 have heard that particular slander ugaiust a Christian church going dou n through the community. But some one says: “The deception that 1 practice is so small that it don't amount to anything.” Ah. my friends, I it does arnouut to a great deal. Yon | say: “When 1 deceive, it is only about | a case of needles, or a box of buttons, or a row of pins.” But the article mav ! be so small you can put it in your vest pocket, but the siu is as big as tht pyramids, and the echo of your hishonor will reverberate through the mountains of eternity. There is nosuch ' thing as a small sin. They are all ' vast and stupendous, because they will all have to came under inspection iu the day of j udgment You may boast yourself of having made a due bargain—a sharp bargain. You may carry out what the Bible say? iu regard to that man who went iu tc make a purchase aud depreciated the j value of the goods, and then after he I had got away boasted of the splendid bargain he had made. “It is naught, I it is naught, saith the buyer; but when he is goue his way, then he boasteth.r It may seem to the world a sharp bargaiu, but the recordiug angel wroU dowu in the ponderous tomes of eteruity: "Mr. So-atod-So, doing business on Pennsylvania avenue, or Broadway, or Chestuut street, or State street, told one lie.” *

.ua^ uvu cavu pavu ituiu avt icai. the ecclesiastical lies, and ail the sucial lies, aud all the mechanical lies, and all the commercial lies, and all the agricultural lies, and to make everj man to speak the truth of his neighbor. My friends, let us make our life correspond to what we arc. Let ns bauiah all deception from our be havior. Let us remember that the time I comes when God will demonstrate before au assembled universe just what we are. The secret will come out. We may hide it while we live, but we can not hide it when we die. To many i life is a masquerade ball. As at such eutertaiumeul gentlemen aud ladies appear in garb of kings or queens, or mountain bandits, or clowns, and then at the close of the dance put off their disgnise.so many all through life are in mask. The masquerade bail goes on, aud gemmed bauds clasp gemmed hand, and dancing feet respond to dancing feet, and gleaming brow bends to gleaming brow, and the masquerade, ball goes bravely on. llut after a while languor comes and blurs the sight. Lights lower. Floor hollow with sepulchral echo. Music saddens into a wail. Lights lower. Now the masquerade is hardly seen. The fragrance is exchanged for the siclceuiug odor of garlands that hare lain a long while ia the damp of sepulchers. Lights lower. Mists fill the room. Tue scarf drops from the shoulder of beauty, a shroud. Lights lower. Torn leaves and withered garmnds now hardly cover np the ulcered feet. S teach of lampwicks almost quenched. Choking dampness. Chilliness. Feet stilL Hands folded. Eyes shut. Voice hushed. Lights out.

B.&O. S-W.RYJ TABLE. »nUiM Iwn Washington u follow* «*r BAST BOCKB. Ka •-2:08 a. m* No.lt.t:17 a. m+ No. 4.7:17 a. m* SNo. S...... 1:08 p. m* o. 8. 1:13 a. mf o. 14. arr. 11:40 p. mf • Dally. TOT BOUHBk No. 3 . 1:21 a. at No. 13, I’ve* 8.-00 a. as No. 8:04 a. m' No. 7 %.12:4» p. m$ No. 1.7?.. 1:42* at No. •.11:03 p. mf * Dally except Sunday. For detail Informattoc rpr detail Information retarding rata% tlmo on connecting lines, aleeping, rrriagl ear a, etc., address THOS. DONAHUE, Ticket Agent, B. A O. 8-W. Ry.. Washington, In4. J. M. CHESBROUGH, General Passenger Agent, St. Louis, Mb

L V jte

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