Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 22, Number 81, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 28 June 1901 — Page 7

The Doctor's Dilemma

CHAPTER Vl.—(Continued.) We walked home together. We had a good deal to talk of during the evening, and sat qp late. It was midnight before I found myself alone in my own room. I had half forgotten the crumpled paper in my waistcoat pocket, but now I smoothed it out before me and pondered over every word. No, there could not be a doubt that it referred to Miss Ollivier. Why should she have strayed from home? That was the question. What possible reason could there have been, strong enough to impel a young and delicately nurtured girl to run all the risks and dangers of a flight alone and unprotected? What ought I to do with this adver- ’ tisement, thrust, as it would seem, purposely under my notice? What was I to do with the clue? I might communicate at once with Messrs. Scott and Brown, giving them the information they had advertised for six months before. I might sell my knowledge of Miss Ollivies for fifty pounds. In doing so I might render her a great service, by restoring her to her proper sphere in society. But the recollection of Tardif’s description of her as looking terrified and hunted recurred vividly to me. The advertisement put her age as twenty-one. I should not have judged her so old myself, especially glace her hair had been cut short. I was not prepared to deliver her up until I knew something more of both sides of the question. Settled—that if I could see Messrs. Scott and Brown and learn something about Miss Ollivier's friends, I might be then able to decide whether I would betray her to them; but I would not write. Also, that I must see her again first, and once more urge her to have confidence in me. If she would trust me with her secret, I would be as true to her as a friend as I meant to be true to Julia. Having come to these conclusions, I cut the advertisement carefully out of the crumpled paper, and placed it in my pocketbook with portraits of my mother and Julia. Here were mementoes of the three women I cared most for in the ■world—my mother first, Julia second, and my mysterious patient third.

CHAPTER VII. I was neither in gooil spirits nor in Sood temper' during the next few days. [y mother and Julia astonished at this, for I was not ordinarily as touchy and fractious as I showed myself Immediately after my sojourn in Sark. I was ashamed of it myself. The new house, which occupied their time and thoughts so agreeably, worried the as it had not done before. I made' every possible excuse not to be sent to it, or taken to it, several times a day. It was positively necessary that I should run over to Sark this week—l had given my word to Miss Ollivier that I would do so—but I dared net mention such a project at home. My mother and Julia would be up in arms at the first syllable I uttered. What if I could do two patients good at one stroke—kill two birds with one stone? Captain Carey had a pretty little yacht lying idle in St. Sampson’s harbor, and a day’s cruising would do him all the good in the world. Why should he not carry me over to Sark, when I cduld visit my other patient, and nobody be made miserable by the trip? “I will ipake you up some of your old medicine,” I said, “bifit I strongly recommend you to have a day out oh the water; seven or eight hours at any rate. If the weather keeps as fine as it is now, ’it will do you a world of good.” “It is so dreary alone,” he oljjeeted. “If I could manage it,” I said, deliberating, “I should be glad to have a day with you.” “Ah! if you could do that!” he replied eagerly. “I’ll see about it,”'l said. “Should you mind where you sailed to?” “Not at all, not at all, my boy,” he answered, “so that I get your company. You shall be* skipper or helmsman, or both, if you like.” “Well, then, I replied, “you might take me over to the Havre Gosselin, to see how my patient's broken arm is going on. It's a bore theife being no resident medical man there at this moment.” The run over was all that we could wish. The cockle-shell of a boat belonging to the yacht lf»re me to the foot of the ladder hanging down the rock at Havre Gosselin. A very few minutes took me to the top of the cliff, and there lay the little thatched nest-like home of my patient. I hastened forward eagerly. All was silent as I crossed the atony causeway of the yard. Not a face looked out from door or window. Mam’zelle’s casement stood a little way open, and the breeze played with the curtains, fluttering them like banners in a procession. I dared not try to look in. The house door was ajar, and I approached it cautiously. “Thank heaven!” I cried within myself as I gazed eagerly into the cottage. She was lying there upon the fern-bed, halt asleep, her head fallen back upon the pillow, and the book she had been reading dropped from her hand. The whole iuterior of the cottage formed a picture. The old furniture of oak, the neutral tints of the wall and ceiling, and the deep tone of her green dress threw oat into strong relief the graceful shinlag head and pale face. I suppose she became subtly conscious, as women always are, that somebody’s eyes were fixed upon her, for she awoke fully and looked up as I lingered on the door sill. “Oh, Dr. Martin!” cried, “I am so glad I” “I am come to see how my work is going on,” I said. “How is the arm, first of alir I almost wished that mother Renouf or Suzanne Tardif had been at hand. But Miss Ollivier seemed perfectly composed, as much so as a child. She looked like one with her cropped head of hair, and frank, open face. My own momentary embarrassment passed away. The arm was going on all right, and so was mother Beaonfs charge, the sprained ankle.

By Hesba Stretton

“We must take care you*are not lame,” I said. “You must promise mie not to set your foot on the ground, or in any way rest your weight upon it, till I give you leave.” “That means that you will have to come to see me again,” she said; “is it not very difficult to come over from Guernsey ?” “Not at all,” I answered, “it ih quite a treht to me." Her face grew very grave, as if she was thinking of some unpleasant topic. She looked at me earnestly and questioningly. “May I speak to you with great plainness, Dr. Martin?” she asked. “Speak precisely what is in your mind at this moment,” I replied. “You are very, very good to me,” she said, holding out her hand to me, “but I do not want you to come more often than is quite necessary, because I. am very poor. If I were rich,” she went on hurriedly, “I should like you to come every day—it is so pleasant—but I can never pay you sufficiently for that long week you were here. So please do not visit me oftener than is quite necessary.” My face felt hot, but I scarcely knew what to say. I bungled out an answer. “I would not take any money from you, and I shall come to see you as often as I can.” “You are not offended with me, Dr. Martin?” she asked, in a pleading tone. “No,” I answered; “but you are mistaken in supposing a medical man has no love for his profession apart from its profits. To see that your arm gets properly well is part of my duty, and I shall

fulfill it without any thought of whether I shall get paid for it or no.” “Now,” she said, “I must let you know how poor I am. Will you please tofetch me my box out of my room?” I was only too glad to obey her. This seemed to be an opening to a complete confidence between us. Now I came to think of it, fortune had favored me in thus throwing us together alone. I lifted the small, light box very easily —there could not be many treasures in it—and carried it back to her. She took a key out of her pocket and unlocked if with some difficulty, but she could not raise the lid without my help. I took cars not to offer any assistance until she asked it. Yes, there were very few possessions in that light trunk, but the first glance showed me a blue silk dress and sealskin jacket amd hat. I lifted them out for her, and after them a pair of velvet slippers, soiled, as if they had been through muddy roads.' I did not utter a remark. Beneath these lay a handsome watch and chain, a tine diamond ring and five sovereigns lying loose in the box. “That is all the money I have in the world,” she said sadly. y I laid the five sovereigns in her small white hand, and she turned them over, one after another, with a pitiful look on her face. I felt foolish enough to cry cfver them myself. “Dr. Martin,” was her unexpected question after a long pause, “do you know' what became of my hair?” “Why?” I asked, looking at her fingers running through the short curls we had left her. “Because that ought to be sold for something,” she said. “I am almost glad you had it cut off. My hairdresser told me once he would give five guineas for a head of hair like mine, it was so long, and the color was uncommon. Five guineas Would not be half enough to pay you, though, I know.” She spoke so simply and quietly that I did not attempt to remonstrate with her about her anxiety to pay me. “Tardif has it,” I said; “but of course he Will giye it you back again. Shall I sell it for you, inam’zelle?” “Oh, that is just whnt I could not ask you!” she exclaimed. “You see there is no one to buy it here, and I hope it may be a long time before Igo away. I don’t know, though; that depends upon whether I can dispose of my things. There is my sealskin, it cost twenty-five guineas last year, and it ought to be worth something. And my watch—see what a nice one it is. I should like to sell them ail, every one. Then I could stay here as long as the money lasted.” “How much do you pay here?” I inquired, for she had taken me so far into counsel that I felt justified in asking that question. * “A pound a week," she answered. “A pound a week!” I repeated, in amazement. “Does Tardif know that?” “I don’t think he does,” she said. ‘'When I lyid been here a week I gave Mrs. Tardif a sovereign, thinking perhaps ahe .would give me a little out of it. I am not used to being poor, and I did not know how much I ought to pay. But ■he kept it all, and came to me every

week for more. Was It too much to pay?" _ ■ “Too much!” I said. “You should hawe spoken to Tardif about it, my poor child.” “I could not talk to Tardif about hi* mother,” she answered. “Besides, it would not have been tpo much, if I had only had plenty. But it has made me so anxious. I did not know whatever I should do when it was all gone. Ido not know now.” Here was a capital opening for a queetion about her friends. . “You will be compelled to communicate with your family,” I said. "You have told me how poo,- you are; cannot you trust me your friends?” “I have no friends,” she answered sorrowfully. “If I had any, do you suppose I should be here?” “I am one,” I said, “and Tardif is another.” “Ah, new friends,” she replied; “but I mean real old friends who have known you all your life, like your mother, Dr. Martin, or your cousin Julia. I want somebody to go to who knows all about me, and say to them, after telling them everything, keeping nothing back at all, ‘Have I done right? What else ought I 'to have done?’ No new friend could answer questions like those.” Was there any reason I could bring forward to increase her confidence in me? I thought there was, and her friendlessness and helplessness touched me to the core of my heart. Yet it was with an indefinable reluctance that I brought forward my argument. “Miss Ollivier,” I said, “I have no claim of old acquaintance or friendship, yet it is possible I might answer those questions, if. you could prevail upon yourself to tell me the circumstances of your former life.' In a few weeks I shall be in a position to show you more friendship than I can do now. I shall have a home of my own, and a wife, who will be your friend more fittingly, perhaps, than myself.” “I knew it,” she answered, half shyly. “Tardif told me you were going to marry your cousin Julia.” Just then we heard the foldyard gate swing to behind some one who was coming to the house. It was an immense relief to see only tall figure crossing the yard

“HALF ASLEEP.”

slowly. I hailed him, and he quickened his pace, his honest features lighting up at the sight of me. “How do you find mam'zelle, doctor?” were his first eager words. “All right, I said; “going on famously. Sark is enough to cure any one and anything of itself, Tardif. There is no air like it. I should not mind being a little ill here myself.” “Captain Carey is impatient to be gone,” he continued. “He sent word by me that you might be visiting every house in the island, you had been away so long.” “Not so very long,” I said, testily; “but I will just run in and say good by, and then I want you to walk with me to the cliff.” I turned back for a last look and a last word. No chance of learning her secret now. The picture was as perfect aw when I had had the first glimpse of it, only her face had grown, if possible, more charming after my renewed scrutiny of it. “Shall I send you the hair?” asked Miss Ollivier. “To be sure,” I answered. “I shall dispose of it to advantage, but I have not time to wait for it now.” “And may I write a letter to you?” “Yes,” was my reply. I was too pleased to express myself more eloquently. “Good-by,” she said; “you are a very gooil doctor to me.” “And friend?” I added. “And friend,” she repeated. For the next few days I waited with some impatience for Miss Ollivier's promised letter. It came at last, and I put it into my pocket to read when I was alone —why, I could scarcely have explained to myself. It ran thus: “Dear Dr. Martin —I have no little commission to trouble you with. Tardif tells me it was quite a mistake, his mother takiug a sovereign from me each week. She does not understand English money; and he says I have paid quite sufficient to stay with them a whole year longer without paying any more. I am quite content about that now. Tardif says, too, that he has a friend in Southampton who will buy my hair, and give more than anybody in Guernsey. So I need not trouble you about it, though I am sure you would have done'it for me. “Good by, my good doctor. I am trying to do everything you told me exactly; and lam getting well again fast. I do not believe I shall be lame; you are too clevei for that. Your patient, "OLIVIA." Olivia! I looked at the word again to make sure of it. Then It was not her surname that was Ollivier, and I was still ignorant of thut. I saw in a moment how the mistake had arisen, and how innocent was of any deception in the matter. Bbe would tell Tardif that her name was Olivia, and he thought only of the Olliviers he knew. It was a mistake that had been of use in checking curiosity, and I did not feel bound to put it right. My mother and Julia appeared to have forgotten my patient in Sark altogether. ' Olivia! I thought it a rorf pretty name, and repeated it to myself with its abbreviations. Olive, Livy. It was diffl-

cult to abbreviate Julia; Ju, I had called her in my rudest schoolboy days. I wondered how high Olivia would stand beside me;' for I had never seen her on her feet. Julia was not two inches shorter than myself; a tall, stiff figure, neither slender enough to be lissome, nor wellproportioned enough to be majestic. But she waa very good, und qer price was far above rubies. I visited Sark again in about ten days, to Set Olivia free from my embargo upon her walking. I allowed her to walk a little way along a smooth meadow path, leaning on my arm; and I found that she was a head lower than mysdlf—a beautiful height for a woman. That time Captain Carey had set me down at the Havre Gosselin, appointing to meet at the Creux harbor, which was exactly on the opposite side of the island. In crossing over to it—a distance of rather more than a mile —I encountered Julia’s friends, Emma and Maria Brouard. “You here again, Martin!” exclaimed Emma. “Yes,” I answered; “Captain Carey set me down at the Havre Gosselin, and is gone round to, meet me at the Creux.” “You have been to see that young person?” asked Maria.' “Yes,” I replied. “She is a very singular young woman,” she continued; “we think beibstupld: We cannot make anything of her. But there is no doubt poor Tardif means to marry her.” “Nonsense!" I ejaculated hotly; “I beg your pardon. Maria, but I give Tardif credit for sense enough to know his own position.” I had half an hour to wait in the little harbor, its great cliffs rising all about me, with only a tunnel bored through them to form an entrance to the-green island within. My rage had partly fumed itself away before the yacht came in sight. (To be continued.)

THEY GOT BISMARCK’S CONSENT

Bnt It Was Expressed in Langnage Altogether Unconventional. The deference of the English royal family to the opinions of their Gernkm cousins was never better hit off than by a story which comes from one of the royal household, who told it to the writer. When Lord Archibald Campbell waa about to be engaged to Miss Janet Callender, whom he eventually married, he dutifully went to his father for his approval. “Delighted, I’m sure,” said the Duke of Aagyll. “She is in every way desirable. Has money, good looks, brains, accomplishments. But—er—perhaps you had better let me speak to Lome. He may think the Princess has a right to consulted.” Recognizing the responsibility of having a royal highness for a sister-in-law, Lord Archie “waited.” Lord Lome, on being told of the proposed alliance, was agreeable to the young lady as ffcr as he was concerned, but thought it only right that the Princess should be consulted as to who should enter the family. Now her royal highness in her frank, impulsive way said: “If Archie likes her, she suits me down to the ground. She Is handsome and clever, and has strong opinions of her own. All tlie same I think I must speak to the Queen first.” Which she did. Victoria not only remembered Miss Callender’s presentation at court, but graciously approved of the match, saying: “However, Louise, I think I ought to consult my German cousins first." And the Queen wrote to Germany. The Kaiser remembered meeting Miss Callender and replied to the Queen approvingly, adding, “But I will leave this letter open for a last word, for I should not care to speak finally until I had consulted Bismarck.” The Kaiser found Bismarck taking his ease with rye bread, sausage, beer, and a long pipe, and told him of the mighty alliance in prospective. When the Emperor had finished Bismarck took his long pipe out of his mouth and replied: “Me? Oh, I don’t care a d n.”

Turned Down.

“It is true,” said Miss Welloph, “that I have a fair income, but I have to be careful of It.” “Don’t you think,” said Mr. ForehenHunt, “that it would be well to marry someone who would help you to take—” "Pardon me,” she interrupted, “but I’m not prepared to, ‘husband my resources’ in that way.”—Philadelphia Press.

Literary Chat.

Miss Midwood—What has Edwin Markham written beside “The Man with the Hoe?” Miss Flatbush Why, don’t you know? “How I Came to Write ‘The Man with the Hoe,’ ” “How I Came Near Not Writing ‘The Man with the Hoe,’ ” “How I Came to Write ‘How I Wrote “The Man with the Hoe,” ’ ” etc. —Brooklyn Eagle.

Ostracised.

Ascum—lt seems strange that yon and Popleigh should be such good friends, and yet neither his wife nor any of her relatives ever have a fcood word for you. Teller—No, they simply hate me. You see Popleigh Insisted on naming his first born after me. Philadelphia Press.

Broken.

Maud—l made the worst break last night I ever made In my life. Mabel—How? Mand—Broke off my engagement with Jack Billiwlnk. His ancle died this morning and left him Independently rich. Hadn’t you heard?—Chicago Tribune.

Mistaken Grief.

Suitor—Pray, don’t cry; I assure you I will love, cherish and protect your daughter, sir. Prospective Father-in-law—O, It isn’t that; I am supporting .two sons-in-law now.—Ohio State Journal. The early clrcos catches the amal) boy’s quarter.

FARMS AND FARMERS

Ingenious Hot Stacker. A patent has recently been issued to a Montana man which provides a hoisting device to be used as a hay stacker, derrick and the like. The device consists of a base constructed in adjustable sections locked together by a key which Is inserted in one of three recesses formed In the sections. Ittsoekets at the ends of the base sections side sections having ball ends are received. Thus universal joints are produced. The side sections are composed of> sliding members, the upper of which are raised by a ratchet drum ami rope. Forked guy ropes support the side sections, corresponding members of • the forked portions of the guy ropes being connected at.the same side of the side members and adjacent to each other. A pulley Is suspended between the upper members of the side sections, and over the pulley a hoist rope is carried. The end of the hoist rope, if It be so de-

DERRICK WITH HAY FORK.

Sired, may be connected with a sling, a platform or with any device necessary in hoisting material of different kinds. The device is described in the Scientific American, from which the illustration is reproduced. Dairying in lowa. The report of Dairy and Food Commissioner Norton, of lowa, contains a number of statisjieal facts which are of general interest. The total number of cows in lowa is 1,295,900, or an average of 23 to the square mile in the less populous portions of the State to 55 in the more populous. The value of these cows is <38,358,503, or nearly <3O per cow. The number of cows to each 1,000 population is 576. The average price of buttdr has decreased over seven years ago, but has Increased over last year. The average price in 1893 was 27 cents; In 1894, 24 cents; in 1895, 21 cents; in 1896, 20 cents, and In 1900, 22 cents. During the year ending July 1, 1900, therfe were but three licenses issued for the sale of oleomargarine In the State. All of these have since expired, and no renewals have been taken out Of the 936 creameries In the State 842 are operated on the separator plan, 71 on the gathered cream plan and 50 on a combination of the two plans. Five hundred and one creameries are owned by individuals, 349 are operated on the co-operative plan, 116 on the stock company plan. There has been a notable Increase In the past year of the number of farm separators In use in the State, in 1900 there being 3,332 as against 1,762 of the previous year and 904 of 1898. To Aid in Dehorning. A correspondent of Hoard’s Dairyman describee a tie he uses for bolding a cow’s head at the stanchion while dehorning. The accompanying cut shows how It is made. When the cow’s bead Is fast in the stanchion, the rope Is dropped over the neck, the loop Is

TIE FOR DEHORNING.

caught on the under side and the rope, doubled, la pot through the loop and placed around the noae far enough up not to shut off her breathing. The rope Is then pulled back to a poet at the aide of the atanchlon, and one turn la made around the post A man hold* the end. and by placing hU weight on the rope can hold the cow’s bead quite secure while her horns are being removed. The rope la quickly removed by sllpping It off the noae and pulling It out from the loop. Butt and Tip Kernels for Seed. Professor Shamel, Instructor In farm crops at the Illinois College of Agriculture, says that It la a good plan to shell off and discard both the tips and butts of the corn ears selected for seed. That was wlmt we were taught to do when young, and we thought It the proper way until we saw the results of a trial made by the late Dr. E. Lewis Stvrtevant, while Director of the New Tork Experiment Station at Geneva. He planted several rows of corn, placing the kernels In the drills just as they grew In order on the cob, also strips in which ooe had seed from eight butt kernels In each raw, another £*om eight tt»

> ..vwv * * “‘“O vv ‘“» ****'* *** vr half also produced a larger yield than those nearer the middle of the ear. In every rase the yield was at the rate of several bushels less per acre from those keruels near the middle of the ear.— American Cultivator. Insect Enemies of Growing Wheat. There are many insects which feed on and Injure growing wheat, but the greater proportion of the losses to wheat fields chargeable to Insects Is due to the attacks of less than half a dozen species. The most destructive of these pests is the chinch bug. The great damage to farm crops by this Insect Is due to Its wide distribution, its prevalence more or less every year, the enormous multiplication lu favorable seasons, and to the fact that It attacks all the cereals and most forage plants. The next in Importance Is the Hessian fly. It Is estimated that the damage to the wheat crop by this pest is about ten per cent of the product In the chief wheat-growing sections of this country, which indicates an annual los of forty million bushels and over. Next of lm-, porthnee are the wheat midge and grain plant Uce. Insects of second-rate importance are the wheat-straw worms, the wheat-bulb worm, army worm, cutworms and various sawflies—Massachusetts Ploughman. Red Top Hay and Pasture. It used to be a custom to sow red top along with clover for meadows or pasture land. It did not reach Its best condition until the clover had been cut for two years, and even until timothy had passed its greatest yield, but as It was fit to cut for hay about the same time as the timothy they were often sown together. It would grow on low, moist lands where the clover or timothy were likely to winter kill, it made a strong, smooth turf, and the fine hay, when cut early, was relished by all the animals. Seedsmen tell ns that the sales of re<Ltop seed are growing less, and we are very sorry If it Is so. As a pasture grass a mixture of June grass or Kentucky blue grass (poa pretensis) and red top (agrostls vulgaris), leaves but little to be desired, the first being early and the red top enduring until the late fall. One bushel of each seed per acre gives good results for pasture land, though some of the clovers may be added to improve the field the first year or two.—Exchange. Goose Farming In England. Goose farming and goose fattening have fallen off greatly in England. From old accounts we read that It was' not uncommon for a man to keep a flock of one thousand, each of which might be expected to rear on an average seven goslings. The flocks were regularly taken to graze and water the same as sheep, and the man who herded them was called a goose herd or gozzard. The birds wore plucked live times in the year, and in the autumn flocks were driven to London or other markets. They traveled at the rate of about a mile an hour, and would get over nearly ten miles a day. When geese are to be traveled a distance In Europe they are driven through warm tar and then through sand, which “boots” them for the Jonrney. Whole Corn Silane. The corn for siloing whole should be one of the small flint varieties, planted at the rate of not over twelve quarts of seed per acre, says Hoard's Dairyman. Put the corn in the silo when the seed is in milk and take extra precautions that it is well and solidly packed, without holes or empty corners. Cover with hay os suggested. If the work Is well done, there should result a fair quality of silage, but as It takes more wort; to handle it and less corn of the flint varieties can be grown per acre than the large ensilage corns whole corn silage costs more per ton than the cut silage. Good ensilage will not Injure the milk In any way. Horse for the Firmer, Draft horses of good form sell almost according to weight, except that as weights Increase prices rise at a much greater ratio, so that extreme weights bring enormous prices If only the bone Is satisfactory. Prices range from f 125 to |3OO. with an occasional one higher and with an increase of about 10 per cent when matched In teams. These prices are sometimes exceeded, and dealers Insist that prices were never so low that a span of draft bones would not bring <OOO If only they weFe good enough. Farms Brevities. A simple way of keeping trace of the age of a fowl Is to put a ring made of wire on one of her legs for each year of her life. The output of the 175 canneries In Maine is <5,000,000 annually. In ordinary years <350,000 Is paid to farmers for sweet corn alone. The disappearance of the “old-fash-ioned apple” is a frequent lament Thu modern fruit is fair to look upon, bdt genuine flavor is too often absent Raspberry and blackberry plants are benefited by continuous cultivation during the time of fruiting, and to accomplish this they should be tied to wires. Sugar beet factories are now In successful operation In California, New Mexico. Utah, Nebraska. Nsw York. Oregon, Minnesota, Illinois, Washington, Colorado and Michigan.