Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 35, Number 137, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 4 December 1903 — Page 2

Old Blazer’s Hero

CHAPTER ll.— (CoatinuedJ “Very well, gentlemen,” said'the center of interest, rising. “If you will have It, you will have it. I*m ns hoarse a* a «row, bnt if you make me sing it’s no fanlt of mine, and you must put up with it.” He threw down liis riding whip and nnntered to the piano. He struck a chord oV two and the character of the instrument seemed to change. It jingled still'—it would have jingled under the hands of the king, of pianists—but his voice was richer, fuller and softer than. It had been. Even now he was not go- - tag to waste a sniff of the incense which was wafted about him. and was at once so common and so delightful. He preluded at half-random for a minute or two, and when he had whetted expectancy to its keenest edge he struck some opening chords and in due time began to sing. His voice was of that rare and exquisite quality which inspires immediate confidence in the listener. On the song of nature's born singers the soul embarks without hesitation at the Call of tile first true note-. If there had been nothing else to have accounted for it, it would have been a remarkable tribute to .Will Hackett’s vocal powers that a wayfarer should hajre paused in the street at the first note of his song, and should have stood stqck still in the wind and snow to listen. There was. however, ‘much else to account for this circumsftance, for the wayfarer was none other than Will Hackett’s unsuccessful rival. He had forgotten the wind and the snow half an hour before, and now in the very act of standing still to listen he forgot the song. He doubted the news he liad heard, and had tried vainly to persuade himself that he bad no belief in it at all, but his thoughts were comfortless and disturbed. He had been Mary Howarth’s suitor these two years, and though he had been more than sufficiently shy in his suit and timid enough iuliis hopes, lie had hardly-iden-tified swaggering Will Hackett as a rival.

The Haoketts ha(l been well-to-do time •nt of mind, but for the last three or four generations the family had been rolling •o industriously downhill that it waS a marvel they had not long since reached the bottom. This sweet-throated Will’s great-grandfather had in his time gauiMed away one-half the family belongings. The grandfather had in like manner reduced liis share by a moiety; and the father.' whose career was briefer nnd more rapid than that of his predecessors, fiad left the remnant of the property so heavily mortgaged as to be almost value--Ims. Since his death the Hackett homestead had Tteen closed and was likely w remain so, for the mining resources of the district round about were fast being •peued up. and coal pits nnd blasting furnaces are undesirable neighbors for a country seat.*''-' The discovery of the <ptineral resources of the land would have made careful people wealthy, but it had •nly encouraged the later generations of the Hacketts to larger extravagances. Will had inherited the tastes nnd proclivities of his ancestors, and was as deep iu debt as I.e knew how to be. If there had been nothing worse than the fallen fortunes of his family with which to reproach Will Hackett the thing might have been borne with; but the jotiug felltgw kept the family reputation alive in nfl ways, nnd the graver sort *1 people shrugged their shoulders at the aiention of him, whilst the feebler held up their hands in horror. The long and the short of itlts, he was the last sort •f man in the world for a girl to think •f marrying. Now the disappointed lover knew aN these things, and they galled him terribly. *

Edward Blane. sunk deep iu the mem•ry of these things, stood in the storm, wrathful, sore-hearted and piteous. When the song was finished and the applause which followed it aroused him from his thoughts, he awoke out of a dream which had carried him both into the past nnd the future by a year or two. He could sot have told .then or afterward what impulse drew hrm into” file hotel and led him to the upper room in which the singnig was going on. The tiling seemed most to desire jus ft lien was solitude, tad he had no mind to exchange unmeaning talk with people he did not care for, »r even to listen to Will Hnckett's dehghtful singing. Yet tie entered and stood rather moodily propping himself ■gainst the door, until his old hnlf-nbnn-doued crony discovered him, and crossed the room to shake hands. "Why, Ned. old lad, it’s a hundred years since I saw the last of you. What brings you here?” “I heard your singing ns I was going jky.” said Ned. “1 wouldn't .come up till \ jov'd finished.” “And now.’’ cried the landlord, “it’s I pretty •well beknown as there's nothing Mr. Hackett wouldn’t be willin' to do to j wMige Mr. Blane. and he can hardly do fern than sing another song to pay him j for standin' out i’ the cold to listen to ; the first un.’’ “Ay, sing us a song. will!" said his •id companion. "They’re all rarely jileased to hear you." “Why. so I wUI.” answered Hackett; 7st I’ll have a little refreshment first, ywn please. Warden." The landlord bustled from the room •■d anon returned. Then Hackett aang ••other aong. This time he chose “Sally !■ Our Alley." and the unlucky lover. though not easily disposed te be affronted as a rule, felt a personal application la the ditty and took umbrage at it. The *»ff*h* tender exultation of the line “Oh, then I’ll piarry Sally" especially wounded him. find the singer's accidental —ailing look in his direction seemed «• his raw and distempered fancy as if fll were meant to barb the aha ft. He lsaasd moodily agai— t the wall and resigned himself to bitter fancies. Ilack•ett, his song being over, began to rally him upon his gloomy temper.

By DAVID CHRISTIE MURRAY.

“You’ve taken rather tfiore than’s good for you," said the Sufferer. “Better stop it and go home.” "Who? 1?” cries Hackett. “Not a bit of it! To-day’s the only day we own. We mayn’t be alive to enjoy ourselves to-morrow? 1 The foolish youngster spoke with so much aplomb, and with an-air so gay and Sprightly, and laughed so heartily in his speech that everybody hut Ned Illane took the speech itself to be full of wit and humor and laughed loudly with him. And, in brfef, the popular tenor sang so often and found refreshment so essential between songs that when but an hour had gone by his ditties were all of the Bacchanalian, sort, and were sung wjth less taste and refinement than might have been asked for from so accomplished a vocalist. All this was gall and wormwood to the tiU.fortunnte lover. His thoughts ran before and he saw the girl he cared for sitting lonely and pale ancT fad; at borne,; and in the same flash of ttiile saw her husband ns lie saw him now, swaggering and roystering with boon companions who were unworthy of him. These fancies cut him to the heart, and at last, taking Hackett by the arm,/he whispered in a tone which sounded a trifle fierce from so ordinnrily mild a man^"Come home, Hackett. If you can’t see when you’re on the way to make a fool of yourself, your friends must see it for you.” It mny be allowed that, along with his congenial vices, Mr. Hackett had at least the congenital merit of being goodtempered. He laughed allowingly, and suffered himself to be drawn away, but in the keen fresh air of the streets he began to reel and to talk thickly, and his rival, with a heart growing momentarily heavier and sorer, piloted him home, and, bidding him good night at the door, turned away, feeling as blank, as desolate as the night itself.

CHAPTER 111. Church bells were ringing on a March morning. They rang under a sky half covered with a tatter of ragged cloud, through the vivid rents* whereof broad sunshine poured. The wind, which buffeted the music of the bells, chased the tattered clouds so swiftly that the sunlight flowed over the heath, the cluster of cottages, and the church, like a series of charging waves. A quarter of a mile away from the center bf the music which tumbled in such exuberant and wind-swept mirth, stood a sign post, holding four gaunt arms.* Against it leaned Ned Blane, wearing an air of -deep chagrin, and kicking with occasional sudden emphasis at any projecting bit of turf which lay Within reach. While he lounged thus Rejected he was unaware of the approach pf a portly brqadelotli personage, who picked his way with a cat-like nicety aiid deliberation among the shilling puddles on the western road. This person had for a long time held in view the figure of the melnncholy lounger at the .sign post. Finding himself still unnoticed, when he had grown quite near he coughed behind one of his glossy gloves witli an air of accident, and having thus attracted the lounger's notice, lie bade him good morning. There arj people who in speaking convey the impression that their vocal organs are oiled. Mr. lloratio Lowther was one of these. His salute was a benediction. Ned drew liimself up with a start and blushed like fire. He pushed back the soft felt hat and nodded in answer to the salutation-

"It is a lovely morning," said Mr. Lowther, pausing: "It gives one a sense of ” He did not say what it gave one a sense of. but he waved jus shining black gloves hither and thither, and smiled with the look of a man who has achieved a conversational felicity. Ned's face wore an expression of disgusted weariness which he tried in vain to replace by one of interest as he surveyed the landscape, in answer to the invitation conveyed by the waving black gloves. “The weather’s right enough," he answered. "The hells," said Mr. Lowther. "The bells. Those morning bells! How many a tale their music tells! I perrisume" —he had a knack which suited his voice nnd face to perfection, of lengthening certain words in this way—"l perrisume they are ringing for young Hackett.” Ned looked at him with sudden keenness. Mr. Lowther. with his head slightly thrown back ami a little on one side, was smiling softly and benevolently nt nature and the bellsy and appeared to beunaware of the other's gaze. Observiug this, the young muu answered iu an uninterested tone: "Yes, they are ringing for Will Hackett.” * “Has it occurred to you?" asked Mr. Lowther. preserving his attitude and his smile —“do you think ” “Has what occurred to me?" the other, looking up at hint. “That II ackett might have done —I wouldn't indicate a breath to disparage the young lady." Tie was still. smiling soft|y nt yie landscape nnd the bells, and could not l>e supposed to know that Blaise was looking at him with eyes of wrath and wonder. "But might he uot How —might he not have done a little better?"

"Perhaps lie might. I dou’t know where, though: It seems to me he has' done a lot better than he deserves.” "It mny be so,” responded Mr. Lowther. "It. may be so. But in a worldly Sense." ‘ "It is his own affair,” said Blane, as it the talk wearied blot.- - “Assuredly." Mr. Lowther answered. "Ob, yes. Assuredly. Quite his own affair." He paused there and smiled on his companion. "I do not say ttiat wg should set too lofty a valleyou on our worjdy goods, but it behooves us to be

cartful even of our own temporary welfare. Do you happen to know if our young friend receives anythingwith the bride?” “No*” said Ned, loudly and with angry emphasis. “My dear young friend,” cried Mr. Lowther, somewhat taken aback by this unlooked-for vehemence, and recoiling a pace or two. •“I am not your, dear young friend,” said S’ed, with a spiile, which had as much anger as amusement in it. “I havq nothing in the world to talk to you about, and £ would a great deal rather be alone.” “That,” replied Mr. Lowther, very sweetly, “is "bn invitation not to linger. I will accept it ia that sense, Mr. Blane, and will wish you good morning.” The windy music of the bells and the swiftly alternating bands of shade and were still careering over the heath as Mr. Lowther turned his broadcloth back upon the finger post, and left the young man staring sadly after him. “What do you want to know about Will Hackett’s affairs for? Is he in your clutches, you fat old spider? Heaven help him if he is! The bit he has left won’t be long in going after what he used to have if he has got into your web.”

Until the actual coming of the wedding day he had never been able to convince himself that his sweetheart would really make so bad a business of herself as to marry Will Hackett. Spmetliipg was to have turrifed up to prevent so egregious a sacrifice, some outbreak on the part of the intended bridegroom, or discovery on the side of his victim. His wife could be nothing less than a victim, to the Unlucky- rival’s fancy, and he fpuml people enough to agree with him and confirm him in his opinion. Ned had quite resolved to see nothing Of tlie wedding ceremony, for to what good end should he vex himself by that? And yet here lie was, a mile near<n\ the parish church than he liad a right to be, and hankering nfter piyn with’ that unreasoning instinct whiclrprompts children to irritate sore places. When Mr. Horae tio Lowther had got some two or three hundred yards away Ned lounged after him slowly and irresolutely. There were no faces at the cottage windows and no idlers or wayfarers in the road. The bells were silent now, for the wedding procession had entered the church. He must needs enter the porch, and there, in company with two or three peeping children, whom his presence awed into supernatural gravity and silence, listen to the murmuring and echoing voice of the minister as it rolled indistinctly about the hollow building, which was more than five-sixths empty. He heard the groom’s voice more clearly, for Hackett’s loud swagger was but little tempered by the place and the occasion. The listener turned away and stood at the entrance to the porch, looking out upon the graveyard for a little while; and then, stepping lightly by instinct, walked down the path and into the village street. It was all bare and empty as he had left it, but a sudden unreasonable fear of being observed set him walking rapidly, and he felt as if any one who should chance to see hint must know how raw and desolate and heartbroken he was. Behind him antj somewhat gaining upon him, though not rapidly, was a man on horseback. The horse was fat and unwieldy. By dint of hard kicking and tight holding the rider quickened his pace and kept his seat until he came on a level with the foot passenger and gasped his name. “Mr. Edward.” Ned Blane looked up and recognized the Bard. * “What's- ithe matter?” he asked, for Shadrach’s face was wild. “The Blazer; the Old Blazer,” said Shadrach, breathing hard. “What! Not on fire again?” “No; drowned out this time. Seven-and-forty down. You’m wanted. I seen you by the church an’ I’ve been tryin’ to holler iver sence, but I’ve had all the breath* shook out o’ me.” The first feeling in the wounded lover’s heart was so terribly like thankfulness that some absorbing duty called him from himself that he stood stock still for a moment, £iore horrified at himself than nt the news. In the next instant he turned hack upon the way he had traveled, running like a deer. (To he continued.) ~

A Poet’s Mother.

Robert Buchanan had one»d'eep enthusiasm, his mother. She was always younfe in her appearance, but he regarded her. to the end of her life, as abounding even in girlish charms. He could never realize that she was growing old. In looking at her. even when she was close upon 80, lie saw the soft blue ey«fe and golden hair which he had loved long ago. "I cannot imagine my mother as old," he said again and again, the day after she died. "I do not feel that she is dead, for Lcannot imagine the world without her." Whin, a youth of eighteen, he went up to London, "to take the world by storm," he was a miserably homesick Lad. He sat in a corner of the railway carriage, his heart aching, his eyes dim with tears. “I realized." he says, "that I was for the first ..time quite friendless and alone. I though-, of my dear mother praying for me at home, and I longed to turn back and ask her forgiveness for any pain I had caused her. Even now, I never take a railway journey nt night without recalling the dismal heartache of {that midnight journey to London." Almost dally, during this early struggle, did he receive a letter from her, nlways full of loving Instruction for his guidance. Ills answers were overflowing with heart nnd hop?. Mother nnd son were constant In this tender service. From first to last they were the best and most Intimate of friends. r >'

Uncle Reuben’s Philosophy.

I hev bad fi right smart lot of people cum to me fur advice at one time or another. Iu de fust place, dey wanted to feave a lawyer's fee an’ In de next dey wanted to see if I was as big a fule as dey was. If I didn't agree wld ’em I was a bigger one, of count.— Detroit Free Pres*. , .

FARMERS GORNER

Good Water Gate, During the past season farmers wjio have had streams running through their farms have been kept very busy keeping up water gates. Having such a stream through my farm I have been thinking up a very good plan for water gates. I have four or five gates made according to the plan, a sketch of which I enclose. The plan of gate, I think, Is about as simple as I have seen. Upon one side of the stream an ordinary post is set, on the opposite side a much longer post is set, on the top of which is provided a pulley. The gate can be made to fit the gap In the streatn, having In the tops of the cross pieces pulleys. A rope or wire extended from the top of the short post through the pulleys on the gate, and then extending through the pulley at the top of the long post, with a weight attached to the end, cbmpletes the de-

CONVENIENT WATER GATE.

vice. The gate can be kept in place by driving some stakes down in the 60ft ground, which will hold the gate to Its place except In high water. When the water gets up the gate will float out and as it floats the weight will come down and rest on bracket, provided for that purpose, and will hold It there until the water recedes, when the gate must again be put in place.— T. C. Engle, in lowa Homstead. An All-Around Log Sled. I have been getting out some lumber, and as there, was little snow I have used the sled shown herewith. It is called a snapdragon, and is such as is used in the lumber camp. It can Joe used with or without snow. I took two yellow birch stumps about six inches through and three feet long for runners. The two bunks were about the saTne size-and 2 feet 8 Inches long. The forward bunk is put on with one l}plt in each end, so it can have a good chance to work. For the.middle bunk I put two twoinch holes through each runner, then took -a small, found birch of the size wanted, heated it hot In a fire and bent it in the shape needed to put over the middle bunk and the two ends down

FOR DRAWING LOGS IN WOODS.

through the runner, then wedged them solid, but so there would of play. The nose of the runners must be made so they will not catch on every rock or stump. Tnis can be done by putting the forward bunk at the very end of the runner. The chain is put on the log with a half hitch and drawn through a hole through both bunks. Blych Is the best Wood, as it wears the smoothest on frozen ground. —A Michigan Farmer, In Farm and Home.

World’s Fair Dairy Ram*. The four dairy barns nt the World’s Fair, St. Louis, will be completed so that the cows may be brought-to the exposition grounds before the first of the year. Their location is at the north end of the live stock site and just west of the proposed live stock farm or main amphitheater. The barns will be uniform octagons, 100 feet in diameter. Each will hare thirty-eight stalls arranged in a semi circle, with a. rear promenade twelve feet wide-to accommodate visitors. Eight box stalls 8 by 12 will be provided for the cows nt calving time, and two box stalls will furnish quarters for balls. The second floor will have four feed bins, each holding about 500 bushels of ground feed. Sleeping quarters for the men in charge of the cows are also provided. The arrangement of the barns permits full Inspection of the stock by visitors and of the care of the cows to the boat possible advantage. Chief Coburn and Secretary Mills express themselves as well pleased with the plfins.

Why Bo Many Fail. Many people never get to the front In the poultry business because they struggle and work from yeur to year only to l>e beaten again at the shows nnd by practically some beginner, but finally after losing five or ten years’ time they find that their mistake was In always buying something cheap Instead of paying a Utile more and getting good foundation stock. The quicker a man buys good birds to breed from the sooner he Is started right In the fancy and the sooner he wUI get a ■hare of the business.—'T. B. King, American Poultry Journal.

* Room for I approvement. Farmers pay taxes 'on everythin*, for everything they hare ia in sight. Every farmer pays taxes. But one per•on In flfty In New York City paya taxes. Much ot ths city property Is

“out of sight," hence escapes taxation. The levy has to be increased in order to raise enough money for carrying on the State and county government, and the farmer, pays more than his proportion. There Is room for Improvement in the methods of taxation.—-lowa Homestead. ' . - f Yellow Snifter Without Dye. To make butter with a natural yellow color during the winter months is almost a lost art in this age of frauds aiid shams. While farmers and dairymen denounce oleomargarine as a fraud arid want a law to prevent it from being colored yellow, they do not sell their own butter with Its natural color, but use a few drops of butter color to give It an attractive tint. I supply a few private customers with butter, and while I do not claim that my butter Is ns -dark a yellow in the winter as in the mouths when the cows are on pasture, yet It always has color enough to look well without adding artificial coloring to the cream. To make yellow butter in the wining without artificial aid requires extra care in making the butter, in feeding the cows and selecting the cows. Some cows will make a darkef tinted butter than others. The Jersey cows are perhaps th£ best for making yellow butter in the winter and firm butter during the hot summer months. If butter color was not used this fact would add to the value of Jersey cows. In feeding to make yellow butter I think there is nothing better thjjn carrots. With a good supply of these roots, together? with plenty of clover hay and good coni and bran, with the light care In handling the cream, it Is possible to produce fine butter In cold weather. I generally have some blue grass left in the woods pasture in the fall, and the cattle can get a bite when there is no snow on the ground In the winter. —Jersey Bulletin.

Late Plowing Kills Insects. grubs or larvae of the May beetle are hard to destroy, on account of their underground life. A. tT. Gilman thinks the late fall plowing will be beneficial, but It should be deep, as the grubs burrow down to a considerable depth to pass the winter. Various artificial remedies have been suggested for this Insect, one of which is the mixing of wood ashes with the soil, which makes it vow unpleasant for the grubs and in some cases has proved very effectuaL Thq application of a strang kerosene emulsion, Immediately followed by a drenching with water, which carries the ell down'’to tho Insects, has been used very successfully, especially on dry and sandy soil. This is a good remedy for small areas, but it is doubtful if it would pay in fields.—American Cultivator.

Success with Root Crops. For a series of years large s£ed of root given better yields at the Ontario Experiment Station than medium and small-sized seed. Whole seed of mangels and, sugar beets produced a greater yield than a similar quantity of broken seed. An experiment conducted this season resulted in the best yields of sugar beets and carrots when the seed was planted 1% inches deep. Level culture is reported ns having given better yields of sugar beets than ridge»culture. A mixed fertilizer consisting of 52 1-3 pounds each of nitrate of soda and muriate of potash and 100 2-3 pounds of superphosphate increased the yield of Sweetish turnips about four tons per acre, at a cost of about $1 per ten.

How to Market Hons. After I have my hogs fattened I would not drive them to market. I live three miles from a railway station. Whenever I have driven them that distance I have had a loss of from five to seven pounds. If I hauled them I have never had a shrinkage of more than one and a half to two pounds. Then I would have my cars well bedded; ride with them myself; go with them to market, stay with them in the yards, water, feed and stay by them until they cross the scales. Whenever I get one who can attend to that better than I ran 1 will turn it over to him. There is no money in it if it Is not properly conducted. —John Cownle, In Farm aud Home/

Farm Notes. Whipping a horse for shying makes him worse* / The best egg producers are not always the best market fowls. The man who does the least work In the field Is the man who usually has the most accurate ear for the dinner bell. Whenever a dozen eggs sell for the price of a pound of butter, the man with the hens is ahead of the man

with tlietoows. Where Is the man who has stuck to raising sorghum? He Is not Mt much In evidence as he once was. It certainly Is a crop that pays. A large canvas for use during stacking will he found to be a good Investment It will pay for Itself In stacking time duping one hard rati. On too many farms where hogs aro kept the feeding floor is conspicuous for Its absence. It pays to have a feeding floor for fattening hogs. Sweet potatoes come very near being bread, meat and medicine. This is a great combination. Sweet potatoes can be cooked without a pot. stove or oven, and can be eaten without a plate, knife and fork. The sweet potato ia an obliging vegetable. -—-4 - —- Some one has called for a device to “ring off” the “time killer” on a partiline rural telephone system. In some localities this Is a growing evil and will go on until science will evolve a systeaa that trill eliminate the eave»> dropper, the goealpor and other nndeslr* able petrona.

Leopold’s Chinese House.

King Leopold Off Belgium lias just Imported a beautiful little Chinese bouse as a curiosity. After much trouble it was acquired fpr him by the Belgian Consul- at Shanghai. That house is a marvel of beauty. It Is -carved from top to bottom in splendidj wood. The rooms are large, and allfurnished In Chinese style. The hduse, which will travel in pieces to Belgium, ( Is to be set up in the park at Laeken,j where the king has his country house.) and has aireauy erected a Chinese pagoda and a Chinese tower. The iovel of Chinese things was a craze of the* Georgian period in England. We still! see traces of it In the pagoda in Kewj Gardens and in much of the early; Chippendale work. Every lady of those; times had her black boy, her Chinese* grotesque figures, and her little span* iel.

Reads Like a Miracle.

Friarspoint, Miss., Nov. 30. —The Butler case (; still continues to be the; talk of the town. Mr. G. L. Butler, the father of the little boy, says: “The doctor said my boy had diseqjsel of the spinal chord, and treated him! for two months, during which he got, worse all the time. Finally, the doctor told me he did not know what was the! trouble. The boy would wnke up dur-; ing the night and say that he wasdyingpHe would be nervpus and trem-' bling and would want to run from thej house, saying ho saw ugly things, which frightened him. After we hadJ tried everything else, I read an advertisement of Dodd’s Kidney Fills as a! cure for -Nervous Troubles. I purchased some and used them until he had taken- altogether eight boxes, when he was sound, and, well with not a single symptom of the old hie. This was some months ago, and’ I feel sure that he is permanently) cured. We owe to Dodd’s Kidney Pills, all the credit for his restoration to, good health.”

Grass on London Bridge.

London Bridge is the last place Inj the world where one would expect to find grass, but it Is there, nevertheless.) The slight space between the curb and! where the reconstruction work Is going! on Is filled with soil, which has pro-' duced a crop of grass, though, it jmust' be admitted, of scanty proportlonsTrhei traffic of hay over the bridge Is one of the sources of the seed supply.

Piso’s Cure for Consumption promptly. relieves my little 5-year-old sister of croup.—Miss L. A. Pearce, 23 Pilling street, Brooklyn, N. Y., Oct. 2, 1901.

Honeyed words sometimes sting.

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