St. Joseph County Independent, Volume 21, Number 21, Walkerton, St. Joseph County, 14 December 1895 — Page 2

- — J * WRITE HER EVERY DAY. .Comrade, hare you got a wife? Write her every day, Half the joy is out her life When you are away; (Write her from the speeding ear; Never mind the thump and jar (Which your loving letters mar— P Write her every day. (You are in the stirring world, She at home must stay, * Conscious you are being whirled Farther yet away. There she’s watching, waiting, list'ning, (With heart beating, with eyes glist’ning, Quick to catch the postman’s glist’ning— Write her every day. (Would you some kind service render, Sweet attention pay? Then a loving letter send her When you are away; Would you all her home life brighten? Would you all her sorrows lighten? 'Bonds of sweet affection tighten? Write her every day. (And, however far you wander, i I am sure ’twould pay, XJould you see her read and ponder Over what you say: Have your tablet in your grip, (Fountain pen charged to the tip, Then don't let the chances slipWrite her every day. If you chance to gush a little— And perhaps you may— She will grant you full acquittal, It is safe to say; TV rite her genuine love letters, Riveting anew love's fetters; These are Cupid’s best abetters— Write her every day. —Travelers’ Magazine. “BOSS.” A rough, brown dog sat at the very edge of the tumble-down breakwater. He was looking steadily seaward. He was evidently old, aud he was scarred Iby many tights, but his sunken mouth, tfrom which he had lost many teeth, showed that he would not light again, victoriously. He was gaunt from a life of Insufficient food, but yet he had the ait-of a •dog who is loved. Sometimes he turned from his gaze «t the sea and glanced behind him at a child who was sitting in a wheelbar•row a few feet away. Every time he glanced thus he slightly wagged his •tump of a tail, and the child smiled, or •he said in a soft voice: “Good Boss!” And then Boss wagged harder; but he could not give much attention to his companion, for his whole heart was •with that bent old woman who was up to her waist In the water by the outermost ledge. It was there that the Irish moss grew, and at low tide the woman could gather it. She thrust her arm down to the shoulder each time rfor her handful of moss. She was wet, sodden wet, save for a small place ■ cross ber back. She had a man’s straw hat fastened n>y a small rope tightly under her chin. Her face looked a hundred years old, ft was in truth seventy—old, seamed •nd leathery; and it was a face you (loved to look at. Every few moments she raised her Read and put her dripping hand up over her eyes as she turned toward the land; she was at first dazzled by the glare of t*ie water. When she looked up thus <he little girl in the wheelbarrow always waved her hat; then a dim, beau’tiful smile would come in the faded •eyes. “It’s jest a doin’ of her lots of good,” •he would say aloud. “I'm awful glad I wheeled her down. I wish now I’d brought her down oftener this summer.” Twice as she looked shoreward, she called out shrilly: “Boss, you take care of her; won't you, Boss?” Then Boss pricked up his ears and «liook his tail, and the girl laughed and •said she guessed she ’n’ Boss could git ■along first-rate. “We're use't to it, ain’t we. Boss?” When she said this the dog got up. came to her side, gave her a swift lick across the cheek, then hurried back and sat down on the edge of the planks again. Once the woman out in the water slipped aud fell splashing, and Boss jumped up, whining in a piteous quaver, ■nd would not be comforted even when the child said soothingly: “Never mind, old fellow!” But when the woman floundered to iier feet again and cried “all right!” the dog sat down. Sthl he frequently 6?ave a little whine under his breath. Ho was thinking that this was the first summer when he had gone out mossing with his dearest friend, and he eould not understand why he was so stiff and clumsy; that he was unable to run over the slippery rocks and keep elose to her, nosing the moss she picked ap, poking over lobsters and crabs, and seeing that nothing happened to her. Something was the matter with his legs, end with the whole of him, somehow, and he could not got over the rocks. Was it the same thing that kept him (from gnawing bones? And he liked ■them Just as well as ever. He noticed that the young dog who lived down the xoad could crack bones without any trouble. It was all very mysterious. When he lay in the sun near where the moss was drying, dozing aud snapping at the flies, he often, looked as if &e were thinking of all these things. Aud what did the girl's grandmother anean only yesterday when she had stroked his head and said: ‘Toor old Boss! You’re gittin’ old,, fes’s I be. ’Twon't be no kind of a place round this house ’th out Boss.” He had muzzled his head under her •hand when she had spoken thus, but 3m didn’t understand. ■Wot pleasant this bright day was ■with Its sunny, gentle east wind—a •wind that brought sweet, salt smells Srom the ocean. । The child sniffed the bracing odor

and stretched out her hands, smiling happily, * To be sure, she couldn’t walk, but granny wheeled her to the breakwater, where she could see the moss gathered.' It was a low course of tides, and now the wat had gone far out so that one could get to one of the ledges where the moss grew. Granny had no boat as most of the mossers had—there were some boats now farther along, and little Molly could see the mon put their long-han-dled ropes down and draw them up full. She knew that those mon made more money than her grandmother, but then, she didn't know much about money. Some of the neighbors often said that they themselves couldn’t afford to keep a dog. When they said this granny shut her lips tight, and the first chance she had she would stroke the dog's head. “I guess they don’t know much about a dog,” she told Molly, “’n’ I guess's long's we got anything to eat, Boss'll have some of it; eh, old feller?” Molly sank back on her pillow’ In the barrow. She amused herself by almost closing her eyes so that the sea seemed to come up nearer, and crimpie in sparks of fire. Then she would open her lids wide, and the groat stretch of water would flash blindingly on her vision. She played at this for a long time; and always in front of her was the dog; she had grown up in the conviction that all was well if he was near. Soon everything grew deliciously dim and then clear, and the salt smell was sweeter, and she was walking over the hard sand as straight as anybody, holding her head up strongly. She did not know she was asleep. It was real to her that she was walking. Suddenly she sat upright In her wheelbarrow’, clutching the sides of it. Boss was not there. Had he barked? Or had someone called? She looked off to the ledge. She saw Boss leaping frantically over the weedy rocks. He went as if he were a young dog—he went like a creature possessed. He seemed not to leap, but to fly from one rock to another, over the still, green pools. Molly could see the dog, and beyond him, shining water. Where was granny?’ The child tried to scream, but she felt as if in a nightmare, and could not make a sound. Oh! there was something down between the rocks on the far side of the ledge. It was there that Boss was going. And there was the mosser in his boat, putting his rake down just as he had been doing when the child had gone to sleep. For an instant she thought she was dreaming. But Boss was gone and—yes—there was something among the rocks—it was granny’s hat sticking up; and it did not move. j Molly tried again to scream, and It was as if ber heart would break in the trying. Her voice was only a hoarse kind of a whisper. But there! Boss has reached his friend. He tried to pull her out. He could not. Between his attempts he barked, he howled; nay, he screamed. Was his heart breaking also? At last the mosser out there held his rope just above the water and gazed towards the shore, listening. The wind was off th sea aud sounds from the land did not come clearly. The man saw little Molly Towne on the breakwater. Had sho cried out? And was that the Towne dog carrying on so on the rocks? Boss was down by the still figure that was lying in the shallow pool. He was struggling with it, making frantic efforts to pull it from the water. Outlined on the breakwater, against the dazzle of the blue sky, the man saw Molly rise up in her barrow as if she would walk, and then fall back again. “Good God!" he cried. He dropped the rope into the water, caught up his oars and rowed to the ledge. All the time he rowed ho saw Mrs. Towne’s motionless form lying there, and the dog trying to help her. As he stepped out of his boat and ; began slipping and jumping over the j rocks, the woman moved and raised her head. He saw her reach out her hand to the dog; he saw the dog throw himself down and lick her face ly“That you, Jim Stowell?” she asked, “I guess I've broken my leg. I slipped. I’ve mossed twenty year, ’n’ I never slipped to speak of before.” She spoke tremblingly, but with pride. “I s’pose I fainted, or something.” “I’ll git you right into the boat,” said Jim Stowqjl briskly, “ ’n’ take you home in no time.” Boss stood close by watching the man. Mrs. Towne looked to the shore, saw the child, waved her hand and called cheerily, “all right!” And Molly shook her handkerchief feebly, though she tried to shake it vigorously. “I do hope she didn’t see me fall,” said the woman. It was not easy to get her into the boat, and she winced and grew pale, but she helped all she could and made no sound. When she was in at last, Jim took up his oars to go round to the sandy landing. There stood Boss shivering on a rock. All at once he appeared older than ever; It seemed as if he could hardly stand. “Take him, too,” said his mistress. “No, let him walk.” “I want you to take him, I tell you,” almost fiercely. “He's too old ’n’ stiff to walk on the rocks.” “Oli!” with a laugh. “You oughter seen him goin’ after you!” The man began to row. Tears came into Mrs. Towne's eyes. Her voice was choked. “You've got to take him,” she said, “or you needn't take me,” “Oh- if you feel like that ” Jim

lifted the dog Into the boat, and Rosa crouched down by his friend, who put her hand on him. He leaned more and more heavily on her; his eyes were fixed on her face. She had flung up her hand again to the child. Lying there on the wet moss at the bottom of the boat she could look, without moving, into the dog’s face. He pressed yet closer. With a curiously quick movement she managed to draw him even nearer. She bent her head to his head. “Ho lays too hard on ye!” said Jim, j “lem me pull him away.” “Don't touch him!” she cried In a| sharp voice. 1 The next moment she said hoarsely;] “He’s dead.”—Maria Louise Tool, Inj the Chap Book. j SQUIRRELS ARE SHREWD. q It Takes a Smart Hunter to Get a Shot! at Bushytail. “Os course,” said the hunter, “every! body knows that when a man gun comes along rrn souirre^r „ around on the other side of the tl' • He doesn’t get killed if he can hel^# ; and he can help himself pretty we I remember once coming across a gn J squirrel up a big oak; he was out on branch about forty feet from tb R ground. He saw me as quick as I di j him—quicker, I guess—and when Iwi s ready to fire he was around on tl e other side of the branch. This brant was very small, only a little bigger thg n the squirrel, but lie hugged it so ch£ 0 and he was in such perfect line me that you couldn't see anythin® i him at all except a little bit of tlq» o , of his tail that was blown out <. In * strong wind. I blazed away at h and never touched him. Then I w< nt around ou the other side of the tr, e thinking that possibly I could get a shot at him from there, but as I w®L t one way he went the other, and by time I had got over on the other sideh, o was on the side I hail come from in just as perfect line with me as he ^ a3 at first, aud just as safe. I tried j- n! again with just the same result. J “Then I pulled a stake out of a ra j] fence near by and planted it in L | 10 ground on one side of the tree and hL n g my coat on it, and went myself « ver to the other side; I thought thatL OS . sibly I might make the squirrel there wore two men there, or putk^ in doubt long enough to enable n R get a shot at him, but he never the slightest attention to the coa. j don’t suppose it would have made an y difference to him if I’d opened a (^j,. ing store there; he knew 'the man^-j^, the gun, and it was the gun that hf was looking out for. Well, we ’ljuged around that tree for quite a spe^ on g. er. There wasn’t any other G^‘^ ueai by that the squirrel could he knew his only safety lay to the one he was in, and lie did stick to It and keep arotne^ijprnys on the other side of that branch was something wonderful. 1 fired five or six shots at him altogether amHftlled the branch under him half full of shot, but never touched him, and when I I thought 1 had wasted time and ammu- ■ nit ion enough 1 left him.”- New York I Sun. Anot her Interpretation. What is commonly called inspiration may sometimes be only another name ‘ for conceit. An uneducated young far- < mer presented himself at a Presbyterian conference and said he wanted to Ibe ordained as a preacher. “I ain’t i had any great learning,” he said, frankly, “but I reckon I'm called to preach. I’ve had a vision three nights running; that's why I am here.” “What was your vision?” inquired one of the elders. “Well,” said the young man, “I dreamt I see a big, round ring in the sky, and in the middle of it were two groat letters—P. C. I knew that meant Presbyterian Conference, and here I j am.” There was an uncomfortable pause, which was broken by an elder who knew the young man, and was well acquainted with the poverty of h.'s family and the neglected condition of ; their farm. “I have not any gift at i reading visions,” said the old man, gravely, as he rose from his seat, “but I'd like to put It to my young friend ; whether he doesn't think it possible i those two letters may have stood for 'Plant Corn'?” This version was finally accepted by the applicant. Canceled the Decree. One of the Portuguese kings—whohaa Semitic blood in his veins—mtiri^d a bigoted wife, who once persuad(A*him to order the banishment of all .‘tews, and to issue a decree commandlngßhat all those who wore in any way ‘Tainted” with Hebrew blood should Wear white bats, in order that they might'be recognized and subjected to ostracism. The prime minister, finding remonstrances ineffective, pretended compliance with the edict, and, presenting himself before his majesty, drew forth from under his cloak two white hats, which he solemnly placed upon the table. The astonished king inquired the meaning of the extraordinary action of the premier. Said the latter: “I have come prepared to obey your majesty's commands, with one hat for you and the other for myself.” The king had the good sense to laugh and to cancel the decree concerning the hats. Forgot Himself. Archbishop Trench was a victim of absent-mindedness. Dining at homo one evening, he found fault with the flavor of the soup. Next evening he dined out at a large dinner-party. Forgetting for the moment that lie was not In his own house but a guest, he observed across the table to Mrs. Trench: “This soup is, my dear, again a failure.” Some men wQio are so attached to a farm that rather than give it up they will spike it down with a morujaga.

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MEN are frequently very inconof those they care for - most. This lack of feeling does Pi not indicate any lack of affection, but S rather a thoughtlessness that they would gladly correct if the way were pointed out. for them. 'This is just what : we mean to do this morning, as it has , ■ been brought before our notice in a | 1 peculiar way that young members of I the stronger sex need a reminder of ' 1 their remissness in their duty to the 1 women whom they some day expect to • call their wives. Now, some one undoubtedly remarks, i । “Sho is going to talk to the engaged ■ > men,” and there some one makes a ; great mistake, though a natural one. ‘ i When we made reference to the women whom they some day expect to call their wives, it was misleading, no 1 doubt, but to put all vagueness aside ' let us come to the point, and give tne ! thoughtless derelict a good sound scold- ■ ing. Men, young or advanced in years, j ought to lie made to realize that they ' have no right to monopolize a girl’s so- ■ ciety, treat her with a marked tender- ; ness and place her before the eyes of ; the public in the light of a fiancee if । they are not willing to have their en gagement announced to the whole ; world. There is a case within the circle of , our own acquaintance of a pair so de- ! voted to each other that it is but reason- ' able to suppose that they are engaged, but the girl opened her heart to the writer the other day, and in indignant protest declared that as fond as she was of the man in Question she could not for her own sake let him go on in the way that compromised her in the eyes of her friends. "I know he in tends to marry me, but he has not asked , me yet right out to be his wife. By a hundred little ways and signs 1 know lie has no other thought for me save to marry me some day, but I can't say this to people when they ask if we arc engaged, and so I just feel that it is my duty to break with him. but what exvuau have I for so doins;. 1 can t ।

CLOTH OUTDOOR COSTUME.

tell him the real reason. That would be too much like begging him to propose to me, but don't .von see I can't go on as we have been doing. If I were really engaged to him I wouldn't mind waiting a thousand years, if such a fate were necessary, but this horribly equivocal position is more than I can stand.” There is the ease in a nut shell, and there are thousands more like it. Men, if you love a woman well enough to marry her, don't place her in a light that will be detrimental to her. Until you car. become engaged, refrain from paying attentions that are so marked that they keep other admirers away, and cause her many unpleasant personal queries from those most interest- j ed in her. It isn’t manly, it isn’t fair, ■ and when you take in some certain woman’s society to monopolize her without a definite understanding between you and a willingness to have an engagement made public you are stooping to something that is unworthy, ami causes the objects of your mistaken devotion many more hours of anxiety than of pleasure. Philadelphia Times. A Home-made Crib. A prettjrjiome-made crib can be made of an old washbasket or the bottom of an old baby carriage. To make this, secure from a carpenter four stout wooden legs, the height to suit yourself, put casters or rollers in one end of each securely with screws, fasten the legs to the four corners of the bottom of the basket. Paint it carefully with two coats of white enamel, gild parts of it if you desire with gold leaf pubatitute. Then for the curtain or

valance to hide the improvised legft and to.be placed around the bottom of the basket, slightly full, with small tacks three yards of baby blue or pink slikaline or quantity according I to the height of the body from tlfe floor | and just to escape the same, finished i with a quarter-inch hem, which will wear better than pinking. “ Don’ts” for the New Woman. Don't neglect your husband. Don't crease your bloomers. I Don’t discuss private affairs. Don t grumble about your meals. Don't sit while men are standing. ) Don't scold when dinner is kite. Don't wear ready-made neckties. Don't swear at the polite salesman. Don't pull your husband’s whiskers. i 1 >on't use a cigarette for a door key. Don’t think it is manly to be dissi- ! paled. Don't wear a high hat with a sack i coat. Don’t smoke on the front seats on i open cars. Don't forget that the new woman ' must grow old. Don't carry the morning paper downj town with you. Don't smoke in a room where there I are lace curtains. Don't object to your husband attending the matinees. Don't swear when you find a button off your bloomers. Don't make things disagreeable for your husband’s mother. Don't leave stale cigar and cigarette butts about your rooms. Don't neglect to tip the waiter. It is womanly not to do so. Don’t tell your husband about “the i biscuits your father used to bake.” Don't got up at daylight and kindle ! tlie fire. That is man's work. Don't work off a lot of stale jokes when he makes his first cake. A Helpful SiigKcetlon. Where there is a family of girls at homo it is a good plan to allow each one । In I urn to assume the responsibility of

housekeeping for a certain time, and to keep the accounts for it accurately. It. is right that girls should be made to take a share of responsibility concerning household tasks, and the experience will be of great value to them when they have houses of their own. Let them, therefore, have a month at a time in succession, charge of the mending, cooking, besides housekeeping—all, of course, under proper supervision. Dainty Hair Mounts. Extremely pretty hair ornaments, or mounts, as they are called, are on sale. It is decreed that steel, gilt, silver and jot should be worn in dark hair.'and amber and clear tortoise shell in light. Both blonde and brunette can wear | jeweled hair ornaments with discrimination. There is a fad for side-combs, and they lengthen apace. The latest side-comb is all of six inches in length. It is made of tortoise shell inlaid with gold, and encircles the head half way. Most explicit directions are given for inserting the side-combs. In order to place them so that they will not drag back the hair tightly and awkwardly, the teeth must point toward the P'.ee or neck. / Jeweled Velvets. 45 A beautiful fabric, which is to be used for broad belts, is made with a groundwork of shaded mauve and pink paillettes, overlaid with a scrollwork in black. I’uce velvet, embroidered with turquoise, amethysts and paste, with pink and blue beads, having 3 long, deep waving fringe, is ready for the fronts of gowns, while a square bodice trimming is of white satin work e<l in turquoise and opals. t ... . ■

SAVED LINCOLN'S LIFE. " The R«ecner Tells the Story with < Correction. However poor the Lincoln home may have been, it affected the new child but little. He was robust and active; and life is full of interest to the child happy enough to be born in the country, says McClure's Magazine. He hud several companions. There was his sister Nancy, or Sarah—both names are given * her—two years his senior; there was a cousin of his mother's, ten years older, Dennis Hanks, an active and ingenious leader in sports and mischief; and there were the neighbors’ boys. One of the latter, Austin Gollaher, still tells with pleasure of how he hunted coons and ran the woods with younj; Lincoln; and once even saved his life.’ "Yes,” said Mr. Gollaher, “the story that I once saved Abraham Lincoln's life is true, but it is not correct as generally related. , “Abraham Lincoln and I had been ■ going to school together for a year or l more, and had become greatly attached • to each other. Then school disbanded r on account of there being so few sehol- - ars, and we did not see each other I much for a long while. One Sunday iny mother visited the Lincolns, and I wan taken along, Abe and I played arount all day. Finally, we concluded to cross the creek to hunt for some partridges young Lincoln had seen the day before. The creek had swollen by a recent rain, and, in crossing on the narrow footlog, Abe fell in. Neither of us could swim. I got a long pole and held it out to Abe, who grabbed it. Then I pulled him ashore. He was almost dead, and I was badly scared. I rolled and pounded him in good earnest. Then I got him by the arms and shook him, the water meanwhile pouring out of his mouth. By this time I succeeded in bringing him to, and he was soon all right. ■ “Then a new difficulty confronted us. If our mothers discovered our wet clothes they would whip us. This wo dreaded from experience, and determined to avoid. It was June, the sun was very warm, and we soon dried our clothing by spreading it on the rocks about us. We promised never to tell the story, and I never mentioned the incident to any one until after Lincoln's tragic end. “Abraham Lincoln had a sister. Iler name was Sallie, and she was a very pretty girl. She went to school when she could, which was not often. “Yes, if you must know Sallie Lincoln was my sweetheart. She was about my age. I loved her and claimed her as boys do. I suppose that was one reason for my warm regard for Abe. When the Lincoln family moved to Indiana, I was prevented by circumstances from bidding good-by to either of the children. And I never saw them again.” Solace for tlie Stupid. After all, oven the cleverest peopla have their dull moments. Witness the brilliant Dean Stanley, who had such an inaptitude for figures that, as his biographer expressed it, he never could understand the difference between eighteen pence and one-and-eightpence. “My father and Lady Elizabeth,” writes Miss Hlgeworth in one of her lively letters, “counted so quickly at cribbage that I never was able to keep up with them and made a sorry figure.” If such superior minds had their weak points, inferior ones may well claim allowance. And tiresome as the stupid may be, they have their special uses. So thought the man who. when asked who his banker was, replied. “Mr. So-and-so; and if I knew a stupider man I would go to him.” In his opinion stupidity and safeness were synonymous. Cleverness is by no means always welcome. “Pray let us get away from this fatiguing man,” was the sotto-voce remark we once heard a poor young lady make, who had been an unwilling listener throughout all the courses at dinner, to a too instructive father. It la generally admitted that clever men prefer stupid wives. There is at times an undoubted charm in “gentle dullards." We can talk to our kind, stupid friends with the pleasing consciousness that if w e have lost or mislaid some of our facts they will never miss them; that if our arguments leak a little and will not hold water, they will never find it out; aud that our own commonplaces which we give them in exchange for theirs Will be received with due respect. Their Si'ciety may not be improving, but it is extremely comfortable. Trips Around the Wo^m^^^^ I’s 'ple who have heads or out of them/Xvlu mania for making trips around mu world. The latest feat is to be attorn^- ’ ed by two Frenchmen, one of whom is accompanied by his wife, who starred from the Place de la Concorde in Paris to girdle the earth in a wheelbarrow. They are to take turns at pushing the machine, and are going first to Switzerland, then Italy, Persia and China. From Canton they take passage to San Francisco and from there go southward to Buenos Ayres, where they sail for Havre, thus completing the grand tour, which will at least have the charm of having been accomplished by a novel means of travel. Rams in a Duel. Two prize rams in Pike County, Pennsylvania, fought a duel to ths death. Their method of combat was to back off from each other a distance of thirty to fifty feet, and then run full tilt together, head to head. Finally one ram dropped dead with a completely smashed head. Consolation. Site—“l really don’t think I shall tak» part again in theatricals;-1 always feel fts though I were making a fool of myself.” He—“ Oh. everybody thinks that!”-» Pick-Me-Up.