The Syracuse Journal, Volume 4, Number 20, Syracuse, Kosciusko County, 14 September 1911 — Page 6

m Rover’s ijj ft Match-Making Uj By FLORENCE McALLYN (jj “I never could understand, Deborah, ■what you ever saw in that homely black dog to make a fuss over,” remarked Mrs. Bryce scornfully, as she examined with severely critical glances a rough-coated little terrier of Uncertain pedigree. “Well, he ain’t, much to look at,” admitted Miss Lincoln, “but there’s a power of comfort in Rover. It’s awful lonesome in a house where there’s nothing but one woman and a shadow for company.” The visitor seated herself in a cane irocker and expressed her sentiments ion the subject by a contemptuous isniff, while Rover’s mistress, whose rosy cheeks and bright brown eyes bespoke the cheerful spirit within her, apologetically smoothed the folds in her blue and white gingham apron, and puckered her lips, as she had a habit of doing, when things -perplexed her: i “You’ve always had a fancy for homely things,” continued Mrs. Bryce. “I never shall Jorget the time I came over here to ask how your mother was, and you and her both sat on the bed together, crying over thKit old yellow Cat. My lands!. I can see U now as it lay dead on the floor.” “I know,” murmured Deborah, “mother thought a heap of Mary Ellen. She was a dreadful smart cat.” “Then there was old Billy,” persisted Mrs. Bryce. “Just look how you fussed over that horse, time he took sick. And homely wasn’t a strong enough name for him. A knock’'lrneed, raw-boned old creature.” “Poor old Billy!” sighed Deborah. “He’d been as faithful as any Christian in his work. Pulled father and mother to and from meeting, rain or snow; plowed and helped reap. No wondef I felt sorry for him. He knew more than a lot of humans.” Mrs. Bryce pushed back, with a quick, impatient jerk, her big shade hat, in' which red and yellow corn poppies struggled for the mastery. Argument was to her like a fire spark to powder. ) “The worst of all was that Hank Andrews,” she cried. “When I remember what a pretty girl you were in your ways and think of him so ugly and with sandy hair. It’s a good thing you and him quarreled, Deborah, and broke it off. You’re saved a heap of trouble. He’s come back here now and I never saw a more miserable old man than he is this minute. You may be thankful the burden jot tending to Mm is off your hands.” Deborah said nothing for a few moments. Then she turned the conversation adroitly? into other channels. “How’s Johnny’s sore throat?” she inquired sympathetically. Like a river whose waters have been guided into another course, the torrent of Mrs. Bryce’s eloquence now flowed blandly into the welcome topic of Johnny’s ailments. She informed Deborah, with conscientious minuteness of detail, how and under ■what circumstances her youngest boy was liable to attacks from cold, and in what respect he differed from Amy, whose specialty was recurrent fits of cramp. Deborah listened attentively to the recital of the ills of the Bryce family and sighed in sympathy at intervals. This course of treatment had its effect, and by the time Mrs. Bryce arose to go, she had talked herself into a good humor and actually patted Rover on the head. “You’re real good, Deborah,” she remarked, “and I guess like enough I riled you about that dog. My tongue’s a bit sharp at twines.” i The little brown-eyed woman leaned ©ver to stroke Rover with a loving hand and her voice was full of tender cadence as she replied: “Oh, his feelings ain’t hurt, or mine, either. Rover knows as well as I do that we needn’t look for compliments at our age. What—you going, Martha? Well, now, if you want some more of that cough mixture for Johnny, sent right over any time; you’re more than welcome.” Miss Deborah stood on the front porch watching the fast disappearing figure of her visitor as She made her way along the main road toward the village. She paused for a few moments drinking in the sweetness of the summer flowers not knowing that in her own heart there bloomed a fairer flower—the flower of love. Soon she entered the cheery little kitchen and 'began to prepare her modest supppr. Rover followed close at the heels of his mistress every step she took. “Poor Hank!” murmured Deborah. “I guess he is miserable; getting too old*. It’s awful lonesome for him.’ Twenty years ago, and yet it don’t seem that long since he used to give me pink roses every Saturday, night. Once I gave him a lock of my hair. I wonder what he’s done with it.” Timidly, as if ashamed, Deborah turned to an old-fashioned mahogany desk that stood in one corner of the room, and, opening an upper drawer, drew from it a little green pasteboard box in which, half hidden by faded leaves, lay two withered roses.• “I just wonder if he’s angry at me still?” she mused, replacing the lid and returning the box to its hiding place. “We're both of us well on in years anG I’d hate to die without hearing otae word of kindness from him. It I thought I could dare—” she paused midway between the stove and

table, teapot in hand —hep-face shone with the brightness of a new re solve. “If I can find the courage,” she said aloud and firmly, “I’ll do it. I’ll smile when he’s passing by. Maybe I’ll hold out my hand, too.” A sharp, sudden bark vibrated through tho room. Supt>er was late and Rover’s patience was exhausted. “My goodness,” exclaimed Deborah k observing the dog’s erect ears, "1 don’t know how long you’ve been listening or what you heard, but anyhow, I’m sure of one thing. You wop’t tell Martha Bryce.” The sun shone warmly the next day as Deborah busied herself among the flowers in her garden. She was unconscious that coming along the road at a fairly rapid gait was an elderly man carrying a much-used gray umbrella as a defense against the heat of the solar rays. In the shadow of the lilac trees, near Deborah’s wicket gate, sat Rover. . At the sound of the man’s shuffling footsteps he looked up and barked sharply.” “It’s Deborah’s dog,” muttered the man standing behind a maple tree and regarding the top of that lady’s sunbonnet, as it bobbed up and down among the rose bushes, with eager eyes. Another bark from the sentinel at the gate caused his mistress to raise her head. In doing so she caught sight of Hank Andrews, and he paused behind a tree, then, looking ashamed, walked slowly away. A large bunch of pink roses fell to the grass from Deborah’s trembling fingers, and a vivid blush warmed her cheeks under the sunbonnet. “If I had only seen him coming,” was her regretful thought, “but now it’s too late,” and her eyes, teardimmed, followed the retreating figure. “Why, what in the world ails Roves?” she exclaimed the next minute as the dog, with a playfulness which properly belonged to puppyhood, seized several roses in his mouth and. shaking his long ears joyfully, dashed through the fence and up the road. “Good dog,” muttered Hank, “good dog!” A smile which had vanished from his lips in the days of his youth returned again. “Hank!” came in soft accents from the rose garden. “Hank!” He stood up, Suddenly became straight and tall, and let the old umComing Along the Road Was an Elderly Man. brella slip from his grasp. o Then, as he saw the face beaming at him under the shadow of the green sunbonnet and the pleading look in Deborah’s brown eyes, he hesitated no longer. Picking up his umbrella, he retraced his steps and, pushing open the wicket gate, entered what to him was Paradise. “I never got such a surprise,” said Mrs. Martha Bryce to her next door neighbor, “as when I heard Deborah and Hank was going to be married. And no one knows for the life of them how she and him managed to make up after all those years. I asked Deborah and she just laughed and said that Rover was the only one that knew the secret.” Manufacturing Relics. Wherever the trade in relics and cu riosities is brisk the old legal maxim, Caveat emptor (Let the buy take heed), is appropriate. Not all dealers in such w’are are Says a writer in the Youngstown- Tele gram. While in Chattanooga' a few weeks ago a local man noticed an old colored man who carried his right arm in a sling. “What is the matter, uncle?” he asked. “Is your arm broken?” “No, sah,” grinned the old man “It’s jes’ gun-sore.” “Been hunting?” “No, sah. Ah been shotin’ trees.” “Oh, I see; target-practise." “No, sah.” - “Then you’ll have to elucidate.” “We!., sah, it’s like dis,” the old man explained. “WS goes out into de woods an’ shots bullets into de trees. After a while de trees grows round de bullets a little bit, den we cuts dem down to sell to people sum de Norf as relics ob de Battle ob Lookout Mountain.” Surpassing Ordeal. “I have been trying to umpire a game of baseball,” said one summer boarder. “That’s said the other. “They persuaded me to decide a disputed point in a game of croquet.”

New News of Yesterday

Earned Fortune With His Pen

Prof. Ellas Loomis of Yale Made More Than $300,000 by Writing Textbooks Which Had Great Sale. One of the largest, if not actually the largest, bequest made to any American university by an officer of the university was the estate which by his will Prof. Elias Loomis, who died in 1889, bequeathed to Yale University. Professor Loomis was an eccentric and yet very greatly respected member of the Yale faculty for more than a generation. There is no alumnus of Yale whose degree was received between the early sixties and the late eighties who does not recall affectionately and yet with a slight smile of humorous recollection this quaint and ecoentric professor vastly learned in naturai philosophy, mathematics and especially astronomy. Among men of science the world over Professor Loomis ranked with Dan, the great geologist; Hadley, the Greek Scholar and father of Arthur Hadley, president at this time of Yale; and Stillman, one of the world’s great authorities upon chemistry. The United States government recognized Professor Loomis p.s the foremost meteorologist of th’e United States, and when the government established Its first weather bureau this was not done until after consultation with Professor Loomis. Professor Loomis was a man of singular taciturnity. If he could express his thought in a single word, he would do that. Moreover, he led almost a hermit’s life. The world of Yale University saw nothing of him except at chapel, at Sunday services, and in the lecture room. After lectures were ended or the recitations brought to a close, Professor Loomis would depart quietly, always unaccompanied, from the lecture room, crossing New Haven green to his lodging room, which faced the green. He always wore a conspicuous black and white checked necktie, gathered into a bow knot of mathematical accuracy; his linen was immaculate. Within the time specified by statute after the death of Professor Loomis his will was offered for probate. It contained only two bequests, and one of these was a partial one. He bequeathed his entire estate to

Came to McKinley’s Aid

Friends Relieved His Financial Distress) but It Was Messages of Confidence That Kept Him in Public Life. One of the well-known Incidents in the career of William McKinley .was his financial failure during his first term as governor of Ohio. Out of the difficulties of that disaster he was helped by his friends; and how his friends flocked to his assistance, and what was the thing that really kept McKinley in public life at this time, when he was seriously thinking of retiring under the burden of his personal misfortune, are made plain on the authority of E. Prentiss Bailey, the veteran newspaper proprietor and editor of Utica, N. ¥., who now holds the record for the longest consecutive service in the office of any one dally newspaper in the United States. For years Mr. Bailey has enjoyed the confidence of leading men of both great political parties. I “One day in 1893, when I was dining at my hotel in New York city,” said Mr. Bailey, “there walked into the room and sat down at my table my old friend, H. H. Kohlsaat of Chicago, then part owner of the Inter-Ocean of that city. We were in the midst of breakfast and the morning newspapers when, suddenly, Mr. Kohlsaat threw down the paper over which he had been glancing, exclaiming as he did so: “‘This is dreadful news—dreadful!’ “Then, though he was so excited that he could hardly speak, Mr. Kohlsaat told me that he had just read a dispatch from Columbus, Ohio, which reported that Governor William McKinley was bankrupt—that his own fortune was lost and that of his wife had been greatly impaired—and that the governor had decided to give up public life and to turn everything that he possessed over to his creditors* “ ‘No man who knows William McKinley as I do can have the slightest doubt that- if financial ruin has come upon him he has not been himself responsible for it,’ declared Mr. Kohlsaat, adding, ‘His friends must now come to his support.” “With that, Mr. Kohlsaat rose from the table and left the room. After a while he returned and explained that he had Just telegraphed his sympathy to McKinley and told him that ‘onehalf of all I have in the world is yours, yours in whatever way may best serve you in this great emergency.’ Mr. Kohlsaat was still greatly agitated, and without resuming his breakfast, shortly excused himself and went away. “The next time,l saw him —a few years later —he told me of McKinley’s experience immediately following the ■* •-*-■*•* f '■ \

By E. J. EDWARDS

Yale College, one-half of the estate to pass immediately into the possession of the college; in the other half his sons were to have a life interest, the income from it being divided between them, and after that interest lapsed, the entire estate was to go to Ytfte for the purpose of establishing as great and fully equipped an astronomical observatory as the amount of the estate would permit Every one around Yale gasped when he learned the provisions of the will. Had this quiet professor, who had led a lonely life, been able to save out of his salary a sum as great as twenty-five thousand dollars? That was the estimate of the value of the estate commonly made from the nature of the bequest But when the estate was inventoried and the administrators made their reports to the probate court, a most amazing state of affairs was disclosed. The quiet professor had amassed not $25,000, but a fortune a little in excess of’ $300,000; his Investments had been made with wisdom, most of them were what are called quick assets. And one after another of his old faculty associates went about asking how had It been possible for Professor

Only One Postmaster Then

Until Grant’s Second Term the Per- , sons In Charge of Offices Were but Deputies of the Postmaster General. “Do you know that until the latter part of Grant’s second administration there was only one postmaster In the United States?” The questioner was James Henry Marr, who had entered the postoffice department as a clerk under Amos Kendall, Jackson’s last postmaster general, risen to first assistant postmaster general under President Grant, and at the time he put this question was chief clerk to t*e first assistant postmaster general in Cleveland’s first administration. “Yes,” continued Mr. Marr, from the foundation of the federal government until the latter part of Grant’s second administration—nearly 100 years—the country had but one official postmaster,

publication of the news that he had lost his fortune. Telegrams by the hundred poured in upon the governor. Many came from Democrats who were his bitter political enemies; many others were sent by persons with whose names McKinley was not familiar; and and all offered financial assistance, almost every one urged him not to give up public life, and every one of the dispatches—and the letters that soon began to flow in—assured him that he stood high in the estimation of the American people, and that his misfortune would speedily make that fact apparent to him. “Several men of financial ability, as is well known, undertook the managementof McKinley’s affairs and financed him out of his embarrassment. Undoubtedly, many persons believe that it was the action of these men that persuaded McKinley to remain in public life. But It was not, and I have Mr. Kohlsaat’s word for it. It was, rather, the many messages of confidence that came from all parts of the country that persuaded McKinley that it was his duty to remain in public life as long as the people wished him to continue there. After these messages had poured in upon him, and he had had time to realize what they meant, he fell that he could not justly resist those touching evidences of widespread confidence in his personal integrity.” \ (Copyright, 1911, by E. J. Edwards. AH Rights Reserved.) Thackeray’s Mistakes. Thackeray probably wrote the prettiest and most legible hand of any distinguished author; a commentator on the MSS, shown at the Thackeray exhibition describes it as being “as free from reprd&ch as his English.” But the master of the easiest and most flexible style in English fiction occasionally made careless and irritating slips. He wrote “different to,” which is a common and quite unaccountable mistake, and “compared to,” which is as bad. No one would think of saying or writing “compare this to' that," yet you find “compared to” in print every day in the week. And he also fell into the common error of making the surname plural instead of the prefix—the “Miss Potters,” for Instance, in “The Newcomes,” instead of the “Misses Potter.” Would anybody write the “Mr. Potters?” Why should the ladles be so mishandled. The Retort. “I don’t see how you can enjoy grand . opera when you can’t understand the words.” “Didn’t you ever enjoy a dish of hash without knowing what was in it?”

Loomis to accumulate so large an estate as that It was known that hs had Inherited nothing and that, how; ever the estate was gained by him, It was the result of his own savings oi work. Not until some time after the probating of the estate did the true explanation of the manner in which his fortune had been accumulated begin to be made in a sort of confidential way to the inner circle at Yale college. Then it was said: “Professor Loomis was one of the most successful of the writers of American text books, not only from the scholarly point of view, but from that of business. His text books upon mathematics and astronomy, his text books upon meteorology and allied sciences, had a sale wherever the English language was spoken, a sale the magnitude of which was known only io Professor Loomis and his publishers.” And in clearing vp the estate evidence was also obtained among some of Professor Loomis’ papers tending to show that at the time when he began to write text books he had no other purpose in view than the making of Yale University the beneficiary of all of his earnings from the books, subject to a life interest in a part of the estate which his sons were to have. (Copyright. 1911, by E. J. Edwards.’ All Rights Reserved.)

though during cthat period there were many individuals’ who were that postmaster. The postmaster of the United States during all that time was always none other than the postmaster general. “But at one time during that period, If it had not been for John C. Calhoun, the law which designated the postmaster general as the postmaster of the United States would have been regarded as a dead letter and tneated accordingly. “A short time after Mr. Calhoun had resigned the vice-presidency of the United States and been elected senator from South Carolina—that was In 1832—he one day entered the office of the postmaster general, Amos Kendall. Mr. Calhoun’s long, dark hair was brushed straight back from his forehead; his eyes looked like two burning coals of fire. I was with Mr. Kendall; Mr. Calhoun spoke most courteously to me—he was courteous to everybody—and then turned to the postmaster general. “’Mr. Postmaster General,’ he said, 1 have just noticed a disposition to make out Improperly commissions to those appointed to take charge of postoffices throughout the country. Mr. Postmaster General, you are the only postmaster in the United States; your successor will be the only postmaster; all men appointed to take immediate charge of the various postofflees throughout the country are, under the law, deputy postmasters, and nothing more.. The man in charge of the postoffice at New York is a deputy postmaster; so Is the man in charge of the postoffice at Philadelphia. Let us say that, probably by Inadvertence, a commission has just been made out appointing a man postmaster. I desire to have that corrected. No man under the law can qualify or take charge of a postoffice under the designation of “postmaster." Until now, so far as I know, no commission has been made out since I have been in public life by which any one has qualified to take charge of any postoffice in the country except under the title of “deputy postmaster.” And if it is possible for me to prevent.it, no commission shall be made out in any other way.’ “Mr. Kendall thanked the great Calhoun for calling the matter to his attention, and assured him that all commissions to appointees to take charge of postoffices should be made out In strict accordance with the law; and that way they were made in ©very case, to my personal knowledge, as long as Calhoun lived. “Furthermore, I had,ocaslon not long ago to look over the records relating to the appointment of men to take charge of postoffices. I found that ar late as Gen. Grant’s second administration the postmaster general was the sole postmaster of the United States, all the so-called postmasters throughout the country being set down in the records as deputy postmasters. But in Grant’s second administration the law was changed so It became legal to drop the word ’deputy,’ and the unique distinction that the postmaster general bad enjoyed for nearly a century of legally being the country’s only postmaster was lost to, him.” (Copyright, 1911, by E. J. Edward*. AU Rights Reserved.) Would Kill Her. Sympathetic Visitor—Mrs. A, what do you suppose makes you suffer so? Mrs. A.—l don’t know. I’m sure, and I believe nothing but a post mortem will ever show. 8. V. —You poor thing! You are so weak you could never stand that. Good Enough for the Doctor. Mr. Ghout —All my money cannot give me health, doctor?” Dr. Bolus —No, perhaps not; but it is of inestimable value, neverthelesa It gives us physicians great conft dence. —Stray Stories.

WINDY CITY APPALLED HER Young Western Girl Dravrs Up an Indictment of Chicago and Its People. Chicago.—The restraints and conventionalities of the city and the freedom and naturalness of the country are as antipodean as the east and west of Kipling. Take the average healthy-minded person from the atmosphere of the mountains, the plains, the forests and lakes and place him in the rush and strife of a great city, with the noises of tumultous life in his ears and knowing that while there is much of virtue and goodness among the rushing thousands that go by there is also much of selfishness and duplicity and deception and hate and envy and maliciousness, and he will wish to be back again where man is more natural and living more of a joy. That is the experience that Silver Dollar Tabor recently had in Chicago. She grew up in the unconventional west and from childhood was accustomed to wearing men’s clothes and handling a pistol. Much of her time was spent about the mining camps and she was known as “the queen of the miners. When she visited Chicago she had had no personal knowledge of a big city and she now wishes to forget the knowledge she acquired. She found Chicago big and ugly. Its air compared with her own mountain air was impure. She hated the constant dodging of automobiles and street cars and believes she would be safer shooting grizzly bears than walking the streets. But she found other things disagreeable. She found, she says, that money is the god of Chicago and that manhood and womanhood and character are not appreciated at their true worth. There is too much artificiality in the men and women of the big city, and she is severe in her condemnation of the way women devote themselves to amusements. She says work in the "’west is fun—in Chicago it is purgatory; and it was with a light heart she returned to the west where people are natural and may be polite and courteous and somplimentary without being hypomites. ' BULLET IN THE TREE’S CORE Piece of Wood Bearing Missile From the Leaden-Swept Field of Gettysburg. Gettysburg, Pa.—This piece of wood with a bullet imbedded in it is a piece of a tree that stood on the battlefield of Gettysburg in what was called the ’slaughter pen.” It is a faint remindof the musketry fire which at times Mjl Ih I lit Ini ill | 1 From Gettysburg’s Battlefield. swept the region between Cemetery Ridge and Seminary Ridge; for many trees, bitten and gouged by bullets the greater destruction caused by the artillery is not here referred to show their scars to this day. Os course, with the passage of the years the effects of small-arms wounds on trees, if not too serious, were quickly healed and covered by kindly nature with new growth. Vast Cave Is Discovered. Hartland, Conn. —Trout fishermen who have been following the Farmington river through the Tunxis valley here have discovered a hitherto unknown cave along the river’s bank. The cave is of immense proportions, spreading in several directions far be neath the earth.

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Would Purchase Index Fingv. One of the queerest advertisements ’ which has ever appeared in a newspaper was one which the other day made known the wish of Mrs. Reginald Waldorf, a wealthy lady of Philadelphia, for a new index finger, Mrs. W’aldorf’s right forefinger was amputated after becoming infected by an accidental cut with a rusty knife. She appealed to Dr. Fred B. West, who advertised for a finger. He names . no price, but says his patient is will- ' tng to pay liberally. Unexpected Company. Does it “break up the day and prevent you from getting your work done” when unexpected callers drop in? Hewitt’s Easy Task' Soap will help you make up the time lost while you entertained. It makes a nice, white, fluffy suds that goes after the dirt and gets It. It’s as good for the dishes as it is for the laundry and won’t hurt your hands a bit. Five cents a cake at the grocery. Reckoning by Degrees. It was one of those warm spring days when the temperature suddenly eeems unbearably torrid. Thelma, four years of age, broke off her play to plead thus with her mother: “Oh, mother, please lt-t me take off of my clothes! ' I’m a whole petticoat too Lot!” Stop the Pain. The hurt of a burn or a cut stopx when Cole's Cart>olisalvo Is applied. It heals quiekly and prevents scars. 25c and 50c by druggists. For f.’ee sample write to J. W. Cole & Co.. Black River Falls, Wis. Nothing can b»> so inspiring iO a human being as the idea that he is of value, that his help is really wanted. —Oliver Lodge.

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