The Syracuse Journal, Volume 4, Number 39, Syracuse, Kosciusko County, 25 January 1912 — Page 6

Syracuse Journal W. G. CONNOLLY, Publisher. SYRACUSE INDIANA. KEEP THEIR GUNS AT HAND Secretaries of Cabinet Members May Need Them Any Time in Dealing With Cranks. Five out of the nine well groomed •nd gentlemanly private secretaries of members of President Taft's cabinet keep loaded revolvers handy >n their desks every day of the year. They do not often use them, but there are just enough cranks around Washington and its departments to make a revolver feel good to the tone occasionally. Robert O. Bailey, private secretary to Franklin MacVeagh, secretary of the treasury, keeps his even handier -than a desk drawer. If you were to step back of the big mahogany desk at which Mr. Bailey works you would find a small shelf to the right beside his knee. Upon it there is a businesslike looking .38 caliber revolver. It ' has been there ever since Mr. Bailey was visited last summer by a man who demanded to see Secretary MacVeagh that he might get “a license for free speech.” Mr. Bailey was alone in’the office on a midsummer day. Into it dashed a disheveled individual who had long neglected the art of the safety razor and who was plainly looking for trouble. He rushed up to desk and, crowding close to Mr. Bailey, brought his fist violently down upon the blotter and shouted: “I demand a permit for free speech.” “All right,,” said Mr. Bailey; “go ahead.” I This seemed to be a surprise to the man, who showed a desire to shoot up the place. He recovered himself and stepped back a few paces. Then he began an oration. It lasted ten minutes. At a halt Mr. Bailey put in: “Fine; that’s the way. You are all right.” ’ The crank accepted the verdict, made a deep bow and walked out of the'room. Tests for Jurors. Probably every reader knows one or more persons of- wide culture and ’ sound judgment who are notoriously bad spellers. At times it seems as IT the art of spelling correctly were * i. natural gift rather than an attainment. It is curious, therefore, that correct spelling should be considered an essential qualification for jury duty. Yet that is the view of counsel who are examining candidates for the jury which Is to try the meat packers in Chicago. | Several citizens summoned for examination were asked to spell and define the following words: Irrelevant, elimdnation, evcessive, presumption, credibility, inadequate, elucidate, artificially, untrammeled, interstate. It is quite possible that some of the prospective jurors knew the meaning but not the orthography of those test words. All of this in support of the ?ontentlon that bad spelling is not necessarily a proof of general ignorance. American Soldier of Fortune. Gen. Homer Lea, U. S. A. (retired), now said to be a prominent figure in the Chinese revolutionary forces, has had a fascinating career since he resigned from the United States army to seek adventures in China. He held a commission as lieutenant general in the imperial army and spent a number of years in military operations in the remote interior of the empire, mak- j Inga name for himself as an officer and an author. With the uprising he quit the imperialists. General Lea is a native of Denver. His education was finished in California, at the University of the Pacific and at Stanford. His Crown of Gold. Father Bernard Vaughan, the distinguished English priest and author, said of an unbeliever at a dinner in New York: “He misunderstands. He is like the little schoolgirl. “A school teacher, inculcating jjrinjiples of mortality in her yopng charges said one day: “ ‘Now, my dears, if you do right always you will each wear a golden crown.’ " ‘My papa wears a gold crown now,’ a little girl of six years piped. b “ ‘I have often seen your father, Jessie,’ said the teacher, with a puzzled smile, ‘but I never noticed his gold crown. When and where does he wear it?’ ‘ “ 'He always wears it,’ said the little girl, solemnly, ‘on his toof.’ ” —Detroit Free Press. Long Ago and Now. Miss Gaddie —“Enemies, are you? Why, I thought she loved you not long ago.” Miss Bright—“So she did; and she loves me not now’."—Catholic Standard and Times. Not in His Line. “Waiter!" called the guest at the East Sixth street case who had Just changed his mind. “Walter!” “Yessir,” replied the waiter, rushing back to the table. “Make that chop a steak, will you?” “Sir,” answered the waiter, “I am a waiter, not a magician.” What He Left. "Did your rich uncle leave you aaything when he died?’’ “Yes. A large supnlr of disappointment"

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LTHOUGH horse racing on many of the most prominent tracks in America has in recent years gone into eclipse and the huge purses of days gone by are, to a great extent, a thing of the past, the breeding of thoroughbreds continues and thrives. The market nowadays

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is not found so much among the owners of racing stables as among that large and increasing percentage of the public that has means and inclination ot keep fine riding horses. Not even the vogue of the automobile seems to have dampened the enthusiasm of these cross-country riders and hunters and polo players who demand and are willing to pay for special qualifications in horse-flesh. The reader will, of course, under- x stand that the term thoroughbred, as here used, refers to running horses. There are persons who are under the

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impression that the high-class American trotter has as ’much right as the running, horse to designation as a thoroughbred, but in strictly correct usage horsemen refer to the fine trotters as “standard bred” and reserve the firstmentioned term for the runners—the hunters and

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the “timber-toppers,” as the jumping horses requisite for cross-country riding are designated. The modern American thoroughbred, as we see him at our present day race meetings and horse shows, is the product of four centuries of breeding, training and experimenting. The ancestors of the present numerous equine family were brought to Virginia by the early English settlers and Virginia and adjacent parts of the South have always been famous as the breeding ground of thoroughbreds. However, much of the breeding of thoroughbreds which is and has been done 1" this favored region has been carried on for love es the task rather than for "financial returns. There is a wide difference between American thoroughbreds and those bred in other notable horse-raising sections (for instance, Ireland), but It would be difficult to find an American horseman who will not argue up and down that the Yankee steeds are as fine'examples of all-around training as may be found anywhere on the globe. The American thoroughbred is admittedly shorter than his English prototype, but it is claimed that this lack of stature is more than counterbalanced by soundness and superior constitution. Horsemen in the United States and in the United Kingdom hold to different Ideals in breeding that are bound to be reflected by certain dissimilarities in the animals produced. In America the tendency has been to develop’thoroughbreds that will run comparatively short distances at maximum speed, whereas in England greater atsntion is bestowed upon the problem of breeding horses that will run long distances and will carry weight. It is to be expected that with the passing of racing as the supreme field of usefulness for the American thoroughbred there will be a tendency on the part of Yankee breeders to more nearly approach the English standa/d, which is supposed to produce horses ideal for private use. The breeding of thoroughbreds tn America has been carried on most extensively in the States of Virginia, Kentucky! California, Montana, Pennsylvania, Tennessee, New York and New Jersey. The principal requisites are an equable climate, good soil with a foundation of limestone, plentiful water and an abundance of sweet grass. There are yet in existence many breeding'farms of modest pretensions, but the tendency of recent years appears to be to create vast estates where wealthy men specialize in the breeding of thoroughbreds by aid of every facility that money and thought can provide. In Kentucky a few years ago eight old-fashioned stock farms were merged d by a millionaire into one vast breeding estate of fully two thousand acres. Experienced breeders figure that it costs not less than $125 to raise a thoroughbred yearling at an up-tc-date stock farm and thie sum merely

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.BLUE GPAdJ covers cost of feed BREEDING FAPrT and labor and takes / no account of the investment repre- / sented by the stock farm —usually a y heavy one. There are breeders who y declare that unless they can sell each of their yearlings for a price close to ’A SSOO they do not make a reasonable profit, but in the South, where labor s is cheap and where the initial cost of >r much of the land was fairly low, it I is possible for breeders to make I : money from sales at lower figures I I than that mentioned. I \ The organization and management I £f an up-to-date breeding farm is inI l\ teresting from the manner in which it M X insures attention to detail. The ownil k er t * ie f arm * s usually his own man- ' I ager, but in some instances there is j| X also a resident manager to handle \ matters when the owner is absent—- \ as he must be much of the time if •* he atetnds the fairs, horse shows and horse sales. Under the manager are a number of skilled trainers, each of whom is responsible for the education of a certain number of horses, and has the assistance of several helpers in his work. In addition to this staff there is a boss or foreman for each barn and undei* each barn boss is enrolled a number of grooms, exercise boys, etc. At some of the costly farms in Virginia and Kentucky we find every modern facility from a private electric light and power plant to feed cutters that not only take the grain from the private elevator and crush it, but mix the feed in any desired proportions. s , The education of a thoroughbred at a modem

THE RUINATION OF SAM BUD f X STORY OF A MAN WHO MIGHT HAVE LIVED HAPPILY IF HE HADN’T HAD o £ SO MANY RELATIVES. ♦

I kin remember when th’ only feller that had a suit case wuz some dude with two sets o’ scenery that attended all th’ out-o’-town dances. Now, ever’ one you meet, Hunyaks an’ all, has a suit case an’ is goin’ some place er jist gittin’ back. Ever* time I read about somebuddy returnin’ home after “a delightful two weeks’ visit,” er see a ole battered up pasteboard suit case, I think o’ Sam Bud’s fate. Sam Bud got married long before he begun t* shave, an’ he never seemed able t’ find anything t’ do at home that jist suited him. He was alius talkin’ about ‘‘acceptin’ a position,” an’ when he’d go ’way t’ accept it he’d alius come back an’ say, "Aw, they didn’t want t* pay nothin’. He didn’t want a job with vrages er he didn’t even want a situation. He wanted a' light position with a good salary. Nobuddy knew what he wanted t’ do fer he couldn't do nothin’. His relatives got kind o’ tired o’ him after he fooled around eight er nine years, an’ I guess he noticed it, fer one day he took his golden oak dresser an’ four chairs, a plaid husk mattress an’ a blue enamel bedstead up by th’ livery stable an’ sold ’em at auction an’ him an’ his wife lit out Nothin’ wuz heard o’ em fer nearly ten years. When one day Pinky Kerr found a ole city paper in a empty egg case. Th’ fust thing he read wuz this: "While Samuel Bud, a wealthy an’ prominent manufacturer, wuz crossin’ Washin’ton street Tuesday evenin’ he wuz struck by a tourin’ car an’ taken t* his home at 10757 North Meridian street. He wuz not seriously injured. Sam Bud, wealthy manufacturer! Jist think o' it! An’ livin’ on th’ North side, too. That wuz enough fer his kin folks.

stock farm begins very early in life and is very thorough. However, careful handling is requisite, for a majority of the foals are decidedly shy. When the age of seven or eight months is attained the average young thoroughbred is sufficiently broken to undergo a preliminary trial. As a yearling ne is subjected to further tests. ■

farms which have been awarded blue ribbons in the past. At all times it is essential for the breeder or owner to keep a sharp watch regarding the health of his blooded equines. Particualrly close watch must needs be kept a§ to the condition of the mouth, legs and feet of eahti animal. It is obvious that a horse cannot* »at properly and b® adequately nourished if he has a sore mouth, just as he cannot run satisfactorily if his feet are in bad condition or the shins are “bucked”— the bugbear of two-year-olds. Training a thoroughbred for racing involves, of course, special instruction quite aside from anything included in the animal’s education at the breeding farm, but for that matter every step in the life of a young thoroughbred taxes the temper of the nervous, high-strung animal. And the men In charge of one of these equines must show judgment and patience in Introducing a four-footed charge to each new experience even though it be something so simple as initiation into the mysteries of a box-stall or the donning of a blanket for the first time. Since the decadence of racing in the United States a number of American millionaires who breed thoroughbreds primarily in order to supply their ow-n racing stables have transferred the scene of their activities to the Old World There are several in England; quite a few in France and ! a number in Ireland, w’here Richard Croker, former Tammany leader, is among those w r ho have established important breeding farms. With most of these wealthy men, however, breeding is a fad. The men who breed thoroughbreds for a livelihood continue to do business at the old stand in America and most of them obtain satisfactory profits for their efforts.

So one evenin’/ Sam Bud went home he found his verandy covered with relatives an’ th’ hall full o’ suit cases. Weeks went on an’ they kept cornin’ an’ goin’. Ever’ few days a new family group appeared. Sometimes It wuz Uncle Jim an’ his family. He’d bring a 40-cent dressed hen an’ they’d all stay two weeks; then Aunt Lide an’ th’ girls would come with a pound er two o' pale butter an’ say, “Now, Ellie, don’t you go t’ no trouble on our account. Th’ Lord knows we hain’t used to much;’ then Cousin Bill would jist happen t’ be in th’ city an’ he’d say, "Now, Sam, remember, no didoes. I kin eat anything you kin;” then Sam’s father would drop along with one side of his suit case full o’ Early Rose pertaters an’ th’ other side full o’ socks—enough t’ run him a mofith. He alius mixed business with pleasure an’ when he wasn’t out t’ th’ stock yards he’d set on th‘ verandy in his stockin’ feet an’ watch th’ autos go by. Th’ relatives kept cornin’ till Sam had t’tsell his interest in th’ factory an’ go t’ bookkeepin’. Then his big home went next an’ he rented a flat an’ had t’ put in foldin’ furniture an’ cots. Ever’buddy from th’ ole town looked Sam up an’ brought him hickory nuts an’ sorghum an’ pawpaws an’ —remained over. One Saturday he returned home after puttin’ a delegation o' home folks on th’ interurban an’ fell int’ a easy chair an’ picked up th’ daily paper. Purty soon his wife, who wuz peelin’ some turnips in th’ kitchen, heard a muffled report. Rushin’ int’ th’ room she found Sam layin’ on th’ floor. In his hand wuz a clippin’ from th’ paper sayin’: "The State Grange will meet in this city next week.”—Abe Martin, in Indianapolis News.

THE MORNING | AFTER |j |By JANE LUDLUM LEE We had been aboard the steamer for two whole days arid every time I i turned I found Mr. Warner somewhere j very near me. Not that I minded i very much. I was too much of a | woman for that. I had 1 just come up from breakfast and was strolling : about the deck when I was greeted ! with a cheery “Good morning,” and : together we drifted over to a spot on the boat where the electrician was ! trying to find out just what was the ■ matter with the Marconi. Occasionj ally it would buzz arid burr and sparks i would fly out, but no message could be received. We left the man at his work and sought a more secludqd corner. “Mrs. Lawrence, do you mind if I ask you a personal question?” “Anything but my age. The purser asked me that this morning, and I don’t want to fib twice in the same day.” “Oh, I don’t want to know how old you are. I don’t care, but I’d like to know how long you have been a widow?” “You silly person. I’ve never yet been married. My name is Miss, not Mrs. Lawrence, and I’m in mourning for my father.” For two days after that Mr. 'Warner j was more than ever with me and when I we landed at Newfoundland foi' a day’s stopover, it was a foregone conclusion that we should go sightseeing together. We took a long walk out on the cliffs and sat dreaming for a few moments when my companion broke the silence. “Miss Lawrence—Harriet—I can not,, i wait any longer to tell you something, J and this is such a beautiful spot that i I want you to listen to me, here!” “Well, I’m ajl attention, only please i don’t tell me anything I ought not to know.” “After ali it is not so much what I want to tell you, but that I want to ask you something.” “Please make it something very ■ easy, won’t you. like a good fellow?” ! “Oh, please don’t be frivolous. I ; want to tell you that I ” Just at this instant the awful voice of one of our shipmates chimed in. “And I want to tell you that we have found you out. Why, you ain’t sick at all." I had declined to go driving with I her earlier in the day, pleading illness. I murmured something about feeding better. “Ain’t it nice we have all met,” continued Mrs. Jacksfiin. “Now we can all go home together.” We did and the afternoon was thus spoiled. I hated that Jackson woman, hates everybody—except one or two. My mood softened later in the evening, however, when the mbon came up and Mr. Warner suggested that we walk up to the fortress on the hill. There on the hill overlooking the beautiful harbor, with the stars and moon for my sentinels I heard the dear old story, and as I felt his strong arms around me I knew that I loved him. Sleep came to me slowly that night, but finally I was far off in a dream, only to be wakened by voices outside my porthole. I looked out and saw a face clearly defined in the bright moonlight. Suddenly I realized that it was Mr. Warner, and yet his expression was so anxious that I tried to persuade myself that I was dreaming i still, and turned once more to a | troubled sleep. In the midst of breakfast that morning there was a sudden commotion on deck, when, the captain appeared in the doorway and said: “The Marconi is working, that’s all.” Then, in an undertone to me, he added, “May I have a word with you?” Drawing me to one side, he asked: “Was Mr. Warner a friend of yours?” “He not only was, but is,” I answered with dignity. “Well, my dear, he is no more. We have just received la Marconi from Glace Bay that he is Simeon Alexander, a forger, who has escaped. He was seen walking on the lower deck last night and has not been seen since. Guess he chose a watery grave.” With that the captain left me, and I stood dazed, while through my dizzy brain rushed the events of yesterday and that face in the moonlight. Then suddenly another commotion, and instinctively I ruzhed toward where the crowd had congregated. To my horror, and yet delight, there stood Mr. Warner. “May I ask if you are Simeon Alexander,” asked the captain. “No, I am not, but no more am I Alexander Warner.” Never once did he flinch, nor did he look at me, but his eye was honest and his voice steady. “Where have yoiii been all the morning? The §hip has Been searched and you could not be found.” “It might have occurred to you to look in my stateroom while you were making this vigerot-j search, for that is where I have been. The fact is I did not sleep well last night, and tried to make it up this morning. But captain, I’d like a question. What’s all this row about?” “May I ask who you are, sir?” “Certainly you may ask, but I don’t see that there is any necessity for me to answer. You accepted my passage under the name of Alexander Warner, and until this trip is concluded I see no reason for changing iL”

but it is not until the animal is well into the second . year that the; breeder determines whether the yougster gives promise of a turf career or is better adapted to service as a roadster or a mount for the : huntsman. Sales of yearlings are usually held in midsummer and there is seldom any dearth of bidders for the equines from breeding ;

With this bit of Information, he went below and was not seen again until we landed at Halifax. Here we wer» greeted by two officers, who seaiched the hoat and, peacefully sleeping in the upper berth of stateroom 17 (Mr. Warner’s), they found Mr. Simeon Alexander, who willingly gave himself up. but as he left the room he cast an appealing glance at Mr, Warner. The passengers had all congregated at the.top of the gangway with gaping mouths as Mr. Warner, following the fugitive and his captors, came up thg ladder. Offering his hand to the captain, he silenced all apologies. ' v '■ “That’s all right, captain—we all make mistakes, and now I’ll answer • all your questions. My name is Allison Warner of Texas.” “What,” gasped the captain, “Warner that sold his oil lands to the syndicate for twenty millions?” “That’s the man, and I took this trip for rest.' I came incognito as I’m tired of all this newspaper advertising. But honestly, though, I did not bargain beirig taken for a stowaway. 6ut I’d like to start a purse for this poor fellow. I told the truth when I said I had not slept well last night. I got up and was walking on the deck and stumbled over this old man crouched in a corner. He was waiting his chance to juqjp oyerboarfl, but I persuaded him to come to my stateroom and promised to help him. I put him to bed in my upper berth, and when mernfrip came I had not the heart to wake him. Now I am going to keep my word and run up and see the American consul and while I’m on shore you hoys just fill up the subscription list. “Just one other thing—yesterday Miss Lawrence promised to be my wife, and unless she has changed her / X r / 1 • j 1 Xi 111 lit w/lill! * y mtrrr y&v mind we will be married very soon, so save a little money for the wedding. You are all invited, including the captain. And, boys, my parting advice to you is to show up at luncheon or you’ll be court-martialed. I speak from experience.” He was off the boat and up the hill on his errand of mercy. I turned around to have Mrs. Jackson grasp my hand and say:! “Well I never did. Just to think, a thief and a weddin’ all in the same day! Ain’t it just too grand!” Two Lovable Children. Berta and Carol are the little daughters of a minister who recently went to a new field of labor in Minnesota. Berta was seven, Carol four at the time. One day they were playing about their mother, and she was amazed to hear the older say: “Now, Carol, remember father and mother are just ‘Mr. and Mrs. Dean,’ and you are never to say our pastor and our pastor’s wife.’ ” On another occasion the pastor and his family were guests at a dinner which proved too long an affair for the patience of little Carol. She was rendering life unbearable for her mother when one of the gentlemen said: “Carol and I do not care for dessert, and we are going off to have a 1 good time by ourselves.” When the party left the fining-room and entered the parlor, they found the child clasped in the arms of her big playmate, whom she was kissing with resounding smacks. “Now, Carol,” said the mother, “get down; you have bothered Professor Huntington quite enough.” “ ’Tain’t bother,” said the child indignantly, “I love him and he loves me, and that’s the way we does it” Fifty Years Old. ’ The introduction of pepsin as a remedial agent effected a complete revolution in the method of restoring to normal the ailments which in the old days were classed in a group as dyspepsia. Just half a century ago the late John Carrick, the eminent physiological chemist, and the father, of physiological products in the United States, made possible a new epoch in American medicine by producing the first pepsin. Pepsin had been made in a small way in Europe before Carrick’s enterprise caused it to be introduced here, as it was originally suggested by Doctor Corvisant of Paris. The quality was sb poor, however, that . its use was distinctly limited.—Hygienic Gazette. Partners In Distress. Suburbanite (at railway station)— My dear, this is Mr. Trayne. Suburbanite’s a Wife—Isn’t tha ■ bad! We missed ours, too. pardon,-but I didn’t quite cat name.