Evening gazette, Thursday, September 10, 1896 · page 2

 

 

 

THE FACTORY CHIMNEYSc
Where. bending far. the azure dips Q
To kiss the waking world below. asses
Across the day, in dark eclipse, . - r».
The sombre factory chimneys show: a :f
' - Like gloomy Wardens of the land, .1!”
With sooty banners wide unfurled, _;__
Above the clustered town they stand.
, And f1 own defiance on the world. .
Yet they are beautiful to me, '
Those smoky chimneys gaunt and high.
For in their volleyed-clouds I see
A bow of promise span the sky.
0 children at the cottage door.
Play on, fOr there is naught to dread,
The smoke clouds from the chimneys pour
And all the land is full of bread.

Those sombre standards, floating far. ‘
Give token of the reign of peace.

More potent than the"arms of war.
.Their whirling-looms that never cease. hi

‘i I.
an:

«3.2.:

Beneath that dusky cloud is wrought .‘ c3 .
The fabric of a people’s fate, f.
The victories of love and thought, nah-”.322

Transcending all the spoils of hate. We}:

There comes the sound of mingled bells;
I see the sturdy toilers throng;
In happy homes. where plenty dwells.
I hear the housewife’s cheery song.
Amid the factory’s busy hum is:
Are mingled words of hope and cheer.
That greet the morn when day is come.
And bless the day when night is near.

Far be the time when, high andwide, ,
No smoke wreaths from the chimney tops
Send-cheer to all the country side.
And all the hum of labor stops;
When men'are dumb and children wail.
And hearts grow sul-lenAwith despair;
And food and strength and courage fail.
And famine breathes in all the air.
——R. C. Tongue, in Youth’s Companion.

A POETICAL WIFE.

Her husband, certainly, must not
know. He Was the sworn enemy of
all blue stockings. Alas! and she
’ loved poetry so much! She had com-
posed a whole volume of verses that
must be put into a neat little book.
with red binding, a gilt design, and the
title, “Forget-Me-Nots, by Rosa 8..”
in raised letters. This little work, dis-
played in the shop windows, would not
be an unpleasing sight, and when Her-
bert, her husband, should see it, his
unreasonable prejudice would be re-
moved.

Every leaf of this volume, every
stroke of the beautifully-written.
verses, was known to her by heart,
and she could even picture to herself
on which side of the page this love
strain or that spring song should ap-
pear. Of love and spring-time she had
generally written; it is hardly possible
it shou1d be otherwise with a newly-
wedded wife. .

She desired 'that a certain professor
should see her work—she had even
spoken to him concerning it. It wound-
ed her deeply to entrust her darlings to
a rough critic, and expose them to the
unsparing comments they would surely
. receive. Yet it must be done, for she
dared not rely wholly upon her own
judgment.

She took one glance at the leaves
before doing them up in a wrapper,
her cheeks burning and ears tingling.
Oh, it is no light matter, this sending
ene’s first thought-child out into the
world! .

“I send you herewith that of which
I have spoken to you. I rest entirely

upon your judgment,” she wrote
' briefly upon her visiting card. Why
should She add more? A critic Would
not ask for comments. Then she ad-
dressed it, “Herr Professor Meywink,"
and drew the pages for a final peep be-
fore putting the card' inside the cover.

Just then the door was opened, and
Minna, the servant girl, appeared there
with a market basket upon her arm.

“Madame.” said she, “I am going to
the butcher’s.”

“Yes. certainly.”

The young wife aroused herself. It
costs an effort to return to the rude,
working-day world at such times; but
she made it cheerfully; for Frau Hein-
richs was a capable housewife—no one
could dispute this—and on that account
Herbert had chosen her for his wife.
He was fond of practical things—the
. housekeeping gifts—and she had them,
despite her love of scribbling. How-
ever, that was merely by the way,
while her'talent. her poetical genius,
should not be held longer -in check, as
she knew. And it was merely anlin-

accent recreation. It was incompre-

hensible to her that her husband
should dislike it so much.

“Yes, Minna,” said Frau Heinrichs,”
“we will have for to-morrow whatre-
mains of the roast meat “served to-day.
I’ think we can do without meat on
Friday, so we need not order a breast
of veal till Saturday. I will write
thus to the butcher.”

This she did, saying:

“You may send What I spoke to you
about on Saturday, as we shall not re-

, quire anything before then.”
So absorbed was the young lady in
' her task of wrapping up her poems,

turning them over and over. that the .

card to the professor and the card to
the butcher became interchanged.
Finally, Minna’s display of impatience
urged Frau Heinrichs to put the cards
hastily into their envelopes.

“There, Minna, this is for the pro-
fessor, this for the butcher,” she said.
“Make no mistake. You are often
absent-minded. This to the professor
and this to the butcher.”

Minna grumbled in her heart'at not
being considered “as responsible as
other people,” and trotted 0115. first to
the professor’s; the learned man not
being at home, she dropped his en-
velope in the letter-box at the door.

“This to the butcher,”’ Frau Hein-
_richs had said, and his address was
clearly written on the envelope; but
,was the packet also for him? How-
ever, why trouble herself about that?
She had received it from her mistress.

Master Krause, opening the paper,
read:

-“I send you herewith that of which

I. have spoken to you. I rest entirely»

upon your judgment.”

He shook his head. turned .the pack-
age over and over, and again shook his
head as he looked at the meat and'dis-
tinctly written card.

s..,'r/-"'-‘ ' '-"” n“...- a.

__ . . _0 ,...— .-.

. “Are you sure this is for me?” he
asked, wondering. . ,
“The mistress gave it to me for you.”
“H’m—h’m! Astonishing! We spoke
not long ago of some waste paper; she
had some she would send me; can this
be it?” . ..... .
Minna shrugged her shoulders. .
“I’m sure I don’t know." .
“It is curious, at least. Probably
only a sample,” laughed the butcher.
“I will keep it until some time I see
your mistress.”
Minna turned to go. . .
“What, no meat to-day?" inquired
Herr Krause. ' ,1
. “Not till Saturday. Does it
so on the card?”-
. “Not a word."
He turned it over several times. _
“Incomprehensible!” said the ser-,

1.4‘0-‘4..1 ~
on :

not say

vant. “How thoughtless are these
far-seeing ladies! All confusion—all
confusion!"

A few moments later, the butcher’s
lad departed from the shop to deliver
a quarter of a pound” of sausages
wrapped up in “Spring’s First Oifer-
ings.” -

Meanwhile the professor had re
turned home. The old gentleman also
read his card with many shakes of
the head. He showed it to his wife; to
see if she could explain the matter.
After long reflection she thought she
understood it. ’

“I have it!” she said. “Frau Hein-
richs one day asked of me a receipt of
our cook’s. She wished to have it by
Thursday, but has probably changed
the time to Saturday.”

“Yes. yes, that must be it!” said the
professor. “God be thanked that this
riddle is solved! Very singular, how-
ever. that she should address me—
very singular!” /

Then be dismissed the matter from
his mind. and became absorbed in his
book. .

And now. while Frau Heinrichs
dreamed. waking and sleeping, of the
result of her poetical experiment, a
number of the butcher’s customers
were laughing over the poems written
upon his wrapping paper.

-All unsuspecting, she one day called
on the wife of Judge Rothin Brumke.

“Have you heard the news?” asked
that lively lady. “Master Krause has
a poet in his employ; every small
package is enveloped in paper with
verses written on it.” -

She rose, and presently brought in
a greasy sheet of paper upon which
was an “Ode to Love.” while the un-
fortunate poetess. growing redder and
redder with shame, thought she
should sink into the earth.

At home fresh ignominy awaited her.
Minna had bought some lard; on the
paper wrapping was a beautiful poem
which she had learned by heart: “I
Dream of Thee!" What an insult!
She trembled. she burned‘with fever;
scalding tears filled her eyes; she

- wept for anger and shame, yet dared

not call her servant to account for fear
of. betraying herself. The lovely
poem, the rhyming of which had cost
her so many headaches, so many
sleepless nights, to be used to send out
sausages and lard in! The. thought
was horrib e. If Herbert learned of it
how he would laugh! Yes, he would
laugh at first; but at the last might he
not be angry? She did not know what
he might say. She was in the wrong
to do something he detested without
his knowledge, and this was her pun-
ishment—the righteous punishment.
What reparation could she make?

With gatheringfears she awaited the
home-coming of her husband. What
if he had already learned something of
this matter? And now he came—as
._gay as usual? Yes, she was not mis-
taken: he was to—day in particularly
good spirits.

“My dear,” said he, as he removed
his overcoat, “I have here a very
curious production.” .

He drew a paper from his pocket
and unfolded it. His wife, looking
over his shoulder. as was her custom,
but with what an expression to-day,
poor little tortured soull—listened as
he read with mock pathos: . :

“You never guessed my love for you,

My hidden, silent woe; .

We meet as strangers. face to face— 2
How shall I let you know? ‘

“No lnn ger can I be r this pain, "5 I”
This doubt. this death in life;
' Time’s child holds for me but the choice
To die or be your wife.”

“There is. indeed, sorrow wrapped
up in that,” he concluded. “What
think you of such nonsense? What do
you say to this fruit of bluestocking.
ism? For the handwriting indicates
the writer’s sex. Ugh! what stuff it
is! ‘Woe’——‘nain’——‘death in * life’—
‘doubt’——‘madness!’ Ha! ha! ha! The
poor author, after going from pub-
lisher to publisher, who all shook their
heads compassionately, came at last
to Master Krause. who out of pity
gave her two pence a pound for her
damaged paper. Soyat last the poems
came to the public.” He laughed
loudly,. drawing his wife to him.
“Never follow such an example,” he
said. Then, seeing the tears glistening
in her eyes, he asked, “What is it,
dear?” - _ ' '

“There was not a= pound,” she
sighed, bending her head with shame
upon his shouldre.

“You?” he exclaimed. “Are you the
blighted poetess ?” And he whirled her
about like a top and ‘kissed her heart-
ily. . » . i
c‘What more need he say? For she
was cured of her rhyming propensities;
of that he was sure—Waverly Maga-
zine. - .3

n.|‘

‘4‘?

 

' Little Willie to Mr. Spinks.

Mr. Spinks'—“Well, Willie, has your

sister made up her mind -to go to the
concert with me?”-

Willie—“Yes. She's made up her

mind, and she’s makin’ up her face

now. She’ll be down in a minute”;

 

, .
.‘LA
.:- -_.

 

 

UN, UNEVEN: RACE.‘

5 ‘

 

lThe‘Desperate Run of a Brave _

California BroncO-

—-—-q

 

H5 Keeps Ahead of a Thoroughbred Race-
ihorse Until He Falls from Exhaus-
‘ tion —- A Thrilling Narra-
tive. «9'»: fl!

.,..
i as,
v'rr

An exciting story is told by Crom-
well Galpin, in St. Nicholas, of a race

 

between a. bronco and a big thorough- .

bred horse. The former was ridden

by a. mere boyra Californian, who, had ;.

to file a certain paper in court before

' noon in order to retain possession of a

farm. The writersays: _ _

There was still wanting the one
thing that stirs a. racer to his utmost
endeavor. Felipe had almost forgot-
ten the horsc behind him. Two-eyes
had not. He had been on the alert,
horse fashion, with' one ear now and
again turned, and inoreased his speed
as the thoroughbred drew near. Felipe
turned his head with a sick feeling
that in a minute more he would not be
obliged to turn his head to see. One
sidelong glance showed him a bay
horse with his head in the air, his
dainty ears upright and his frothing
mouth wide open. The rider stood in
his stirrups, leaning over his horse’s

neck with the reins wound around his '

hands. White foam had gathered at
the saddle girth, and sweat dropped
from the horse’s body as he ran.

Felipe shut his teeth. and turned his
facetoward Los Angeles. He did not

.need to look long nor to know very

much about horses to see that this one
was a true race horse, and the man a
steady and a skillful rider. ‘

And Two-eyes? Two-eyes heard the
quick hoof-beats, and the “huh-huh,
huh-huh” of a horse at speed, and felt
hot breath on his flanks as the thor-
oughbred drew alongside.

Not the unmusical cry of Tomas, not
the fierce shriek of the savage who in
the old days rode him—neither heating
with knotted rope, nor cruel stroke of
sharpest spur—could have gained'from
the bronco horse the respouse he gave
to the challenge of the thoroughbred.
The big head came down closer to the
ground, the hairy ears were laid back
till the mane concealed them, and the
deep lungs labored as, through blazing
nostrils, the horse sucked in the strong
salt breeze.

So far the race had been run over level
ground; but as the riders approached
the city, the country became hilly and
the road rougher. ,

It was not for nothing that Two-eye
had spent five wild years in the Sierra
Madres, where the gray wolf and the
mountain lion are always swift and al-
ways hungry; nor was it without ad-
vantage that Felipe’s tomboy sister,
Ignacio, had raced the pinto horse over
this road till it was as familiar to him
as the stableyard at home. To the
bronco horse, used to the mountains
from colthood, the hilly road appeared
to be rather a relief. He galloped la-

boriously up the little hills and rushed?

down the opposite sides with a speed
that took away his rider’s breath; he
jumped from hillock to hollow, and
across the little gulches; he dodged the
spots where re edlike grass‘Showed that
the ground was wet and soft; and
whether running or trotting or pro-
gressing by irregular jumps, he went on
his way with scarcely lessened speed.

The thoroughbred had never been al-
lowed to run except on a smooth and
level track. He refused to leap the
first gully which Crossed the road.
though it was scarcely a foot wide.

When Harry made him face it again, he-

jumped ten feet farther than was nec-
essary, and stopped stock-still upon the
opposite side. Then he belted side-
wise, and ran in the wrong direction;
and Harry felt as if his arms were be-
ing pulled off as he forced his horse to
return to the road.

As -for Two-eyes, he did what he
could. He was old, as horses’ years are
counted. He had run many races for
Apache masters who jerked his head
from side to side, and threw him out of
his stride, in their ignorant and fero—
cious efforts to make him go faster. ‘_ In
all his life there had been but one year
in which his feed was regular and good;
of all the masters he had ever known
this was the only one who had called
upon him for speed, riding with steady
hand and watchful eye and inspiring
voice, sparing him needless pain.

It is bronco nature to respond
heartily to these things, and Two-eyes

tried desperately to keep away from.

the cluttering hoofs behind him. His
breath came in gasps; his mouth was
dry, and his sight was dim; his trem-
bling legs grew weak as side by side the
horses raced down the street leading to
the courthouse, now hardly a, . mile
away.

As in a nightmare, Felipe saw the;
thoroughbred forge ahead, the bony-

head outstretched and down to the
level of the withers, the dainty' ears
laid. flat, the crimson nostrils' widely
spread, and the eyes glaring with fierce
eagerness. .- -

The bronco oran on, but unsteadily.
Felipe drew his legs out from under the
rope, and as he did so the bronco’s feet

sank in the soft earth'where a. little'

stream crossed the street. The horse’s
courage Was greater than his strength.

He plunged forward half a. dozen'r

SAFE _ GUI'RDiAL

stumbling strides, and fell just ’at the
edge of the little stream.

Felipe slid over his horse’s head into
a. patch of tules, and lay, half stunned
but not hurt, while the thoroughbred
horse passed out of sight and hearing,
and the dust his flying feet had‘ raised
settled down upon the quiet street.

 

Singular Case of Blindness.

Mrs. Jonathan Rowe, of South Atkine‘
son, Me., who has been totally blind «'
for twenty years, experienced an odd-

partial recovery of her sight a. few days
ago.

the twenty-four hours is as ,blind as
formerly. ' -' ‘ "

_ bicycles

1

She suddenly beCame able to see ‘
quite‘ distinctly one afternoon about I
two o’clock, but her vision, was «totally '
obscured again in two . hours. ~ Since -'-
then she has been able to see every day .
between abOut two and four o’clock in f
the afternoon, but. during the rest of '

" i ““9““ “’99.“: .,
ll Noflh-Main 81.. Still llama-Ill.- 3.

 

THE-EVENiuGCoashrrnw:“QTQ

'elcycrE-Fs in opfsielc’ 1 cm Es.

 

Modern Wheels Rolling 4mm the 'Scenery
_ ' : 'of Ancient Greeceu .

The Grecian athlete has'taken up the
bicycle, according to our consul at
Athens, who, in a. letter to the state de-
partment, calls attention to the chance
American wheelmakers have of dispos-
ing of their product. Consul George
Horton says “there are at the present
time about: '400 bicycles in Athens.
They are mostly of English make. The
average prise at"which Wheels sell here
is $78.65,,and the average weight is 26 3
pounds. The character of the roads'
renders a. lighter make impracticable,
unless the machines are of ahigh grade
and with a. wide base. The duty on"
= is . insignificant, .not being,
manufactured here, . . .

“The history. of the bicycle in Greece ’
is interesting. The first machine was
brought here many years, ago by the
king. It was an all—wood affair, front
driying, of the variety known as ‘bone-
shaker.’ Naturally, his majesty did
not appear in public on the streets, as
bicycles were regarded by the natives
as supernatural and uncanny for many
years. The pioneer- bicyclists of'Greece
were subjected to many inconvenien-
ces and even dangers. They were
booted and laughed at on the streets of
Athens, and were sometimes stoned.
and tumbled from their wheels. At
the present day the rustic generally:
crosses himself and utters a. prayer

‘when a bicycle passes him.

“Bicycling may be said to have com-
menced here in earnest about eight
years ago with the founding of several
clubs and the adoption of the wheel as
an amusement by leading Greeks. It
is safe to predict a craze in the near
future, as the royal family and many of
the leading diplomats are now en-
thusiasts. The crown prince and the
English, American and German min-
isters, among others, may be seen on
the streets every day mounted upon
wheels. Such leadership has more
weight in Greece than it would have in
America. Last year one of the dealers
here brought over five wheels of a cele-
brated American type from New York.
_He had no difficulty in selling them im-
mediately at 1,000 drachmas apieCe.
They were lighter than the English
makes ordinarily used here, and very
much admired. No attempt has since
been made by American makers to
place wheels in Athens.

“Many agreeable excursions can be
made with the wheel, among them
from Athens to- Phalerum, to the
Piereus, to the king’s property at Tutoi,.
to Marathon,to Thebes and other places.
Many long trips are possible; for ex-
ample, there is a magnificent road
skirting the sea all the way to Corinth.
After'stopping a day or two to visit
the ancient Acropolis one may continue
the journey to Nauplia, the capital of,
Greece under 'Otho, taking‘in the ruins
of Mycenae, Argos and Tyreus on the
way. The scenery of such a. trip is
magnificent, beyond description, and
the points touched at are of surpassing
historical interest. The climate is fa.-
vorable for bicycling, there being a. wet
and a. dry season, so that one knows be-
fore starting what weather to expect.”

The revival of the Olympian games,
which occurs in April, will include
bicycle races, and ' Consul Horton
thinks American wheelmakers would
find it advantageous to have a. repre-
sentative present—Boston Herald.

That

[Tired Feeling

Makes you seem “ all broken up,” with-
out life, ambition, energy or appetite.

It is often the forerunner of serious ill- .

ness, or the accompaniment of nervous
troubles. It is a positive proof of thin,
weak, impure blood; for, Si 1‘79 blood is
rich, red, vitalized and rigcv-ous, it im-
parts life" and energy to every nerve,
organ and tissue of the ‘body. The
necessity of taking Hood’s Sarsa‘parilla'
for that tired feeling is therefore apparent
to every one, and the good it will do you
is equally beyond question. Remember

H oodl’s-

sarsaparilla-

Is the best-in fact the One True Blood Purifier.

' ll '11, .
Hood’s Pills 33;; tithséis’ziih‘iiz

 

 

GNflQ - .

. CRAli-PS, I
. DIARRHiEA,

And all Bowel Troubles
Promptly relieved with .

HALE’S

._ Large'Bo't'tle 25 cents.

 

' V, At all Druggist.

luv: Mill-Ilsa-

 

Mynewline of ‘3 ring and=
Summer Suit ngs, which
. will be made up in the latest
styles and ' at the lowest
price consistent wnh goo
Call in and inépect them.

Work.

J.

v

ossiblet '

 

 

”’ = '.v'

' ‘ < t . ..
o
l‘

_ The Door/.3
0f "the Furnace ' '

is a matter of consideration for one who-has-ha’d'
experience in taking care of one. If you have ii
tried to throwa shovel 'of coal into the back of a.
furnace and because of the- ‘ '

small door had your shovel
strike on the edge and throw , .
half of the coal on the base- ;
ment floor, you know why, ‘ ,
we call your attention to the fact that

 
 

 
 
 
 

 

«semeuseasew. " as

Y .. . . ‘ ~. -. i
a?” , the Bay State has'W1de doors for both' kQQfi-‘XQ
9:" ConsuIt the‘feed and the ash-pit. It is because ‘ ““ ' GIL”
'33! your > of our development in the little things which go to I up;
(in local make a convenient and practical furnace that the » (5‘0 .
(if? dealer Bay 'State ranks first among heating apparatus. 9:9
his , ,_ _ '. I - (~le
.3, BARSlGW srcvr ca, 228 Water St., New York .3”.
a?” Foundries—Providence, R. I. \ ‘ . Boston office—:36 Union St. -' “$0 1-

iceceeoceceraeaeeeaceecceerd

 

 

TEAM '

 
 

BICYCLE

A N D OE
(tom'rcnr.

' Yellow ~
. ‘ fell ow
is known throughout cycling as alight, staunch,
stylish, speedy mount. There’s a best in every-

thing; the ’96 Stearns is a veritable edition deluxe
among bicycles. Finished in black or orange.

Stearns riders are satisfied riders, and always
proud as kings of their mounts. '

Your address will insure receipt of our hand-
some; new catalogue. . . _
E. c. STEARNS a co., Makers, Syracuse, N. Y.
Buffalo, N. r.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 

San Francisco. Cal. . Toronto; Ont.

 

H. R. BULKLEY 8: 60.. Agents. SOUTH NORWALKu

 

 

Towle Vault Light Company. f

MANUFACTURERS.

AULi LIGHTS. 3lech

min PATENTLIGHT DESIGNS.

 

Factory: ‘ ’ Office: ,
v48|§llliliilis AVEllllE, i61 ELM STREET,
BROOKLYN. NEVI- YORK.-

 

Mu are an. to
MIDI) for a. big:
ale; argue content
with smut a

 
 
 
 

STANDARD- OF . .
' ' f ‘ -t r...- to. building in. best a ‘cle, sacked;
Emignmm‘st; r: 43.1.17" assured by ourscicntliicimeth
should mean much ’to any buyer of a-bicycle. There is but one
Gambia. quality-eons Columbia. price—- '. ' . .

’lO’O' "

h ' I, " i bis.‘ di-in’rtfrdBicycleflsfieeifyouafluponny-

m... .. «A..=.:a....,....... , ,
' Fe! anew... if Colombians not:
.. m:*‘”¥3'-”:J ‘ : "mien

-:~e‘ Si

 

 

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mm" a“ ' n‘é'rglwm-mm a." ‘