Bellefonte, Pa., Nov. 27, 1896.
MY CREED.
ALEXANDER MCLECD.
What's good and pure in any creed
I take and make it mine.
Whatever serves a human need
I hold to be divine.
I ask no proof that bread is bread,
And none that meat is meat.
Whate're agrees with heart and head
That food T mean to eat.
Man sunectifies the holiest robe:
Truth sanetifies the Look.
The purest temples on this globe
Are mountain, grove and hrook.
That spot of earth where®re it be,
To me is holy ground
Where man is striving to be tree—
Freedom or death has found.
.
The crown upon an empty head
I hold as cap of fool.
The scepter from whien wisdom’s fled
Has lost the right to rule.
The purple robe on coward’s back
Does not inspire my awe.
The ermine and the coat of black
I honor not as law,
I try the king, the judge, the priest
The common man and woman.
From the mightiest to the least,
By one great law—the human.
I find true men where're 1 look
Of every creed and nation.
Mid sons of toil in darkest nook,
As in the loftiest station.
The man wo has no faith in wan
I hold unworthy trast,
Fhe man who does the best his can
Will stand among the jnst,
Whatever creed serves man the best
I hold the hesi of creeds.
I recognize no other trust,
Of faith than life and deeds,
The trath that elevates the mind
And purifies te heart,
That teaches love of all mankind
And blunts adiliction’s dart.
hat dries the orphan’ widow's tear
And ait
Flat tenth, withiont ado?
ates thelr loss —
i ike as gold from dross,
POLLY ANSON'S “YRISH CHAIN.
BY MARTHA MCCULLOCH-WILLIAMS,
“I don’t really sce how Polly had the
face todo it! Weall know what made
her piece this quilt,” Mrs. Gartley said, in
a half-whisper, to her next ncighbor, Mrs.
Carter, as they stood by their chairs eying
the blue and white expanse. 2
ti :8—sh! She'll hear you,’ ‘Mya. Car-|
seem to |
ter returned. “Besides, it don’t
me quite faiv to say that. Polly's been al-
ways a good industrious girl ; she made
quilts and cushions and tidies long hefore
Len Baxter ever came to see her.”
“But she made this a purpose to take
home to housckeepin’ with him,’ Mrs.
Gartley persisted. “If I had been in her
mother’s place, I'd never in the world have
made all this to-do of a quiltin’ over it.
Do you know, iliey’ve even invited Len to
come with the other boys this evenin’? 1]
must say that shows mighty little pride—
the way things stand.”
“So do I,” said a third woman, Miss
Maria Agnew, coming up behind the others
and bending over the quilt.
they've stretched this tight in the frames !”
she went on. “We won't have any ends
to our fingers left time we quilt it in the
rose pattern ; and that’s the only thing the |
least fit for the Irish chain.”
“If I'd asked my neighbors to help me,
it would have been on something easier,”
Mrs. Gartley assented, tapping the taut
surface. “Everybody knows a quiltin’
ought to be mostly a Ivolic ; but then Mrs.
Anson was always the greatest manager ;
she'll give us a fine dinner, and get the
worth of it in work.”
“If you grudge it, you might have staid i
away : that’s what I'd do in that case,”
Mrs. Carter said, so pointedly the others
looked a thought abashed.~ After a minute
she spoke more gently ; *‘I think it is |
hardly fair, and certainly not kind, to talk
so about Polly, when we really know
nothing more than that for six months Len |
Baxter seemed to have eyes for no one clse,
and then all at once came here no more.
Nobody knows the reason. Polly may
have refused him—"’
“She didn’t I” Mrs. Gartley said, with
startling energy.
“It ain'tdikely. an’ him the hest chance
in the county. ownin’ land all round the
Anson place,” Miss Agnew supplemented.
“I shall always believe,”” she went on,
“Polly must have made fun of him ter
somebody, an’ he got ahold of it. You
know she’s a sassy piece, an’ jest 's full of
mischief as she cun live ; an’ Len he's
mighty high-strung—all the Baxters ever
I saw was that way. While I W’leeve
Polly would of took him at the drap of a
hat, I think she wanted sorter to act in-
dependent to other folks, an’ let on as she
didn’t keer about whether she ever seen
him again or not. I said all along, how
easy it would be for somebody to go an’ |
make trouble—"’
“Oh, pshaw ! Miss Maria. You old
maids are always makin’ up romances,’
Mis. Gartley broke in, eagerly, but with a
curious down look. ‘‘’Ain’t Len got the
same right to flirt, or even change his
mind, as any other young fellow ? We
all know they do it, even them that have
not got half he has to make it worth a
woman's while to take ‘em. I said first,
as I siy now, he just go tired and quit.
Polly won't die of it, neither ; but nobody
can make me believe she wouldn't give her
eye-teeth to have him back again.”
‘Of comse you say that. You don’t
want ter admit Dora Gartley’s wearin’
Polly's old shoes,” Miss Agnew said, a
thought tartly, looking across the room as
she spoke. ‘Lor!’ she went on, ‘Dora
does look washed out side o’ Polly !' You
better tell her not ter go close ter her when
the boys come in.’
“But Dora is really very stylish.”” Mrs.
Carter said, kindly.
Mis. Gartley moved away in high dud-
geon. Across the room she stopped to say
to Mrs. Squire Bell that she did think old
maids ought to be shut up in asviums like
lunatics ; they were so poison cantanker-
ous, they spoiled whatever they came to,
and they would go everywhere in spite of
faith. _—
Mrs. Bell only smiled. She was a kind
motherly woman, with thick silver-white
hair. Polly was her god-child, and she
knew cnongh of the deeps and shallows of | the quilting got on famously.
current gossip to comprehend something of
what was working in the Gartley mind.
There were at least twenty women be-
tween eighteen and sixty gathered there in
the Anson dining-room. It had hig wooden
beams in the ceiling. The quilt swung by
ropes running up to staples in the beams.
quilting there, in place of using the parlor
or the big square light chambers, of which
she had so many. Indeed, she had the
greatest plenty of room everywhere. The
back piazza, that to-day would serve for
dining-room, was twelve feet wide, and
| ran the length of the house.
I open windows you could see the long table
| there, already sprewd with fine linen and
glass and silver and china.
Through the windows came, too, wafts
“My! but]
of ripe October air. Frost had fallen the
| warm the nipped asters and chrysan-
[‘themums held up their heads afresh, and
i late rose-buds unfolded to faint-hued
| blossoms, but the sweeter for their pale-
ness. Some deep blue flowers, too—a
| lustier sort of forget-me-not—had come
| out plentifully along their lower branches.
| Polly had stuck a knot of them in her belt,
| and another among her straw-yellow braids.
{She had a dimpled rose-leaf face, lit by
dancing dark eyes. Perhaps she did not
[ know nor care how much the blue flowerets
i accented her piquant loveliness.
She had been very wretched ever since
the quilting was bruited, though she felt
the force of what her mother said of it.
| Yes, the neighbors—some of them, at least
| —would gloat over what they called her
| disappointment. She had meant to keep
Because of them Mrs. Anson did all her,
Through the
week before, but now it was warm—so |
N
| would begin with shaking the cat in the
| master-piece of stitchery.
“I wouldn’t have such a thing as that
| at my house, not for the world! It's so
old-fashioned and tacky,” Dora Gartley
said to Jennie Crewe. Jennie did not
answer at once. She was round and rosy—
{ next to Polly Anson, easily the prettiest
| girl in the room.
“I don’t see the harm,’’ she said at last.
| ‘Of course there ain’t anything really in
| it, but I’ve heard grandma say she never
knew it fail when she was young, and
| folks believed in it, that the one the cat |
| jumped out by was always the one to marry
first.”
| “You have got it wrong, Jinny !"’ Polly i
| said, coming up to them with her tortoise- |
| ; “
|
shell kitten in her arms. She had tied a
: blue ribbon about its
| throat, the contact of silk and fur brought
lout all its white roundness. ‘No!
lare half right,” she went on. *‘That is
worse, you know, ever so much worse,
than being all wrong. We
about the quilt for shaking, a man next a
‘maid, and whoever puss jumps hetween are
{in honor bound to marry each other, or!
else discredit the sign.”
© “Then I'll take care whom 1 stand be-
Dora blushed anh looked down
Several young men
| away.
| consciously.
neck—the color .
[ matched exactly the flowers in her hair. i
| As the little creature nestled against her |
You |
must stand !
side,” Jennie said, laughing. Polly darted |
were |
“Accept my congratulations, please,’
| Polly said to them, with a brave smile, as
they turned about. The rest followed her
| lead, crowding about the chosen pair,
| shaking hands and felicitating them until
| Len was half wild. Polly’s gay speeches, |
| her winsome smiles, stung him like a lash.
| Normally he was a sane, self-contained
. young fellow ; but sanity and self-restraint
| are apt to fall when they come under great
| strain after months of torturing unrest. He
had loved her—ah heavens ! how he had
: loved !—loved her still in the face of that
which should slay the strongest love. She
| knew his love, had betrayed it, and now
mocked him with light words, lighter
laughter, as though she rejoiced to show
him how little his presence or his ahsence
| could mean to her.
As time went on to supper and the danc-
ing, Len’s purpose grew fixed ; he would
shame and wound Polly as she was wound-
It was warmer than at mid-day,
{ing him.
| the sky thick with scuddiug clouds, and a
| damp south wind at play in the painted
; trees. Belated crickets piped desolately,
: the peacocks in the oak-trees now and again
| gave their raucous night cry.. But within
| all was frolic, flitting figures, and merry
noise. The fiddlers were a thought late,
else already the oaken floor would resound
with rhythmic feet.
out on the back piazza.
great friends—good comrades, indeed. They |
secret all her small housewifely prepara- (coming through the door, Len Baxter the | had not met for two weeks, hence had
| tions, but the Gartleys were forever run-
[ning in, and both mother and daughter
(had fine eyes for spying, and tongues |
I liberal in telling of what the eyes had |
So the neighborhood had come to |
seen.
understand that Polly was ‘‘fixin’ to get
| married.” That was the same as though
her engagement had heen announced. Then
| when the cloud came—all at once, and un-
Laccountably—she had writhed in the
thought of how gossip would roll the news !
of it under the tongue.
«That is, when the first intolerable ache
let her think of anything beyond loss of
her lover. Even yet she did not quite
know how she had lived through the weeks |
when first Den rode past the house every
+ day without ever so ‘much as looking to-
wards it. They seemed to her now like a
' big black blur.
fully the most trival detail of her happy
time. Gspecially the last week : she
remembered the very look and flavor of the !
strawberries Len brought her—the first '
from his fine beds ; she could smell the
jasmine in the garden, and hear the robins
singing in the honeysuckle arbor down at
the farther end of it. Her father’s sly
jokes, too, and the twinkle in his eye as
he reminded her of certain old antipathies
to the Baxter name. They dated hack to
Grandfather Baxter. who wasa high, stern-
ly pious old soul, and had reproved Polly
{ for dancing, when she could no more help
it than an elf or a will-o’-the-wisp.
She could see, too, her mother’s look of
brooding content. From the first Len had
won upon her; he had told Polly more
being sure of her mother’s countenance he
dared to persist with her She had carried
herself high and proudiy towards him—
now she could not rejoice enough in the
thought. And how she had laughed when
her namesake, black Polly Anson, who
[now lived and worked upon the Gartley
place, had come begging “Miss Polly’ to
| write a letter for her !
“Hit got ter be er sorter lub-letter,’’ the
| black girl explained, sheepishly. *‘An’ I
|
mought git de hang on hit hetter'n our
! Miss Dora.”
. Tt was an odd sort of love-letter, afier
iall. Black Polly was, it seemed, in a
strait betwixt affection and interest. ‘I
| thinks heap de most ub Tanm,” she con-
fided. ‘*But den ole man Gawge Rick he’s
{ gut lan’ an’ mules, an’ he so ole he aiu’t
| gwine lib no mighty long. Sorter fix hit
so Taum’ll unnerstan’ dat, Miss Polly. 1
| do’ "ant dat po’ nigger ter think no less of
hisse’f ‘n he kin he’p.”’
| So Polly wrote, after a proper introduc-
tion, smiling vet piteous as her hand traced
the words : “Don’t think. dear Tom, I
don’t love vou better than all the world.
Ido; I would marry you gladly, only it
happens you have not much of anything,
and I can marry another man who has a
great deal. Maybe that ought not to make
any difference, but it does—all the differ-
ence in the world. I want to have things
and be somebody without waiting and
of them. So don’t think any more of
Your loving POLLY ANSON.”
“Now you must make your mark there,”
Polly the white had said, after she had
written the name with a great flourish.
Black Polly drew back, the picture of
wounded dignity, saying :
Polly I' I's ’stonished at you, I'is! You
{ don’ reckon I’s gwine sen’ nobody er lub-
I always did thought you had de mos’
| raisin’ ob anybody ’bout yore, hut dat
ain’t no good way ter do.”
Properly crushed, Polly had addressed
the letter, in her best business hand, to
Thomas Montgomery,
cousin, and the young master of black
Polly’s discarded swain. She was about
to add ‘‘colored”
black Polly broke in :
‘Tain’t no need ter put nothin’ else
letter my own se’f. I's good ter see him
at meetin’ Sund’y ; den hit cain’t go
wrong.’
“Then why not tell him?’ Polly asked.
*‘It seems to me that would be so much
better,”’ and again black Polly had stood
upon her dignity.
‘Why ! He took an’ writ ter me,’ she
had said, ‘‘an’fotcht de letter plum ter my
house! Reckon I gwine gib him back
answer dest in talk ? My heabenly Marster !
better 'n dat.’’
After the black girl had gone, Polly had
sat, smiling and dimpling, framing in her
mind the story of her letter-writing as she
wonld tell it to Len next time he came.
And he had never come, though only that
morning he had begged most earnestly for
a serious answer, and had said, significant-
ly, as he went away, ‘‘If you are ohstinate-
ly silent when I come to-morrow, I—why,
I shall take silence for consent.’
He was coming to-day with the other
! neighborhood youth. He had met her
mother at the gate yesterday, and almost
(compelled her to ask him. After all,
| Polly was glad of it. They had met casual-
| ly outside twenty times, but she pined for
a chance to show him she could see hin
unmoved, as a chance guest, here where he |
had been a lover.
In spite of the rose patterns difficulty,
By dinner-
time the workers were on the last reaches
tof it ; they might, with a thought more
diligence, have had it out of the frames.
But nobody wanted that to happen until
the hoys came in: then fun and frolie
Yet her mind kept faith- |
than once, indeed, that it was only through |
comed yere ‘case hit ‘peared ter me you
working until I am so old I can get no good |
“Wy, Miss |
[letter wid er mark ter hit, same lek hit!
i was dest one er dem whar tells de news ? |
Esquire, and had '
smiled as she wrote the name ; she knew
another Thomas Montgomery—he was her |
to the address, when
| dar, Miss Polly ; I'll gib dat nigger he’s |
Miss Polly ! I t’ought fer sho’ you knowed |
| foremost among them. As he hurried to-
{ ward them Dora said, hastily.
‘I do hope Polly won’t think strange of
it, but, you know, Len goes with me every-
| where now.”
| again.
| come up to her, but turned half-way across
the room and went to Mrs. Bell.
| stood just back of that good woman’s chair,
with the kitten’s head peeping in the hol-
low of her neck. Her face was turned
"away ; she was talking gayly with Jack
Bell, who had fetched her a great sheaf of
golden-yellow chrysanthemums.
“Aba! 1 understand, Jack,”
saying. ‘These were never meant for me
| —never in the world. But really Marian
WMontgomery ought to be here.
will come. after all. iler note said she
would, if only Tom got home in time to
| fetch her, It was aggravating his being a
{ grand-juryman at just this time. You see.
that is what you get for being wicked and
needing juries and things, you men. Your
| sweethearts are missing when you'd like to
sce them most.’’
Len’s face hardened, his heart likewise,
: but he shook hands with Polly in the most
friendly and casual fashion, talked lightly
with her for a minute, and ended by tak-
ing the kitten out of her arms.
‘I protest against this fine fellow,” he
said. “What does he know about deep
things like fortane-telling? Where is my
old friend Tip? He's a cat of sense and
judgment. Besides, I have a sort of sneak-
ing notion that he is not above showing
favors to Ins friends.”
“In that case I will go and find him,’
‘Polly said, demurely. Then over hier
i shoulder, as she vanished : “Of course
you will stand beside Dora, Mr. Baxter.
Take your places, all, and be ready to
shake the minute I come back.”
By this time the quilt was outof the
frames, lying in a crumply blue and white
heap upon a chair at the side of the room.
Four gay young fellows seized it, took each
a corner, and stretched it foursquare, call- |
ing as they stretched, each to the girl of
his choice, to come and stand at his elbow.
' Then the other young people ranged them-
selves about the edges, albeit some of the
girls made a feint of pulling away from
their cheosing swains. Dora Gartley
blushed and bridled as Len took her arn
with gentle insistence. She even hung
back a trifle, saying, in a loud whisper :
“Oh, I hate to do it—so foolish, vou
“Oh, come along!” he said. a theught
impatiently. “This way : on the side
next the door. Tip is certain to make for
that, and I want--"’
What he wanted Miss
learned, for as the word left his mouth a
dappér young fellow and a very pretty girl
came hurriedly through the door. They
(were still in riding-gear, and the girl's
. cheeks had
{long gallop. Over the chorus of welcome
Len caught the young man’s words :
{ ‘“‘Here’s the place for you Polly ! Hand
over Tip, and squeeze in at my clbow.”’
“I won’t squeeze in’ anywhere,’’ Polly
retorted, making a face at him, and hold-
ing fast to Tip.
veteran of a hundred fights, and at least a
dozen shakings. Huddled against Polly's
breast, he blinked and yawned as though
the whole matter was a bore to him.
testing miaow, as though asking what the
~ world was coming to, when this frivolous
i disrespect was shown to his years and
whiskers.
“Hold tight now !”” Polly cried out to
| those about the quilt, lifting Tip above her
head, “and tossing him lightly upon its
clastic surface. He rebounded like a ball,
then scrambled to his feet. and looked
about him with an air of questioning dis-
dain.
ing grew stronger when, after a compre-
{hensive survey, Tip lay down with his
i head between his paws, blinking lazily.
{ and with faintly twitching ears.
“Why don’t you shake?’ Polly called,
with dancing eyes. She stood away from
| the quilt, her hands hanging at her sides.
She had agreed to stand up with Jack Bell;
{ now she thrust Marian Montgomery in the
place in her sted. Tom Montgomery had |
i managed to place himself upon Jennie
Crewe’s other hand, to the discomposure of
Ned Lattimer, who had taken her out.
‘Shake !”’ Polly cried again. Jack Bell
heaved a sigh.
“Do you think anything short of an
earthquake will move Tip?” he asked,
tragically.
most coaxing voice : ‘Come, Tip! Good
old Tip ! Come ! Come !”’
| “Of all the unfair things !'—"" Polly be-
gan, then stopped short. It scemed as if a
cyclone had struck the quilt. It shook
and writhed, it rose and fell in balloony
over in the dizziest fashion. Agile veteran
that he was, it took him full three minutes
to get upon his feet, claw and paw his way
toward the edge, and gather himself for a
, spring through the line of shakers. Now
he headed this way, now that ; and cach
of the young men could speak for laughing
was crying and calling out: ““Tip ! Here,
Tip I! “Mice, Tip If
your friends ¥"’ ‘This way, old man !"
Polly was dancing up and down in glee.
With twinkling eyes she ran back of Len
and Miss Gartley, pursed her mouth, and
i made a little soft sound that Tip knew for
a summons to dinner. He was going to-
ward Tom Montgomery and Jennie Crewe.
At Polly’s call he turned square about and
made a flying leap to reach her. It took
him almost against Miss Gartley’s face ; so
close, indeed, she cried out in fear, then
smiled to note that the cat had passed
i directly between herself and young Baxter. |
Then she dropped her eyes |
Len made as though he would |
Polly |
she was |
Maybe she |
know ! And there is really nothing in it.’ |
Gartley never!
the quick red that told of «
Tip was the grizzled !
He;
purred uncertainly, and gave out a pro-
Everybody laughed, and the laugh-
Len held out one hand, saying, in his |
wayes that sent poor Tip rolling over and |
“Don’t you know.
| much to tell and hear. Talking eagerly,
| they went up and down the long reach
| never noting that some one else had come |
out upon it. and stood motionless under
the lantern which lighted the far end.
‘Stop a minute, Montgomery. I have
something that belongs to you—-something
it may interest Miss Poily to see,” the man
{ under the lantern said, as they came up to
him. Polly caught her breath sharply as
{ he spoke, but said, gayly : ‘Why, Mr.
| Baxter ! Have you turned burglar, or got |
yourself made a special grand-juryman to
| find out Tom’s pet sins 2°
“Never mind how I came hy it,” Len
said, recklessly. “It isonly a letter : I
dare say you both remember it.”
*Never saw it in my life, ‘Tom said,
| promptly, beginning to run his eve over
the crumpled and greasy sheet. “Oh! 1
{say ! This is—Good Lord !"” he cried out
as he sensed what was written and caught
i the name below. Holding it fast. he faced
about and caught Polly’s hand. “Do you |
know anything of this document?’ he
asked, nodding toward the paper she had
read over his arm.
Polly’s head went up proudiy. She
save Len a long glance, then said. in her
clearest key, ‘I know when and how it
was written 3 for the rest you must ask
some one else.” :
" “Wheis it??? Tom asked.
Polly laughed as: she answered. 1
. think she is Mrs. George Ricks still, though
the old man has been dead two weeks. But
Ill ask her. She is in the kitchen helping
Aunt Ailsa. Polly! Black Polly! Do
come here and tell Mr. Montgomery some-
thing about a letter you had me write.”
Black Polly came out, wiping hier hands
upon her mourning Hgock, and made her
manners to the gentlemen before she open-
ed her mouth to say : “‘Shucks ! Miss
Polly, T do” ‘anter hare yo’ feelin's, hut
dat dar letter wuz sho conjured. I hadn’
mon gut home wid hit when I lay hic
down dar on de shelf, an” mammy she took
"nn spilt hot fat all on de cornder ob hit.
Den I taken hit up ter Miss Dora at de
‘great house, and she copied hit out fer me,
an’ put in some mo’ I had done thought !
cerbout. Den when I went ter meetin’
! th’ough de rain, erpurpose ter gib hit ter
dat dar Taum, dar he wuz, done married,
[an’ had fotched his wife erlong. So ter git
(eben, I ups an’ marries ole man Gawge
“den an’ dar.”
“Read the letter, aloud I”
imperiously. to Len.
i He began it in a shaken voice ; but be-
fore he had got through three sentences
"black Polly flung up her hands, crying
, out, “Dat de ve’'y same letter you writ fer |
me ; de ve’y one 1 lef” fer Miss Dora ter}
burn up !”’
“I think that explanation explains,”
Tow Montgomery said, with a bow. diaw-
ing his cousin’s hand through his arm and
walking away . :
Polly and Len were married next
Twelfth-night. The Gartleys were hidden |
to the wedding. but somehow found it con-
venient to go for a distant visit about that
time. Mrs. Carter and good Mrs. Bell ex-
tcelled even themselves in the wedding-
ake and the cut paper for trimming it,
cand Marian Montgomery and Jennie Crewe
were brideinaids worthy the bride. Tip
wore a new collar with a big white how on
it, and black Polly. no longer a discon-
solate relict, was full of mysterious conse- |
quence in her place as head of the volun-.
teer waiting-maids. Everybody agreed
i that Polly had donc well, and Len even
better ; also that no bride need want a!
finer setting out than Polly would take to
her new home. .
“But this T shall say to the last day in
i the mornin,”” Mrs. Bell confided to Mus.
| Carter : ‘‘Polly may have a heap finer .
I things, and things worth more money, but
if T was in her place I'd not set any of “em
beside that Ivish chain. If that hadn’c
i been to be quilted just when and as it was.
vou’ll never make me helieve we wouldn't
: be danein® at somebody else’s weddin.’
—Harper’s Bazar.
Polly said,
A Former Pennsylvania Boy's Successfal
Career.
i The governor-elect of Wisconsin, Major
i Edward Scofield, was horn near Clearfield,
' Pa., in 1842.
| was an Irishman, engaged in farming and
lumbering. The hoy attended public
school, and later an academy at Clearfield.
“When Scofield was 13 he found occupation |
at the printing office of the Indiana ** Demo- |
crat, of Indiana, Pa. In 1858 he worked |
i for another newspaper at Breokville, Pa.
{ In 1861 he tendered his services to his
i country, and entered the army as a private |
{ in the Eleventh regiment, Pennsylvania re- |
. R |
| serves. Re-enlisting, he followed the |
| Army of the Potomac to Virginia. For
| gallantry at the battle of Fredericksburg
[he was promoted to a first lieutenancy. |
| At Gettysburg he was commissioned captain |
of Co. K., Eleventh Pennsylvania reserves,
‘‘for meritorious conduct upon the field.”
Captured after the battle of the Wilderness, |
he was at last paroled. Returning home
broken down in health, he found a commis-
sion of major awaiting him ‘‘for gallant
| conduct in the battle of the Wilderness.”
i At-the close —of-the war Mr. Scofield was
23 years old. He next became an assistant |
engineer on the work of the Allegheny Val-
ley railroad. In I86R he went to Chicago
and finally became interested in the lum- |
ber business at Oconto., Wis., and through
thrift and industry soon found himself at
the head of a very large business. In 1887
Polly had strolled with Tom Montgomery
The cousins were |
ing his life.
heated chair given out.
|
His father, Isaac Scofield, |
|
Major Scofield was clected to the state sen-
ate from the First district of Wisconsin. |
In 1894 his fitness for the governorship |
found many advocates.
——Subseribe for the WATCHMAN.
Tortured to Death.
Practical Joke Which Cost an Attorney and Politi-
cian of lowa His LifeWhen He Joined the Elks—The
Jovial Members Placed Him In a Chair With a Shect
Iron Seat—Heated the Same With a Lamp—He was
Horribly Burred, and Blood Foisoning’Finally Cost
Him His Life.
E. W. Curry, Chairman of the Demo-
cratic State Central Committee, died at the
Savoy Hotel in Des Moines, lo., last Friday |
where he has been ill for two months. Mr. |
Curry’s death is the result of injuries receiv-
ed while being initiated into a Des Moines
Lodge'of Elks, blood poisoning having fol-
lowed his injuries. >
As part of the ceremony he was seated in
a chair, with a thin iron seat, and a large
lighted lamp placed under it. It was ex-
pected that he would furnish some amuse-
ment, as it was thought he would jump
out of the chair when the heat became un-
bearable. But he did not jump.
With some friends he had been merry-
making in the afterncon, and when he went
into the hall he was much under the influ-
ence of liquor. It is thought that when he
| was placed in the chair and blindfolded his
sensibilities were so far beniumbed that he |
| was burned severely without knowing it or
being able to move.
SPECTATORS SAW HIM COOK.
The spectators saw him fairly cook for
some time, wondering at his nerve, until
they discovered smoke rising from the
chair. Then he was taken out of it, and
found to be burned horribly. He was tak-
en to his hotel and cared for by the best
physicians. At his own request it was
given out that he was suffering from anoth-
{ er ailment, and the true story did not leak
out till afterwards.
maeh mystery about it.
Even yet there is
Blood poisoning set in soon, and from |
| that time on there was little hope of sav-
He grew worse steadily, and |
| for a large part of the last month of his life
was unconscious. He manifested wonder-
‘ful vitality, and lived a week after the doe-
tors pronounced his death a matter of only
a few hours.
The story of how his injuries were con-
tracted was given out hy members of the
Elks Lodge, after an evening paper had
published a much more sensational story.
It was that, instead of a- heated chalr, he
was placed on an electrical chair. and a
light currant turned on, in the expectation
of making Lim squirm.
He showed no discomfort. and the cur-
rent was increased several tines without
producing an apparent effect. Then the
smoke was seen, and he was taken out. half
electrocuted.
A STORY PRINTED AND BENIED.
The story was printed in great detail and
denied promptly, and the story about the
The mystery has
caused a great sensation. The Elks after
their session had noth-ing to uy except
to repeat their carlier version.
There has heen no disposition on the
part of Mr. Cuiry’s femily to blame the
members of the order, who have done all in
their power for him during his illness.
Mis. Curry and her daughter, the only
members of the family, carnestly desired
that Mr. Currys frequently expressed wish
that the truth should never he made pub-
lic should be carried out. :
Mr. Curry lived at Leon, Ia., and was a
prominent lawyer in Southern Towa: He
was 4% vears old and had been a leader in
State politics for several years. He wasa
close friend of C. A. Walsh, Secretary of
the National Committee, and an andent
silver man.
Laughter a Disease.
An Actual Case of a Man Who Began Laughing from
His Toes Upward.
Do you laugh? ‘Then vou have been at-
tacked by a disease, for laughteris a dis-
ase.
cases which have come under the notice of
eminent neurologists.
even moderate laughter a symptom of ner-
vous hysteria. .
People have died of laughter. Irom
Austria comes’a curious account of a man
suffering from a nervous disease that mani-
fested itself in paroxy=ms of laughter. The |
patient was thirty years of age and had |
heen subject for three years to fits of
laughter, which ocemrred at tirst every
two or three months, gradually increasing
in frequency to a dozen or more a day.
The attacks occurred especially hetween
9 in the evening and 6:30 in the morning,
and in greatest frequency between 5 and
6:30 o'clock. In the intervals between
the attacks, and immediately before and
afterward, the man was perfectly well.
| The attack commenced with a tickling sen-
, sation arising from the toes of the left foot.
The patient would fall to the groufd;
where he could lie down. At the height
of the attack the patient first smiled
and then laughed aloud without any appa-
rent cause for the excessive merriment.
The entire act occupied about two mom-
Lents,
Bryan's Engagement.
Will Begin His Series of Lectures in Atlanta Next
Month—Subject Not Broken.
SPRINGFIELD, Mo., Nov. 22.—The party
of distinguished hunters returned from
their expedition in Taney county last
night. A large crowd was at the depot to
receive the late presidential candidate.
When he stepped from the platform of the
| car he was greeted with cheers.
The entire party attended a play in the |
opera house last night. The theatre was
packed to the doors, and, when Bryan ap-
peared in a box, accompanied hy Senator
Jones, Governor Stone, Chairman Cook and
others, the crowd went wild. There was
a continual cry for a speech from Bryan.
and he delivered a short address, speaking
mostly on the silver question.
He said the Republican party had adver-
tised its goods, and unless the goods are as
good as advertised the people would not
buy the same quality again in 1900.
Mr. Bryan left at 11:15 o'clock last night
for Kansas City en route to Lincoln, and
will arrive in Denver Tuesday morning.
He stated to a correspondent that he will
deliver a series of lectures, but he has not
as vet selected his subject, althongh silver
will nov be omitted. He will make his
first appearance at Atlanta next month.
A Cracksman’s Great Discovery.
“I'Ve cracked more than 70 safes in my |
time,’’ said a Chicago burglar to. Sheriff
Pease the other night while awaiting trans- |
fer to the Joliet penitentinry to serve a:
seven-year sentence, ‘but I've never used
anything except powder. dynamite and
nitroglycerine. If I live to finish this bit
at Joliet, I'll do a little work afterward
that will astonish the boys. [ can cut
through almost any safe in Chicago inside
of two hours with cleetrigity, ~and without
making enough noise to’ waken a cat. [
got that pointer from the electrical display
at the World's fair, and I've been working
at it ever since. It ix entirely feasible I'll
prove it to yoa by and by.’ —Chicago
| Times- Herald.
This has been proven by numerous |
They have declared |
FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN:
9 Mrs. D. H. Marsh of Groton, N. Y., has
! heen elected president of the First National
| bank of that city, to fill the vacancy by the
death of her hushand. Mrs. Marsh has
| been one of the stockholders and directors.
| The office of bank president has never be-
| fore been held by a woman in that part of
' the country.
Almost the first thing one notices is that
| storm collars are much in evidence for hoth
| capes and coats of fur and that the wrap in
stole effect which made its debut last win-
| ter is receiving great attention in this, its
| second, season. Capes, too, are growing
larger ; and muffs—well, these are of im-
mense size and in every shape conceivable.
The bicycle craze has had a decided in-
I fluence in making the wasp waist less fash-
ionable. For years the I'rench and Ameri-
| can women not endowed with small waists
| have resorted to every available means to
| secure that chic appearance so dear to every
| feminine heart, and of which a small waist
| has always heen a leading feature.
They have listened courteously to the
warning against tight lacing and given
| their corsets an extra twist as a commen-
‘tary. The laws of health have little
| weight when they do not harmonize with
| the laws of fashion. :
With fashion’s decree that outdoor sports
(of all sorts are the proper caper for the
| women of to-day to follow comes the loosen-
ing of corset strings and the adoption of a
corset built upon the natural figure, which
| is very different from the extremely high-
| bust corset with the long waistline and
| narrow hips, which invariably throws the
bust and hips out of place.
Fivery person ought to know that super-
fluous flesh which is compressed in any
part of the body must go somewhere. The
pitiable contrast between a small waist,
protruding hips and a two prominent ab-
doman has heen in evidence too long. A
change ought to be hailed with delight,
not ouly by the women, to whom it means
better health, a move pleasing figure and
casy carriage, hut by the manufacturer and
| retailer.
It is notorious that the vetailer has many
corsets returned with the complaint,
‘These corsets have been broken at the
waist, and I've only worn them two or
three times.” In order to retain the pat-
vonage of the customer the merchant must
give her a new pair of corsets, while, as a
matter of fact. it was not that the corset
had given poor service, but that in the first
place the customer had insisted upon pur-
chasing a corset inadequate to the propor-
tions of her tigure.
The English woman has always shown
sood sense in ue selection of her corset,
buying from the coset standard, that of
comfortably fitting the hips rather than
squeezing the waist. The accepted waist
measure for this season is fully three inches
larger than has Leen in vogue, the length
of the front measuring about 12 inches, the
corset tapering up over the hips.
One of the newest corsets designed by
the French is much, shorter than those in
vogue the past season, with the addition of
silk eldstic webbing extending from the up-
per line of the bust cup to a sharp point
Just below the line of the waist cither side
i of the clasp.
Revers on the newest bodiees it is observed
have square or curved corners : the sharp
| pointed triangle is now rarely seen. There
is no end to the varieties in sleeves ; but
anything which has some soit of a small
puff at the top and is close-titting below ix
in the mode.
To clean carpets have some hot soapy
water and a woolen cloth. Wring the
cloth partially out and rub well. Then
take a cotton cloth, tightly wrung out of
water, and rub well. It will make a car-
pet like new, and is much pleasanter to use
than oxgall.
A dainty table is a mark of gowd hreed-
ing, and an untidy table proclaims to all
beholders a lack in the housewife of all the
finer sensibilities. It really does not take
a great deal more time, and not much more
rouble to set the table attractively and to
I serve the food in a daihty, appetizing way,
"and the gain is inestimable. A little
(green for garnishing the . meat plate
can always be procured; water is plen-
tiful in most places, soap is cheap and
jevery day is twenty-four hours long.
Iso that there is
[linen on the table. There is no place
| where thoughtful care is more needed or
| move productive of gratifving results.
| Make the children learn to he careful of
the cloth and the napkins, they can be
taught to be neat at the table’ as well as in
| dress.
. The fashionable neck hows of mull and
, chiffon are not only a pretty addition to
! the corsage, but a great hoon to beauty, as
they lend a charm to the face by softening
the features.
The upper teeth should be brushed down-
~wards, and the lower teeth upwards from
i the gums. Do not brush the teeth cross-
| ways, as they are apt to become loosened,
rand the gums will also suffer. The inside
{of the teeth should also be brushed in the
same way. Tepid water is the best to use
. both for cleaning the teeth and rinsing thé
. mouth out afterwards.
The toothbrush should be small and
{ curved, so that the brush can get in all the
| interstices of the teeth. It should not be
| too hard, and, when a new toothbrush is
purchased, it should be soaked in water for
i several hours before using. If the brush
is dried on a towel after being used, and
stood up on end in the air, it will last
much longer. Toothbrushes should never
be kept in a closed receptacle.
{Tooth powders should be chosen with
great discretion. For general use the fol-
lowing will be found a very good powder :
Mix together hali an ounce of powdered
bark, a quarter of an ounce of myrrh, one
drachm of camphor and one ounce of pre-
pared chalk.. Another simple receipt is as
follows : Add two ounces of camphorated
chalk, two drachms of very fine powdered
borax, half an ounce of powdered orrisroot
"and half adrachm of powdered myrrh ; mix
. the ingredients thoroughly together, and
‘ keep the powder in a bottle.
All good [ur capes are rather short and
almost as wide as those of last year, while
the cheap ones are long as the old fashioned
{ coachman’s cape in spite of the decline in
the dress sleeves. The collars are much
higher, quite covering the back of the head
{ with points behind and on each side. The
| smartest linings are of moires and satins in
i plain colors, but light plaid or stripe being
{ almost as desirable, 1f not quite so new.
[ The pelerine shape is worn, there heing two
i long ends in front, and a plain back fitted
i in at the waistline. In seal it is very ele-
{ gant, the fullness flaring over the arms and
| broad sable collar lying upon the should-
ers about the standing one of seal.
small excuse for soiled -
st
maa