6
TAKE HEART.
Though fearful storms have swept In
wralh
About thy toilsome, rugged path,
And thou hast ofttimes been cast down
And sore dismayed by Fortune's frown.
Faint not. but bravely bear thy part,
O fellow man; once moro take heart.
The storm is followed by the calm,
And winter pales by airs of balin.
Dark night gives place to sun-bright day;
Let Hope still . # r Hue 011 thy way,
Beyond the cloud still shines the sun;
Press on until thy work is done.
Perchance thou many times hast failed.
Borne weakness over thee prevailed,
And thou hast faltered in the strife
And sadly rued thy blighted life;
Though great thy grief and keen thy
pain
O weary one, take heart again!
Dwell not upon thy mournful past.
Arise, and for thy right stand fast;
Be strong and brave, fold not thy hands.
For thee still flows life's golden sands;
To better things sweet voices call
But God In love rules over all.
—John Allen Guilford, In Boston Tran
script.
GEMEPAI— Ml SI 11
[Copyright. 1897, by F Tennyson Neely.J
CHAPTER VI.—CONTINUED.
Reassuring' as he meant his words
to be, Marshall Dean himself looked
anxiously about at the unprotected
walls. Not even the customary "dug
out" or underground refuge seemed to
have been prepared. Almost every
homestead, big or little, of those days,
had its tunnel from the cellar to a
dugout near at hand, stocked with
provisions and water and provided
with loopholes commanding the neigh
borhood, and herein the besieged
could take refuge and stand off the
Indians until help should come from
,the nearest fort. "The name of Fol
corn is our safeguard," said Mrs. Ilal,
In her happy honeymoon days, but
that was before the mother told her
of the threats of Burning Star or the
6tory of the Ogallalla girl he vainly
loved. "All that happened so long ago,"
she murmured, when at last the talo
was told. But Ilal should have known,
if she did not, that even when it
jeeems to sleep Indian vengeance is
but gaining force and fury.
Presently Mrs. Ilal came tripping
forth again, a little carte de visite in
her hand, a smile of 110 little signili
cance on her lips. "Now, Mr. Dean,
will j-ou tell me what you think of that
for a pappoose?"
And with wonderment in his eyes
the young officer stoil and held it and
gazed.
There stood Pappoose, to be sure,
but what a change! The little maiden
with the dark braids of hair hanging
far below her waist had developed into
a tall slender girl, with clear-cut oval
face, crowned by a mass of dark tress
es. lier heavy, low-arching brows
spanned the thoughtful deep, dark
brown eyes that seemed to speak the
soul within and the beautiful face was
lighted up with a smile that showed
just a peep of faultless white teeth,
gleaming through the warm curves of
her soft, sensitive lips. The form was
exquisitely rounded, yet supple and
ereet.
"Hasn't Jessie written you of how
Nell has grown and improved?" said
Mrs. Hall with a woman's quick note
of the admiration and surprise in
Dean's regard.
"She must have."was the answer,
"I'm sure she has, but perhaps 1
thought it schoolgirl rhapsody—per
haps 1 had too many other things to
think of."
"Perhaps 3'ou'll find it superseding
these too many other things, Mr. Sol
dier Boy," was Mrs. Hal's mental com
ment. "Now, sir, if you've gazed
enough perhaps you'll tell me your
plans," and .she stretched forth a re
claiming hand.
But he hung onto the prize. "Let me
keep it a minute," he pleaded. "It's
theloveliest thing I've seen in months."
And, studying his absorbed face, she
yielded, her eyebrows arching, a pret
ty smile of feminine triumph about her
lips, and neither noticed the non-com
missioned officer hurrying within the
gate, nor that half the men in "C"
troop at their bivouac along the
stream were on their feet and gazing
to northeast, that far down the valley
a horseman was speeding like the
wind, that little puffs of smoke were
rising from the crests of the grand
landmark of the range and floating
into the blue of the heavens. Both
started to their feet at the abrupt an
nouncement.
"Lieutenant, there are smoke sig
nals on Lar'mie Peak."
CHAPTER VII.
Lieut. Dean's orders required that
he should march his troop without un
necessary delay to Fort Emory, there
to take station relieving troop F, or
dered to change to Frayne, which
meant, in so many words, to take the
field. Capt. Brooks, still wrestling with
the fever, had retired to his quarters
at the old frontier fort that stood so
long on the bluffs overlooking the fords
of the Platte. The surgeon said lie
♦ must remain in bed at least a week,
60 meantime the troop packed up,
cent its wagons ahead over the range,
bade God speed to F as it passed
through en route to the front, ex
changed a volley of chaff and chewing
tobacco over the parting game fcf
"freeze out" fought to a finish on
many an outspread saddle blanket,
ithen jogged on toward Gal® City,
making wide detour at the oug
gestion of the field officer it» com
mand at Frayne, that they might
scout tire Laramie plains anil see
that all was well at Folsom's ranch.
This detour was duly reported to the
peppery veteran at Fort Emory, an old
colonel whose command was by this
1 inie reduced from "headquarters, field,
staff and. band," six companies of in
fantry and four troops of cavalry to
the band and two desperately over-
companies of foot. "Two
nights in bed" were all his men could
hope for, and sometimes no more than
one, so grievous was the guard duty.
Hence "old Pecksniff," his adjutant and
quartermaster and his two remaining
companies saw fit to take it as most
unkind in Lieut. Col. Ford to authorize
that diversion of Dean's, and highly im
proper on Dean's part to attempt it.
By this time, too, there was in cir
culation at Emory a story that this
transfer of C to interior lines and
awr.y from probable contact with the
Sioux was not so much that it had
done far more than its share of that
arduous work, completely using up its
captain, as that, now the captain was
used l up, the authorities had their
doubts as to the "nerfe" of the lieu
tenant in temporary command. A fel
low who didn't care to come to Emory
and preferred rough duty up along the
Platte must be lacking iu some essen
tial particular, thought, the women
folk, and tit the very moment that
Marshall Dean sat there at Hal Fol
som's ranch, as brave and hardy and
capable a young officer as ever forded
the Platte, looking forward with pleas
urable anticipations to those days to
come at Emory, with .Tessie—Jessie
and, of course, Pappoose—so close at
hand in town, there was gaining
ground at the post an impression that
the safety of the board of officers sent
to choose the site of the new Big Horn
post had been imperiled by Dean's
weakening at a critical moment in
presence of a band of probably hostile
Sioux. Burleigh had plainly intimated
as much to his chief clerk and Col.
'Stevens, and when Loring and' Stone
came through a day or two later and
questions were asked about that meet
ing, the aid-de-camp gave it as dis
tinctly to be understood that he had
practically assumed command, Dean's
inexperience being manifest, and his
own prompt measures had extricated
the little detachment from a most deli
cate and dangerous position. The en
gineer, let it be said, did not hear this
statement, and the aid was very care
ful not to make it in his presence. He
was a comparative stranger, and as no
one presumed to question him he vol
unteered no information.
l'lanningtobivouac until dawn of the
next day at Folsom's, Dean had then in
tended to reach Fort Emory in three
easy marches. lie was anxious to
bring his horses in in best possible con
dition, despite all their hard service;
yet now, barely two o'clock on this hot
June afternoon, came most unlooked
for, most importunate interruption
to his plans. Springing to the gate at
the sergeant's summons, he first direct
ed his gaze to the distant peaks, recog
nized instantly the nature of the smoke
puffs there rising, then turned for ex
planation lo the swift-riding courier,
whose horse's heels were making the
dust fly from the sun-dried soil. One
or two ranch hands, with anxious faces,
came hastening over from the corral.
The darky cook rushed up from the
kitchen, rifle in hand. Plainly those
fellows were well used to war's alarms.
Mrs. Folsom, with staring eyes and
dreadful anxiety in her face, gazed
only at the hurrying courier, clinging
the while to the pillar of the portico,
as though needing support. The smoke
puffs 011 the mountain, the dust-cloud
back of the tearing rider were symp
toms enough for Dean.
"Get in your herd, sergeant!" he
shouted, at the top of his voice; and
over the rushing of the Laramie his
words reached the rousing bivouac,
and saddle blankets were sent swing
ing in air in signal to the distant
guards, and within a few seconds every
horse was headed for home; and then,
to the sound of excited voices was add
ed the rousing thunder of scores of
bounding hoofs, as, all in a dust-cloud
of their own, the sixty chargers came
galloping in, ears erect, eyes ablaze,
nostrils wide, manes and tails stream
ing in the blaze, guided by their eager
guards full tilt for camp. Out ran
their riders, bridles in hand, to meet
and check them, every horse when
within a few yards of his master seem
ing to settle 011 his haunches and plow
up the turf in the sudden efl'ort to
check his speed, long months of service
011 the plains and in the heart of Indian
land having taught them in times of
alarm or peril that the quicker they
reached the guiding hand and bore,
each, his soldier on his back, the
quicker would vanish the common foe.
liven before the panting steed of the
headlong courier came within hailing
distance of the ranch, half the horses
in the troop were caught and the bits
were rattling between their teeth;
then, as the messenger tore along the
gentle slope that led to the gateway,
his wearied horse laboring painfully
at the rise, Mrs. Folsom recognized one
of her husband's herdsmen, a man who
had lived long years in Wyoming and
could be unnerved by no false alarm,
and her voice went up in a shriek of
fear as she read the tidings in his al
most ghastly face.
"Where is Hal?" she screamed. "Oh,
what has happened?"
"He's safe," was the answering call,
as the rider waved a reassuring hand,
but at the instant he bent low.
"Thank God, you're here, lieutenant,"
he gasped. "Mount quick. Hal's cor
ralled two miles out there under the
butte —Sioux!" And then they saw
that he was swooning, that the blood
w as streaming down the left thigh and
leg, and before hand could help him,
he rolled senseUss, doubled up in the
dust at. his hyrse's feet, and the weary
creature never even started.
"Saddle up, men!" rang the order
CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, JANUARY 3, 1901.
across tlie stream. And then while
strong arms lij'ted and bore the wound
ed herdsman to the porch, Dean turned
to the wailing- mistress, who, white
faced and terror-stricken, was wring
ing her hands and moaning' and run
ning wildly up and down the walk and
calling for some one togo and save
her husband. Dean almost bore her to
a chair and bade her fear nothing, lie
and liis men would lose not a moment.
On the lloor at her feet lay the little
card photograph, audi Dean, hardly
thinking what he did, stooped, picked
it up and placed it in the pocket of his
hunting shirt, just as the trumpeter
on his plunging gray reached the gate.
Dean's big, handsome charger trotting
swiftly alongside. In an instant the
lieutenant was in saddle, in another
second a trooper galloped up with his
belt and carbine. Already the men
were leading into line across the
stream, and, bidding the trumpeter tell
Sergt. Shaughnessy to follow at speed,
the young ollicer struck spur to his
horse and, carbine in hand, a single
trooper at his heels, away he darted
down the valley. C troop, splashing
through the ford a moment later, took
the direct road past the stockade of
the corral, disappeared from sight a
moment behind that wooden fortiiica
tion and, when next it hove in view, it
was galloping front into line far down
the Laramie, then once more vanished
behind) its curtain of dust.
"Two miles out there under the
butte," was the only indication the
young officer had of the scene of the
fight, for fight he knew it must be,
and even as he went bounding down
the valley he recalled the story of the
Indian girl, the threats of Burning
Star, tiie vowed vengeance of her
brothers. Could it be that, taking ad
vantage of this raid of lied Cloud, far
from all the reservations, far from
possibility of detection by count of pry
ing agents, -the three had induced a
gang of daring, devil-may-care young
warriors to slip away from the Big
Horn with them and, riding stealthily
away from the beaten trails, to ford
the Platte beyond the ken of watch
ful eyes at Fetterman and sneak
through the mountain range to the
beautiful, fertile valley beyond, and
there lie in wait for Hal Folsom or for
those he loved? What was to prevent?
Well they knew the exact location of
his ranch. They had fished and sport
ed all about it in boy days—days when
the soldiers and the Sioux were all
good friends, days before the mistaken
a-L n i//
He waved a ragged abject on high.
policy of a post commander had led
to an attack upon a peaceful band, and
that to the annihilation of the attack
ing party. From that fatal day of the
Grattan massacre ten years before,
there had been no real truce with the
Sioux, and now. was opportunity af
forded for a long-plotted revenge.
Dean wondered Folsom had not looked
for it insteadi of sleeping in fancied
security.
A mile nearer the butte and, glanc
ing back, he could see his faithful
men come bounding in his tracks. A
mile ahead, rising abruptly from the
general level, a little knoll or butte
jutted out. beyond the shoulders of
the foothills and stood sentinel with
in three hundred yards of the stream.
On the near—the westward-side, noth
ing could be seen of horse or man.
Something told him he would find the
combatants beyond—that dead or
alive, Ilal Folsom would be there
awaiting him. A glance at the com
manding heights and the ridge that
connected it with the tumbling, wood
ed hills to the north, convinced him
that at that moment some of the foe
were lurking there, watching the
westward valley, and by this time
they knew full well of the coming of
the cavalry to the rescue, liy this
time, more than likely, they were
scurrying off to the mountains again,
returning the way they came, with a
start of at least two miles.
"With or without the coveted
scalps?" he wondered. Thus far he
had been riding straight for the butte.
The road wound around and disap
peared behind him, bTit there was no
sonse in following the road. "Pursue
and punish," was the thing to be
done. Surely not more than a dozen
were in the band, else that courier
could never have hoped to get in,
wounded as he was. The Indians were
too few in number to dare follow to
the ranch, guarded as, by almost God
given luck, it happened to be through
the unlooked-for presence of the
troops. No, it was a small band,
though a daring one. Its lookout had
surely warned it by tliis time of his
coming, nnd by this time, too, all
save ojie or two who rode the fleetest
ponies and lingered probabiy for a
parting shot at the foremost ef the
chase, had scampered away behind
the curtain of that ridge. Therefore,
in long curve, never checking his
magnificent stride. Dean guided his
bounding bay to the left—the north
east —and headed fur the lowest point
of the divide.
And then it all occurred to him too
that he was far in front of his men,
too far to be of use to them and just
far enough to be an easy prey for
the lurking foe. Then, too, it occurred
to him that he must not leave the
ranch unprotected. Already he was
within long rifle range of the height;
already probably some beady eye was
glancing through the sights, and the
deadly tube was covering him as h>•
came bounding on. Three hundred
yards more and his life probably
wouldn't be worth a dollar in con
federate money, and wisely the young
leader began to draw rein, and, turn
ing In saddle, signaled to his single
companion, laboring along one hun
dred yards behind, to hasten to join
him. Presently the trooper came
spurring up,a swarthy young Ger
man, but though straining every
nerve, the troop was still a mile away.
"Ride back, Wegner, and tell the
sergeant to take ten men around that
side-—the south side of the bluff," and
he pointed with his hand; "the rest to
come straight to me."
Oh, well was it for Dean that he
checked his speed, and as the young
dragoon went sputtering back, that
he himself drew rein anil waited for
the coming of his men. Suddenly from
far out along the ridge in front, from
the very crest, there leaped a jot or
two of lire and smoke. Two litfle
spurts of dust and turf flew up from
the prairie sod a dozen yards in front,
a rilie bullet went singing off through
the sunny air, Rabb, his handsome
bay, pawed the ground and switched
about, and up on the crest, riding
boldly in full view, two lithe, naked,
painted warriors, war bonnets trailing
over their ponies' croups, yelling shrill
insult and derision, went tearing away
northward, one cf them pausing long
enough to wave some ragged object
on high and give out ringing, exultant
whoop ere he disappeared from view,
"It's a scalp, lieutenant," shouted
the foremost sergeant as he came up
to join his chief. "They've got one,
anyhow."
"Come on, then, and we'll get it
back," was the only answer, as with
nearly thirty troopers stringing out
behind them, the two launched out in
chase.
[To Be Continued ]
QUIETED THE INDIANS.
Dlakop Whipple'* Method of Sub
duing Ucfmctory nnd Ile
bi'lllouN llraveN.
Most interesting is Bishop Whipple's
account of the manner in which he
once prevented an Indian outbreak,
says 11. B. Merwin, in Atlantic.
"Courteousness of speech," he says,
"is a marked characteristic of the In
dian. It is an act of great rudeness
to interrupt another, and the last
words of every speech are: 'I have
done.' Knowledge of this fact once
enabled me to settle a serious difficul
ty. The Indians at Leech Lake had
heard—as was the fact —that the gov
ernment had sold all their pine with
out their knowledge and consent."
All uprising was imminent, and the
Indians had already killed tne govern
ment cattle. Bishop) Whipple was re
quested by the president togo to
Leech Lake and negotiate with the In
dians. "It was in the dead of winter,
the thermometer below zero, and the
snow deep. It was a journey of 75
miles through the forest, and it took
us three days to reach the lake. The
Indians came to their council in paint
and feathers, angry anil turbulent."
Flatmoutli, their chief, made a violent
speech, to which fire bishop replied
briefly, as follows: "I shall tell you
the truth. It will not be pleasant to
ifry red brother. When you killed
those cattle, you struck the Great
Father in the face. When you stole
those goods, you cf*i|imitted a crime.
I am not here to tell you what the
Great Father will do. He lias not told
me. If he does what he ought to do,
he will arrest those who have com
mitted this crime, if it takes 10,000
men."
"As I expected," the bishop relates,
"She chief was very angry, and,
springing to his feet, began to talk
violently. I folded my arms and sat
down. When he paused, I said quiet
ly: 'Flatmoutli, are you talking, or
am T talking? If you are talking, I
will wait till you Wave finished; if I
am talking, you may wait till I have
finished.' The Indians all shouted:
'IIo! ho!' Their chief had committed
a great breach of courtesy toward me,
their friend.
"Overwhelmed with confusion, Flat
mouth sat down, and I knew that the
ground was mine. I then told them
that when I heard > of the pine sale I
wrote to Washington and protested
against it; that I went to the man
who bought the pine, and told him
that I should oppose the sale and car
ry the matter into the courts."
Got wlint lie Ajtkcd For.
"So you are looking for a position,"
said the merchant to the youth with
high collar and noisy necktie. "What
can you do?"
"Oh, any old thing," replied the
young man."Of I don't exjieet
the junior partnership at the start,
but I want to be sure of an early rite."
"Very well," replied the merchant,
"I'll make you assistant janitor. You
will rise at four o'clock every morning
and sweep the floors." Collier's
Weekly.
Uiji Ambition Crushed.
Weary Wraggles—Why so sad, Lone
some?
Lonesome Samy—Dis paper a
man wot's born in a foreign coutitry
can't never be president of de United
States.
"Well, what of it?"
"Bat wtiz de one job I've alius be'n
lookin' for'ard ter!"—N. Y. World.
Evidence of Advancing Year*.
Jones —I must be getting old.
Smith—Legs getting stiff, or eyes
getting bad?
Jones —No; but I'm beginning to
like to read statistics.—Chicago Rec
ord.
A WINDOW BOOKCASE.
Oriui iih* nln 1 Piece of Furniture Thill
Can He Made <t t I lie Kxpeuse of
Very Kittle Money.
A window bookcase and writing
desk is a novel and useful piece of
furniture for almost any room, and
while it. may seem an odd idea for
the embellishment of a window, its
adaptability can readily be appre
ciated from a glance at the illustra
tion, which was drawn from a case
actually made and in use.
This is a piece of furniture that
any carpenter can make from clear
pine or white wood at a nominal cost,
and it may be painted or stained and
varnished as a matter of choice.
An inexpensive one can be con
structed from boxes and boards with
matched edges, a few feet, of cornice
molding, some hardware, and with
the tools to be found in most any
home.
Two boxes of equal size are select
ed for the base, and to the open sides
WINDOW BOOKCASE.
doors are attached by means of
hinges. These boxes are placed on
end so as to support the desk ledge
and bookcases.
Three boards are driven together
and placed across the upper ends of
them, and made fast with screws.
The bookcases can be two long
shoe boxes of even size, and arranged
with shelves somewhat as shown in
the drawing.
Across the top a shelf is placed and
made fast. This will bind the cases
together and prevent them from mov
ing, while at the same time the bot
tom of each box can be made fast to
the desk top.
Simple curtains of some light mate
rial are fastened at the top and half
way down at the front of the cases
by means of light rods and rings, so
that when desired they may be drawn
across to hide the shelving and books.
Drawers can be made in the lower
cases to accommodate writing mate
rials, and the closets below them will
be quite large enough to harbor mag
azines, pamphlets, etc.
Half-way from the desk ledge to the
top of the window a shelf can be ar
ranged to hold two or three glass
bowls from which growing vines can
climb on the curtains or on fine wires
strung across from case to case.
The shelving in the cases should
be placed the proper distances apart
to accommodate books of various
sizes, the smaller volumes at the top
and the larger ones at the bottom as
shown. —St. Louis Globe-- mocrat.
BABY'S CREEPING RUG.
It Should He Made of Strong; Material
and as a* the Xuraery
Will Permit.
The creeping rug has quite taken
the place.of the creeping bag for the
baby, as the former allows mpre free
dom to the little one, who is less
hampered than by the clumsy bag
gathered about its chubby knees.
For the creeping rug some strong,
firm material should be used. Canton
flannel is sometimes employed. It
should be doubled and the edges
bound with bright braid or finished
with buttonhole stitching in colored
wool. Denim is even more desirable
than the flannel, as, having a smooth
er surface, the child can creep over
it more easily and not drag it up into
bunches.
The rug is generally bordered with
a procession of animals, cut from a
contrasting material—cioth, linen or
cotton, and appliqued near the outer
edge of the rug. Instead of making
the animals from a single bright color
of cloth, it is better to have the rug
of a bright hue and the animals, as
far as possible, in natural colors. An
effective rug is made of blue denim,
with a border of black cats in all pos
sible attitudes and antics.
As to size, the rug should be as
large as the nursery will permit. Too
6mall a rug is practically worthless,
because the baby is never on it.—N.
V. Tribune.
Womn U'H I". 11 In ris«'il Sphere.
Women earn their daily bread in
ulniost every branch of human indus
try. Women make or help to make
eotlins, bricks, tiles, sewer pipes,
tools, boxes, barrels, furniture. They
arj in all the professions; they are
vtockholders and partners in various
kinds of business, and as to the more
conventional occupations of women
they are galore. In the more unusual
ways we have hud a woman an
thropologist, a woman forester, wom
en who mine and women who deal
in stocks. One woman spent 50 years
making a bead house and lately was
found dead with her unfinished work
before her.
CAROL WITH A CAUTION.
Rev. Dr. Robert C'ollyer Tnlki AUoal
Cli r1 s I « Glvin k a" <1 lira hi
a Moral.
ever was
1 more beloved by
l\ t hose who know
him than l!ev. Dr.
Bobert Collyer, for
asked," a few year.
sr/i/ vvV * ago, to say some
thing' abo ut
Christmas and Christmas giving he ex
pressed himself as follows:
"When I was a boy in Scotland I used
to get up at four o'clock Christmas
morning, and a crowd of us would go
through the village shouting at the
top of our voices: 'A merr.v Christmas!
Wake up! Wake lip!' This sounded
the keynote to our Christmas. There
was little gift-giving; it was necessari
ly a frugal holiday, but it was full of
good-natured merriment and we felt
the thrill of the true Christmas spirit.
It was and is a glorious time. It is
'he children's carnival; the midsummer
of charity; the spring-tide of good will
to men; the time of year when the
heavens open .and angels come down
to sing in the lone reaches of new
colonies, to people in hospitals, poor
houses, and mansions, and 'the hut.
where poor men lie.' 1 would not de
grade the beautiful festival by overdo«
ing it. The man who does most for
his fellow-men, according to his means,
does best.
"Still, I think it is not hard to see
how we may spare even at the Christ
mas-tide, and do more and bet ter than
if we spend. If a man spends the
money he ought to save to pay his
debts, when he knows very well that
he can pay them only by saving, the
giving what he buys right and left
with an open hand, is to his own shame.
Not a penny ought to be laid out in
gifts we can well let alone. We should
never spend when we ought to spare,
especially if we have families. One of
the saddest things I have seen in my
life has been families left destitute
through a certain easy-going generosi
ty in the man out of whose life they
sprang, who laid up nothing for a
rainy day. I can easily imagine how
such a man would be glad to exchange
his harp and crown, if he should find
himself in Heaven, for good six-per
cent. stock—supposing a man could go
there who. through his own careless
ness. has left a wife and family of lit
tle children without a penny in the
world."
NO FRAME HOUSES.
South Africa n Great Deal ol
lirlck anil Cement in
11 ii i 1 il 111 £.
South Africa is without a peer as
a customer for cement, says United
States Consul General Stowe at Cape
Town in a recent communication to
the department of state, according to
the Washington Star. All the build
ings there, he says, all the ware
houses, stores and residences, are
built of brick, cemented on the out
side, and no wood or "frame" house,
are to be seen.
The bricks used in South Africa
are larger than American bricks, and
are "laid up" principally with "mud,"
the inferior clay found in that region,
instead of lime mortar or cement.
The cement comes into plav in the
outside finish of the buildings. It is
laid over the whole surface, and the
expert Malay masons in South Africa
produce very pleasing and unique ef
fects in finishing tip caps, columns
and moldings, closely imitating the
natural stone in this decorative work.
A striking effect is produced by
"spattering" some of the larger
buildings with cement, which pre
sents a rough exterior very striking
and pleasing to the eye, and also dur
able.
The greater part of the cement im
ported into South Africa last year,
states the consul general, came from
Great Britain, and over 125,000,000
pounds the country, all told.
"When I left the United States," says
Mr. Stowe, "our manufacturers of ce
ment were producing an article which
was proved by tests to be as good as
the English, and that cement ought
to find a large market here. While
the United States at the present time
would be hampered on account of the
excessive steamship rates to this
country, which would prevent compe
tition with the German and Belgian
cements, yet I am convinced with
equal rates the United States cement
could find a market here in large
quantities. Cement of the desired
quality will never be manufactured
here, as the ingredients do not exist."
IleMt Way to Treat Sprain*.
In treating a sprain wring a folded
flannel out of boiling water by lay
ing it in a thick towel and twisting
the ends in opposite directions; shake
it to cool it a little, lay it on the
painful part and cover it with a piece
of dry flannel. Change the fomenta
tions until six have been applied, be
ing careful not to have them so hot
as to burn the skin. Bandage the
part if possible and in six or eight
hours repeat the application. As
soon as it can be borne rub well with
extract of witch hazel. —Ladies' Home
Journal.
Piiiiit Si»of« nn Dresn.
If these are rubbed at once with
turpentine they come off quite easi
ly, but if they have been allowed to
dry a little ammonia should be mixed
with the turpentine, provided it is a
"fast color" mateiial. If the color is
one that is likely to be injured, drop
a little sweet oil on the spot, then
rub with turpentine, removing the
grease spot afterward by rubbing
with benzine or ether. •