6 ' ———, SEVEN QUESTIONS OF LIFE. I. An inluiit, wailing la his fright At landing In this world of fret; Afraid of dark, afraid of light. With unknown troubles to bo met; We cry: "Ah, K-O the lovely pet!" And "How much money will he set?" 11. Whei- into joyous youth he's grown We wateh and weigh each chosen friend, We ask it wild oats ho has sown, A il >|>' ik ol v.ay ; - that he should mend. And often tit-t and distrust blend In "How ir.\ h money does hi: spend?" 111. Wli 'ii to th j> litems of this life He in tn i IVI Income awake. And think of iji ttiag home and wife— Whit form ti nt! ics our question take? Our thoughts thus Into speed) will break: "W. 11. li'i'.> much money does he mak IV. In mfddl 1 ■ IMS Ii come S- d.'' iy •!: i.iii.'d and staid. Aid ol his i intei ince ?o Brum •V times v. I'.mo-t feel afraid. 1; in i :irs we wade Wi "11 n money lias lie mule?" K'Xt as a pillar of the slate— U furl >-i lKht or lifty. say— V. ' point to him with honors great 'l'll it wait !'•><■ him along the way. Thee tr cry of the hitter fray Is "li >w tnt i money will he pay?" VI. Aid '■ iti ro: win n days pro by 1..;.. v. tei i ipplng through a sieve, A'.ii failing hair and falling eye 1 'i' luini I.i - not long to live. 112». tli -n w ; i : -t Inquisitive \\ it!i "Mow in • h money will lie gi\ V" VII. 1 : 'I; we meet and ni^'i; \ him and gently grii\i, Ar .i: ■ • d (niogy i li I d m ds we wi a vo. At.l infuiv we receive i :i)i.:u .' did he lenre?" - . :•' ! i.i Daily Tribuin . —-p jj By IRVING BACHELLER j 3 AutV. rcf ' Holden." " Carre lof j 1 thi L. :.fd iiles," Etc. i (Copyrl ■i' by IxttUrop Publishing Company CHAI'TKR X CosiixiKi). I!i was ■! gro v whip, thai man David Parish, <vho 1:;..] built a bis mansion at Ogdensbu - ..; and owned so rnueh ol tho north country those clays. Ho was a gentleman when the founders of lite proud l'amiii of to-day were dicker ing in small mer handise. Indeed, one ti ight look i!i vain for such an estab lishment a< his north of Virginia. This side the Atlantic there was no eiid le of horses to ho compared with thai he had splendid Knglish thor oughbreds, the blood of which is now in every great family of American horses. And. my faith! he did love to put litem over the road, lie went tear ing up hill and down at a swift gal lop. and tlio roads were nine too f-mooth in that early day. liefore leav ing home h • hid sent relays ahead lo await !i ; coming every 15 miles of the journey; he always did that if he had ftr t i This time he had posted them clear t > the harbor. The teams VITA quickly shifted; thin we were off with t cn. s af Hie whip and a t ii of the k "... horn. lie held up in th® s vamps. but v.here footing was I'ii,', ti-.-? high-mettled horses had their i i-*!i: ami lii ?1" need of urging. We halted at an inn for a sip oi something and a bile to eat. "Parish," said the general, rising ou stiffened leg-;. "I like your company and 1 like your wine, but your driving is :t punishment." D ri was worn out with la''k of sleep 'viii ret. but lie iiad hung doggedly to hi. saddle. ■ ilow do you feel?" I asked him as we tit v.' up on each side of the coach. "Splii t lite collar," said ho, sober -1;-. A.i h' re. ted tin elbow on his pom mo!. We ;.ot to headutarters at five, ami (urn. d ovt, t' i? prisoners. We had n e: t a warmer welcome than that of th" colonel "I contra' ilate you both," he said as he brought the nun-bottle after we bad hiatii our repor;. "Vou 've got more light in you ii ti a wolverene. Down v.-itk your rr.m and off to your beds, j aiid report li re at reveille. I have a (■ .'i job for you to-morrow." CHAI'TEIt XI. It wi- ind. ! tougher business than we had yet known—a dash into the j ea ii;. country. where my poor head ' was in excellent demantl. D'ri and 1 ' vet"! to cross the lake with a band of i aiders, a troop of 40, under my com mand. We were to rescue some pris <>m : in a lockup on the: other side. The} wore to he shot in the morning, and our mission therefore admitted of no delay. Our horses had been put aboard a btig at midnight, and soon after the noon moss we dropped down tlm lake, going into a deep, wooded cjve south of the Grenadier island. There we lay waiting for nightfall. A big wind was bowling over the woods j at sunset, and the dark came on its wings an hoar ahead of time. The ! night was black and tho lake noisy J when we got under way, bound for a [ flat boat ferry. Our skipper, it turned 1 out, bad little knowledge of (hose wa ters. He had shortened sail, and said be was not afraid of the weather. The wind, out of the southeast, came hard er as it drove us on. Before we knew it.the whole kit and boodle of us were in a devil of a shakeup there in the broad water. D'ri and I were down among the horses and near being trampled under in the roil. We tried to put. about then, but the great gusts of wiuj made u* lowei Bail and drop anchor In a hurry. Roofi the horses were all in a tumble and one on top of the other. We had to jump from back to back to save ourselves. It was no pretty business. 1 can tell you, to pet to the stairway. D'rl was stripped | of a boot-leg. and 1 was cut in the chin ' by a front hoof, going ten feet or so to the upper deck. To the man who was never bit in the chin by a horse's hoof let me say there is no such remedy for a proud spirit. Bullets are much easier to put up with and keep a civil tongue in one's head. That lower deck was a kind of horses' hell. We had to let them alone. They got astraddle of one another's l necks, and were cut from e:ir to fetlock-—those that lived, for some of them. I could see, were being trampled to death. Hew many I never knew, for suddenly we lii! a reef there in the storm and the black night. I knew we had drifted to the north shore, and as the sea began to wash over us it was every man tor himsdf. 'I lie brig went up and down like a sledge-hammer, and at every blow her sides were cracking and cav ing. She keeled over suddenly, and was emptied of horse and man. A big wave flung me far anion-, the flounder ing horses. My fingers caught in a wet mane; 1 clung desperately between ciowding flunk.'Then a big wave went over us. I hung on, coming up n ui le my capture. He swam vigorously, his r.o:,c high, blowing like a trumpet. 1 thought we were in for a time of it, and had very iittle ho|.< for any land- Ing, save in kingdom come. Every min ute I was head under in the wash, and the roaring filled me »v°Mi that mi-hty terror of the windfall. But. on my word, then- is no captain li! e -i good horse in bad water. Suddenly I felt I,lm hit tlii bottom and go forward on his kr.(es. Then he reared up, and be gan to jump in the Fand. A bi wave v M-hid him down again. lie fell on his . de in a shallow, but rose and r;in vrarily iv. i a sot !In ; e'n. in t lie bl. •<- nc . iround II <■ I i nn 1 I .-co nothing. A branch whipped me iu the face, and I ducked. 1 wit" not quick enough; it was like fencing in the dark. A big bough hit me, rauing the withers of my horse, and 1 rolled off headlong in a lot of bush* s. The horse went on, <>> ii of hearing, but i was glad enough to lie still, for 1 had begun to know of my bruises, in a few minutes 1 took off my boots and < inptled them and wruie; my blouse, and i iv back, cursing my ill luck. But that year of 1813 had the kick of ill fortune in it for every mother's son of us there in the north country, I have ever noticed that war goes in waves of success or failure. If we had had Brown or Scott to lead us that year, instead of Wilkinson, I believe it had had a better history. Here was I in ihe enemy's country. God knew where, or how, or when I should come out of it.i thought of D'ri and how it had gone with him in that hell of wa ters. 1 knew it would he hard to drown him. We were so near shore, if he had missed the rocks 1 felt sure he would come out safely. I thought of I.ouison and Louise, and wondered if e\er I should fee them again. Their faces shone upon me there in the win ly darkness, and one as brightly as the other. Afterwhiles 1 drew my wet blouse over me and went to sleep, shiv ering. A familiar sound woke me—that of the reveille. The sun was shining, the sky clear, the wind had gone down. A crew sat calling in the tree above my head. I lay in a strip of timber, thin and I arrow, on the lake shore. Through th< bushes 1 could see the masts of the brig slanting out of water some rods away. Beyond the timber was a lield of corn, climbing a side-liill that sloped off to a level, grassy plain. Beyond the hill-top, reveille was slili sounding. A military camp was near me, and al though I made no move, my mind was up and busy as a eat at a mouse-hole, looking down at my uniform, not, in deed. the most healthful sort of dress for that country. All at once I caught sight of a scarecrow in the corn. 1 laughed at the odd grotesquery of the ii in? —an old frock coat and trousers of olive-green, faded anil torn and fat with straw. A stake driven through its collar into the earth, and crowned with an ancient, tall hat of beaver, gave it u backbone. An idea came to me. I would rob tlie scarecrow and hide my uniform. Iran out and hauled it over and pulled the stuffing out of it. The coat and trousers were made for a stouter man. I drew on the latter, fat tening my figure with straw to fit ; them. That done, I quickly donned the coat. Each sleeve-end fell to my finger-tips, and its girth would have circled a flour barrel and buttoned with roeni to spare. But with my stuffing of straw it came around me as snug at the belt as the coat of a bear. 1 look j alarm as I closed the buttons. For half j a minute I had heard a drum-tap com ing nearer. It was the measured tap! tap! tap-tap-tap! so familiar to me. Now 1 could hear the tread of feet com ing with it back of the hill. How soon they would heave in sight I was unable to reckon, but I dared not run for cover. So I thrust my scabbard deep in the soft, earth, pulled down the big beaver hat over my face, muffled my neck with straw, stuck the stake in front of me to steady myself, and stood stiff as any scarecrow in Canada. Be fore I was done a column, scarlftt- I coated, came out in the level beyond i the hillside. Through a hole in the | beaver I could see them clearly. They came on, rank after rank. They de j ployed, forming an open square, sear let-sided, on the green turf, the gap to ward me. Then came three, walking stiffly in black coats, a squad leading them. The thing 1 had taken for a white visor wa« a blindfold. Their heads were bare. I could see now, they were in shackles, their arms behind them. They were coming to their death —some of my unlucky comrades. God pity them! A spy might as well make his peace with heaven, if he were caught those days, and be done with hope. Suspicion was enough to convict CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 23, 1905. on either side of the water that year. I As my feet sank deeper in the soft earth I felt as if 1 were going down to my grave. The soldiers led them into the gap, standing them close together, backs to me. The squad drew off. The i prisoners stood erect, their faces turn ing up a little, as if they were looking | into the clear, blue sky. I could see I them waver as they stood waiting. The ' sharp-shoot er3 advanced, halting as i they raised their rifles. To my horror, 1 saw the prisoner?, were directly be tween me and them. Great God! was 1 also of that little company about to | die? But 1 dared not move a step. 1 j stood still, watching, trembling. An j officer in a shining helmet was sp'-ak < ing to the riflemen. His helmet seemed | to jump and quiver as he moved away. , Those doomed figures began to reel and ! sway as they waited. The shiny 1 ir | rels lifted a little, their muzzle:-; point ! ing at them and at me. The corn ; seemed to cluck and tremble as it j waited the volley. A great black bill J sho! across the sky in a lons curve, and i began to fall. Then came the word, a ' fit:sh of fire, a cloud of smoke, a rear Jof rifles that made me jump in .>y tracks. I hoard bullets cuffing the c< rn, | 1 felt ihe dirt fly up and scatter <> er me, but was unhurt, a rigid, motion j man of straw. I saw my country). "ii j reel, their lees ;;o limp as their | 112 [% ! S v (\ % I , 1?8 ScwSF- R-v '"vvl*.* • ! i Wmim ; \ lift i \ LS!zrii(ra| .. mm H '""vv . ■■ i n ,\ I . ! 1 i - ft// 'W i j I 4..y--<cyNy j STC'K Ttlli STAKE IN KUOXT OK ME TO ST 15ADV MYSELF AND STOOD ST IKK AS ANY SCARECROW IN I'ANA DA. bodies fall silently forward. The sol dier.-; stood a moment, then a squad went after the dead will) litters. Form inn in fours, they marched away as they bad come, their steps measured by that regular rap! rap! rap-rap-rap! of til- drum. The last rank went out of sight. I moved e little and pulled the stake, and quickly stuck it again, for there were voices near. I stoou waiting as stiff as a poker. Some men were running along the beach; two others were coming through the corn. They passed within a few feet of me on each side. 1 heard ihom talking with much animation. They spoke of the wreck. When they were all by me I faced about, watching them. They went away in the timber, down to a rocky point, where I knew the wreck v. as visible. They were no sooner out of sight than I pulled the stake and saber, and shoved the latter under my bl«? coat. Then 1 lifted the beaver anil looked about me. There was not a soul in sight. From that level plain the field ran far ton thick wood mounting over the hill. I moved cautiously that way, for I was in the path of people who would be coming to see the wreck. I got near the edge of the distant wood, and hearing a noise, halted, and stuck my stake, and drew my hands back in the sleeves, a"d stood like a scarecrow, peering through my hat. Near me, in the woods, I could hear the cracking of sticks and a low voice. Shortly two Irishmen stuck their heads out of a bush. My heart gave a leap in mo. ; for I saw they were members of my ! tioop. "Hello, there!" I called in a loud \ oice. It startled them. They turned their heads to see where the voice came lruni, and stood motionless. 1 pulled I my stake and made for them on the | run. I should have known better, | for the sight of me would have tried ' the legs of the best trooper that ever j sat iu a saddle. As they told me aftar- I ward, it was enough to make a lion I yelp. "Holy Mother!" said one, as ihey broke through the bush, running for their lives. 1 knew not their names, but I called them as loudly as I dared. They went on, never slacking pace, ft was a bad go, for I was burning for news of D'ri and the rest of them. Now I could hear some heavy animal ; bounding in the brush as if their run ning had startled him. I went back to the corn for another stand. Suddenly a horse came up near me, cropping the brush. I saw he was one olf the boat, I lor he had bridle and saddle, a rein hanging in two strings, and was badly cut. My friend! the sight of a horse did warm me to the toes. He got a taste of the tender corn presently, and came toward me as he ute. In a mo ment 1 jumped to the saddle, and he went away leaping like a wild deer. He could not have been more fright ened if I had dropped on him out of the sky. I never saw such energy in flesh and blood before. He took a mighty fright as my hand went to his withers, but the other had a grip on the pommel, and I made the stirrups. I leaned for the strings of the reign, but his neck was long, and I could not reach them. Before I knew it we were tearing over a hill at a merry papa, I can tell you. I was never so put to it for the right thing to do, but I elung on. The big hat shook down ; tipon my collar. In all my life I had never saw a hat. so bi>.'. Through the j break in it I could se*3 a farmhouse. : In a jiffy the horse had cleared a i fence, and was running, with the I'eet j of terror, in a dusty road. I grew an i gry at myself as we tore along—l I knew not why. It was a rage of dis ! comfort, I fancy, for somehow, I never ! felt so bounded and cluttered, so up in ! I lie air and out of place in my body ! The saber was working loose and I hammering my I.nee; the big hat wa« > rubbing my nose, the straw chafing my chin. I had something under rny ! arm that would sway and whack the ! side of the horse every leap lie made. 1 boro upon it hard, as if it were the jewel of my soul. I wondered why, and what it might be. in a moment the big iiole of my hat enmo into con junction with my right eye. On my word, it was the .'.tale! Mow it came i Iheie i have never known, bit, for some reason I hell to it. I looked •! neither to right nor left, but sat erect, <:•)? hand on the hil< of my saber, tt c oilier in the mane of the horsa, 1-now , ing full well I was the most hideous j looking ereatnro in t lie world. If I ; i;ad come to the gale <. 112 heaven 1 bc j lieve St. P(ter would have dropped ! his leys. The straw worked up, and j a great wad of it hung under r,:y cliin 11! o a bushy beard. I would have riv en anything for a sight cf myself, nnd laughi d to thin), ci' it, although fac ing p. deadly peril, as I l:new. Bat I was y<> mg ami had no fur i.i r.:e ■ 1 . Wo - ! 1 ' ' I have his youth on his <1 ..th-br.l' It wrs a I' l'i in tie dark, bit 1 v. a? ready to take my chancer!. Evidently ' was muring a village. Oroupr, of men w• e in t'-o shady thoroughfare: children thronged the doorynrri ■. Tliero wns every sign of a holiday. An v.e Reared hem 1 oaaght my 1- v tin !, r my r;c \ and drew my ham's !:»«•» the I ag i i - ves an' waved th'-ra wildly, whe .;.;ng 15' o an : to hor •. st ling ' fore an inn, broke his baiter and crashed over a feneo. A /can .1 d.:t; r.;n for his life in front of me. yelpipg pa he leau d over a stone wall. Geese 3nd turkeys flew in the air a.-; Ire; el (hem. T'ne p'o -'e hail seemed to take me for r:r,me vil lage youth on a masquerade. Wa flashed into the open country before the sound of cheering had died away. On we went over a long strip of hail noil, between fields, and off in the shade of a thick forest. My horse be gan to tire. I tried to cah.i him by gentle words, but I could give him no confidence in me. He kept on. laboring hard and breathing heavily, as if I were a ton's weight. We came to another cler.ring and fields of corn. A little out. of the woods, and near the road, was a log house white-washed from earth to caves. Ity the gate my horse went down. I tumbled heavily in the road, and turning, caught him by the bits. The big hat had shot off my head: the straw had fallen away. A woman came running out of the open door. She had bare feet, a plump and cheery face. "Tonnerre!" said she. "Qu'est ce que cola?" "My countrywoman." said I, in French, feeling in my under-trouscrs for a bit of silver, and tossing it to her, "I am hungry." "And I have no food to sell," said she, tossing it buck. "You should know I am of France and not of England. Come, you shall have enough, and lor no price but the eating. You have a tired horse. Take him to the stable, and 1 will make you a meal." ITo !!(_• Continued.) TRULY A MODEL SERVANT. YV':IM Soiuouh.'il in Sn'-. i;i^ II;:tl a ftutul j.'.iss Ida M. Tarbell, the writer, w a > talking at her home in New York about servants, relates the Tribune. "1 have he-n reading," che t:aid, "John Fo: s tee's 'Life of Dickens,' and the book iia.s reminded me of the pompous Forstcr's body servant, Hen ry. pie' vv.i des'.-riued Ilenry during his Pst *. i- it to Amc. iea. " i he man, it seems, was devoted t: his master. From one year's end to tiie other ho never needed a reprimand. "It was therefore surprising o;i° night, when For.star was entertaining several writers at dinner, to gee the scrupulous Henry make error after error. He upset a plate of soap, and Korste i* uttered a cry of alarm. He for- I sjot to serve savce for the fish, and his ! master said, 'Vvhy Henry!' Altogether lie made the excellent dinner seem a slovenly and poor repast. "When, at the end, he had set the port and walnuts on the table, Henry leaned over Forster's chair and said in a tremulous voice: " 'Please, sir, can you spare me now? My house has been on fire for the last two hours..'" •IniiniiOMO Humor. Here is a typical Japanese humor ous story: A quack doctor had pre scribed the wrong medicine for the only son of a certain family, with the result that the boy had died. The parents determined to have revenge. So they sued the doctor in a court of law. The affair was eventually patched up, the quack giving the bereaved pa rents his own son in return for the one he had killed. Not long after this the doctor heard a loud knocking at his door one night. Ongoing to the door lie was informed that the wife of one of his neighbors was dangerously ill and that his presence was required at once. Turning to his wife, he said: "This requires consideration, my dear. There is no knowing but that it may end in their taking you from me."— Chicago Daily News, I Balcom k Lloyd, j fp Nil II m i 1 i i I 1 WE have the best stocked general store in the county II and if you are looking for re- |j liable goods at reasonable M prices, we are ready to serve |l you with the best to be found. Our reputation for trust worthy goods and fair dealing \K is too well known to sell any |l but high grade goods. | ! § i| ,\] Our stock of Queensware and jij Chinaware is selected with great care and we have some of the most handsome dishes ever shown in this section, both in imported and domestic makes. We invite you to visit pJ us and look our goods over. ft iU 11 1 | I 1 i 1 jli] m I Balcom & Lloyd. »! ®k J! LKr □ □. □ □ □ ;*±EF o -zuz- □ □ □; -=i_rr o -=_zr | LOOK ELSEWHERE S; f Sr E § :LaBAHS| ♦: S2B Bedroom Suits, solid frOI s3fi Sideboard, quartered (for U oak at 4>ZI oak, . 4>ZO '3 O oak at *.fv.... . 4><&U oak, «OIU M' Gl A large line of Dressers from Chiflloniers of all kinds and W §8 up. prices. ffilfT* We carr Yin stock the I A rge i St " d^r C u? ets I J J line of P samples. 1 S W | {' f jjfl jftr ~ Curtains' that can- U $ A large and elegant line of Tufted and Drop-head ft Couches. Beauties and at bargain prices. £l The finest line of Sewing Machines on the market, £L rf the "Domestic" and "Eldredge". All drop heads and W ft warranted. $ A fine line of Dishes, common grade and China, in oK sets and by the piece. <> As I keep a full line of everything that goes to make * up a good Furniture store, it is useless to enumerate them W v U Please call and see for yourself that I am telling you JCL the tiui.li, and if you don't buy, there is no harm done, as & rf it is no trouble to show goods. | GEO. J. La BAR. |
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers