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HomeMy WebLinkAboutExeter Advocate, 1900-6-21, Page 244 Vrecked twioe," she murmurs, in r•slightly softened mood; but the words wen o low that he does not catch abetar sense. "Slothing that yoa can say can make me nore ashamed than I already am, thee I have been ever since I came, end eech day more than the last." "Then why did you stay? Why did you ?Ant Nr011lniaTily COIlfeSS all, and 54,1r could not." We -voice is so firra and selincontain- ted that, not guessing the truth, she glitsestions him again in haughty sur- erina, tempting him to tell what at tesesent he would keep secret. ' "Why not?' "Because 1 love—I leen you 1" he oriee, fiercely, and clasps her by the ilea& "Better men than I have done worse things for love's sake, Lady She springs back and faces him fear- lessly. "Your love is like your honor, Col - steel Dare -- defective. Is it a manly /fray of proving either to win your way Sento a lady's house by fraud and re - mein by falsehood? If that is love, 11 am thankful. that eight years ago renounced it—forever." "Listen to me this once !" he pleads, nessionately, gazing earnestly into her 4y0S end letting his whole heart hang ' upen her reply. He grasps the table tightly with one hand to support himself, and with the ether pushes back the hair that in leaning- forward has fallen over his 161',CS4 • "These is nothing left to be said," erne renewers, moving, away. "Once for elk I tell you, Colonel Dare, I doubt ;sour honor and decline your love." Me words in their icy coldness kill ?AS hope, and, without an effort to de- an/ea her, he lets her go. Then, di - erectly he is alone, he sinks back in his eierar, utterly despairing. It. is all over; the game Is played out, Inset there is nothing left for him but net ge. His small portmanteau is soon nearSsed, and yet for a moment he ling- ers still, looking over every book to esee if he can find one with her name Sem in. 1St 'last his search is rewarded. It is only a small lesson book of Rollo's, but tl has once belonged to Rollo's mother. • it, is written only one word—"Jen- And then, lest she should add the erime of theft to those others of svhich she has accused him, he loosens the ensteh from his chain and leaves it 'ausre with a written slie of paper: "For Rollo, with Gervase Dares .,Tteve." Era.ctically, It is of more than equal Tanen, nat in reality he knows the lit- tle shabby dog's eared book is to him ntozth a dozen watches, however anti- quated and however quaint. All his life he ehall prize it as a memento of tnetpurest, proudest woman he has ever Senowtra since his motherdied; and when aeath comes to him, too, he will only aeie. that it may be buried with him. fres, it is all over I He never. for a ersmeat doubts that she has meant all -sae-sal& and perhaps he loves her bet- ' ter for her indignation and horror at •Seis falsehood. She would have been a `liltIa less perfect had she been able Sap condone his faults at once; he is almost content to have her shine far • IStstenre him, like a star, in cold, unlov- • hag splendor, rather than by a human • lanailly lose one iota of the purity of 'I2DrAr.. glory. In his present mood, he takes, a, savage delight in abasing him- -waif' and exalting her. ad any one told him that her words wean'. those of an angry woman, and evivead. be repented of almost as soon .as lettered, he would have treated the &See as an accusation, and repelled it 3;annne attorn. To him she appears as a efeest feke outraged goddess, an offended ,eneen. ancl for all the world he would not have her otherwise. By and by, peenvps, he may admit that mercy is netemanly quality, which it had been Inseam -if she had not lacked, but now An only exults in her faultlessness. Once raore he looks round the room, as- styes resting regretfully on the await on which she sat and the foot- eteel where last her delicately slipper- eieS feet were placed. All around is ;Ala, neagrant with her presence, and ,falie1ene3 Dare seas that it is an even esnaelie.c wrench than he thought 'to Saanish himself from her vicinity. See gives a last look, and then throws task: window wide open and steps out Fiette the darkness. The rain is falling Ilever2y still, and the wind is high, and it Ste ant till early morning that, weary ened` seat through he reaches Castle &nen CHAPTER. IX. addst. 1aeiga is up early the next moznizig, looking very pale and with ,iteek ehadows under her eyes, which 'rkta of the vigil she has kept. She has Sieeie in the nursery several time-, dur- Sine the night, and found the child arelesp•each time ; but now he is awake, cel evidently refreshed. by rest. There • nc fever, and he is only a little ex- th.tedr. by the stirring event of the ev- Acing before. "saffnere is Mr. Dare ?" is hie first )erneark.... • "'Yoe 'will see him soon, my few, is Sinn"Ls the soothing reply,; but even elle the words are spoken the speaker %ears that it must be for the last time ---alkate after what has passed, the tutor eveerst not stay. "'Mother, I have not thanked him yet sant saving me 1" reedy Leigh starts, She, too, has been eeprehensibly negligent; not the slight - eat acknowiedginent has she given to alma for risking his life to rescue that sum 1.wiee snore, and by that time, if sea:fell is dearer to her than her own.; I had the rinlat stuff in me, should have Vagfe it be possible that she has been carved out my fortune for myself, and renungrateful, so unwomanly, as never, should need his help no raore." " Well?" • The man raises his head proudly. " have done so; my foot is on the first rung of the ladder, and 1 shall not fail now, having once succeeded. I came to tell him this and. to thank him, Silt for his opportune bounty I should nave remained all my life streggling Y,11, , Candling up her dross, she rises from euns she has hellaxl upon Was by her seat and runs down stairs. She r.'.;• pleading humbly for forgiveness and perienees a little fright when she fime; avowing her mistake, Whoever he is the door of the schoolroom wide open, and Avlieever he is, she trusts him en - hut at first reassures herself with tne tirely, and has all faith in his nobility Wee, that perhaps he is not up Yet, of miud, whether his lineage be high or, on the other hand, he may be Oat or not, and if he asked her again to for - of doors , She advances timidly into the room, and to her fancy it wears a strangely - deserted appearance. Then she uotioes that hie bedroom door is open, too, and earning mere forward. still, she can see that the bed has not beenl slept in and his portmanteau is gone. That he has left is plain, but there is the hope that he may return' to say get all end be his wife, she would not again say nay. But a -worn.an is so powerless, she muses. It may be that she will never see him again --never have the chance for which she longs. Indeed, u,nless he loves her so well that in spite of all she has said, he is constrained to see her again, how can they ever hope to meet? 1 -ler own life is so isolated, and farewell. If he loved her as he said where he is she does not know. he did he could not leave her thus ; Then a thought comes into Lady but surely what she said was sufficient Leigh's head which she resolves to put to kill a passion of even a longer and bite exeeution. She will live in this stronger growth than this! Oh! how seclusion no longer She will go out she despises herself when she remenn into the world and into society, and if bars what she said to him! How she she canaot Sind him; at least it will wishes she heel bitten out her tongue help her to forget. The idea gives a rather than allowed it to utter such new incentive to life, and her step is heartiess, meaningless words! For now, as, buoyant as it was years ago, betore with a sudden revulsion of feeling, she trouble came, whea she returne to decides that he has not deserved the the house. least of them. He is all that is good, Tabitha is dusting the ornaments in manly ad brave ; how could she re- her room when she goes in, and makes ward him so ill for the patience he has a movement to go, but Lady Leigh shown her child? stops her. Since his advent Rpllo has become "Finish what you are doing.," she so much stronger, and yet more lobed- says graciously; "I ane only going to Lent and gentle in his manners; the write an advertiserneet." dreary old house, too, has been per- "Oh, my lady 1 not again !" says ceplably brightened., and even Tabitha the woman in dismay, for she knows a has softened toward the new inmate. little and has guessed more of the his - Now the old routine will recommence, tory of the last. and there will be no break in it; she "Not for a tutor, Tabiebe ; I am go - realizes at once how rauch they will ing to have a couple of footmen and a raiss him. butler." Then she catches sight of the "I am sorry if I haven't given your watch. with the penciled words beside ladyship satisfaction„" is the stiff re - it, and begins to weep—not stormily, joinder.. but very, very sadly, as one who has Lady Leigh laughs, and places her lost a dear friend. tiny hands on the svoraan's shoulders, And Rollo—how is she to break it meeting her defiant gaze with a glance to him? Tabitha, entering, disturbs her of deprec,ation. reverie. She looks utterly aghast at "Don't be stupid, Tabitha; the fact seeing her mistress in tears. is, I—I am. going into society again " What is it, my lady—has anything and—" happened?" she asks, in great con- "And yoU must keep up your posi- cern. S tion, of coarse," answers the woman, "Mr. Dare has gone," answers Lady with quickly -aroused pride." It would Leigh, with a stifled sob, and to her never do to be behind any of the lother surprise Tabitha gives a decided grin gentlefolks—you, the flower of them of satisfaction. all. I'll never stand in your light, my "I knew how it would be; I knew lady; but if you will just let me wait he'd never like us all crowding round on you when no one is there--" and thanking him, and he such a quiet It is Lady Leighs turn to interrupt, man, too! I thought as how he'd keep which she does with a reproachful out of the way for a.while." smile. "It is not that, Tabitha; he's gone "Tabitha, do you. think I could part altogether. with youf The man -servants can wait " Not he, my lady; and, begging your on my guests; but you—you shall al - pardon for contra,dicting you, he is too -ways be my own maid and truest fond of the young lord to go away friend. What should I do without you like that without a word." after all these years ?" • "You don't know all," says Lady "I'm main. glad younte going out Leig.h, meekly; "you don't know that again," she says, presently, when the I never thanked him for saving Rollo, sobs have subsided; "it will do you and last night I was very rude and good, although I know you are only said things he could never forgive. Af- doing it for his little lordship's sake." ter that he could not stay." Lady Leigh' looks uncorafortable, and. "Never thanked him r —and Tabitha turning away, busies herself at the looks the rebuke she dare not utter. writing table tearing up sheets of pap - The silence that ensues is so condom.- er and selecting a pen •with greatest natory that Lady Leigh, with all her care. haughtiness, is abashed. She goes back She is at a loss how to reply. • It to Rollo and tells him the bad news hurts her to take the credit for an act and his reproachful comment upon it of self-sacrifice when it is so purely a. crushes her altogether. matter of self -consideration, and yet "Mother, how come. you lea him go?" how can she, even to Tabitha, confess After this she has no thought harsh the motive that is calling her into the enough for ber conduct and no praise world again? , svarm enough for Colonel Dare. To her Womanliness forbids her to tell all son she often speaks of him, and always her thoughts; honesty prorapts her to tenderly and. no other tutor comes to disown a virtue that in this case she Leigh Park She will not risk another does not possess. advertisement, and besides who would "There are many reasons why it will be worthy to take his place? be best," she answers evasively. . Two or three months pass. It was the spring when Colonel Dare first came, now it is late autumn, and; he is CHAPTER X. almost forgotten save by one. That one is wandering listlessly through the out Leigh is not 'long in carrying grounds of her estate when she meets ut her resolve. Her first step is se- a tall, elderly man, evidently in search curing men sex-vants, and a carriage accost him. and horses, her next calling on the of some one. Curiosity prompts her to county magnates. " Are you looking for. any one ?" she Shehas been so long out of the world asks graciously. . that she has forgotten some of its eti- " quette, and her first Visit is to Mrs. Yes, I wanted to see his lordship, Crosse -Brereton, and not, as it should ave if not inconvenient to him," he says, hire, the wife of the 'lord lieutenant v the Duchess of Down - taking off his hat and bowing low. hsbeen, t° "My son is at his lessons, and, ex- f the county. cuse nae, but I cannot think why you ' should wish to see him," is they bewil- But this mistake is, after all, a sue- ' It is his turn to look puzzled now. haughty woman who accepts all civil - cess. Her grace of Downshire is a ities dered reply. f ill 1'• he asks, in sudden fear. 1 as her right, and tlainks anything "I mean. his lordship himself. Is he that is odd must necessarily be dis- "My husband. is dead," says Lady graceful. Had Lady Leigh taken her Leigh, and then, seeing the surprise by surprise it is possible she might and sorrow written on his face, she have closed the portals of county so - adds, quickly, "he has been dead some , ciety forever against her by the fat - years.' " And the young Lord Leigh?,, se message, "Not at home," for where she led the conservative county was "Is not yet eight years old. I scarce - always ready to follow. with ly think you can have business - as it is, Mrs. Crosse -Brereton is so him.' . delighted at being the first, to see The man raises his hat with a blank the beautiful recluse after her long re - stare. . • ' tirement tint she cannot welcome her I beg your pardon; I must have enough, and immediately organizes a made some mistake—but I met him in dinner party in her .honor. the, para." Mr. Crosse -Brereton himself willing- " You mean the tutor that was here?' ly seconds his wife, and gives such a, The man laughs in some anmeenaent. glotving account of Lady Leigh to the "There are not many tutors, my club, that the old duke, who happened. lady, who can afford to give away a to be there, in reporting it again, bids hundred rend twenty pounds a year." his haughty helpmate use her best en - A hundred and twenty pounds a yearl deavors to make Lady Leigh most wel- That was the very sum she had given come when she comes, as the daugh- as salary. Could it be that, disdain- ter of one of his oldest friends, who ing, to- take meney teem her hands, had died serving Under him in the he had given it to this man? Crimea in other days, when he was a " Tell tee. all about [2," she says, spendthrift younger sone ' quickly. And so Lady Leigh is launched into He complies at onee, keeping back society, and the passport once gained nothing of their interview, only inter- her beauty and grace soon carry all spersing his information with praises before her. Her romantic story is en of his benefactor, praises whiclado not additional charm, and her reputatien in the least degree bore his hearer, as a determined man hater brings but find a fervent echo in her heart. more suitors in her train, out a pique "And. you have never seen him aril curiosity than her beauty alone since ?" she asks at the conclusion, might otherwise have gained. But she longing more than she will admit even is indifferent to all, and. makes no to herself for, news of his well being secret of her wish to remain unvvedeled. and whereabeeta. One day, Mr. Meade, who is one of " Never. Two months ago I hada let- the foremost and most fervent of her ter from him inclosing sixty pounds, adorers, cbristens her "Shy Widow," six months' donation in advance. He vvhen she has been more than usually said he should forw-ard ene the same tantalizing and coy. The name is iso appropriate that it s generally adopt- ed, and some one telliag her of it one day is surprrned a,t the vivid flush that dyes her face. • In a moment has come before her naincl's eye the evening when Rollo and she haft been disturbed in their games, her of choosing the tutor for her hus- when her son had laughingly accuse,d band. The jest had come so true, 'If ever she ;should inarry—end even mew she would pause before complying — it coiled only be to him that she sveuld eencles up her life and entrust Iher happiness. Of all this alis says nothing, a.nd if any one, notiees the wistful glance round that she gives on firat entering a room, it is the Honorable, Graver Meade. It comes into his Wind one af- ternoon to test her.' It is at a garden party, and Rollo is rushing about with his lateet n.ov- elty, a butterfly net. The bo3r has Found that gifts come fe,st, when one "I have never thanked hire myself lover whom. she had so scorned, and has a pretty, eligible, and marriage-, l',G14. Rollo," she says humbly. '' I must whom she now yearns to see again that able niotheri Saa and find him noir.," , i I, 1 e , ; , , she may, recomponf3e him for all the in- , , To koi Centialted.; , eSSer even a word of thanks?" • What must he have thought of her neeelennees? Surely he must have in- werdly termed her a monster, callous 'Sse her son's danger, and too heartness ea, care about his safety. Instead of Sheellag him with abuse, as she had done, she ought to have fallen itt his !Seat and almost worshiped him as her. for neer() bread with no hope on ambi- tion for the future—and now I cannot find him. You do not know where he is ?" She .hakes her head. "Heaven bless him, wherever he is!" is the earnest ejaculation, "Amen," says Lady Leigh, solemn- ly, then, conscioue that She has betray- ed hereelf to a' petfect stranger, she ex- Diains, quietly, 'You know he sated my hoy's life." • Long a,fter the Man has gone she 'lingers there, thinking of the would-be (^3}45703 preserver. Awl now it is she who will have to eleeed fax pardon and perhapS he will tae. as hard and as unforgiving as she neee before. Her Cheeks are dyed crim- nen; as she remembers all the cruel, Steolent things she said, and how meek - bore them, never reminding her daftinsehligation she was under to him. must go to him at once and apeao- nine, aad if he goes—as she supposes le ;Must—well, at least there Will be peewee between them. FASTENING STARTERS. A Ready wad Satimfactory Way of Putting Them Into SectionN. The illustration shows a method, of putting starters into sections, which I have found a yery good orie, says a \Yd.( er in Country Gentleman. There are several machines on the market for this work, but some of them are very unsatisfactory. In hot wreath- _ens' e'sfe I 41- e— Id 85 Shed ene. PUTTING STARTERS IN SECTION BOXES. er the starters are at to tumble down when the bees cluster on them, but with this process heated wax is used and is absorbed by the wood, and the starters stay in place during the hot- test days in summer. In order to get the bees to build their combs nice and straight in the sections the starters must be put In the middle of the sec- tions. - For this purpose we use a board with four blocks nailed on it seven -eighths of an inch thick by 3% inches square. This size is for the standard section, which holds just one pound of honey. We then pick up four sections at '0115 time and place them over the four blocks, the sections being on • their edges, lay in the one inch starters, or full sheets, just as preferred. In the picture full sheets are being used. The blocks bring the starters just midway in the sections. We then dip our piece of tin into the heated wax and 'touch the starter and' section at the uniting point, holding the starter in place with the left hand, withdrawing the piece of tin • instantly, as it only requires a touch, and the work is doue. If full sheets are, used, we dip twice, touching the top and one side, leaving one side end the bottom loose for expansion. The size of the piece of tin is 8% by 5 inches, with a perfectly straight -edge. The receptacle to hold the heated wax is a small sardine box 2eS, by 4 inches, kept about one-third filled with wax and placed over a small hand lamp with a tin cylinder for a globe, with BOARD WITFI RAISED BLOCKS. the top snipped in a little and then beet out so as to form a crown, which will give vent to the burning lamp when the pan of wax is placed on top. All these utensils are inexpensive and can be picked up aroluid any home. A lit- tle experience will soon indicate the right temperature to keep the wax for expeditious working. Thinning Irruit. As to methods of thinning fruit few absolute statements can be made, so much depends on the conditions under which thinning is to be done. There are certain things, however, which must he considered in any case. Thin- nbag should be delayed until there is no further danger of premature dropping of fruit from lack, of pollination, the effect of frosts or other accidental causes. It should be done, however, before the fruit becomes so large as to tax the tree. The usual recommenda- tions are to thin plums when about half grown and before the pits laarclen, peaches when the size et small hickory uuts or when half an inch in diameter, apples when the size of hickory nuts to 1eS inches in diameter. The amount of trait removed will depend largely on the previous pruning and on the age, size and variety, of the tree. The fruits should be left far enough apart so as not to touch each other, and it is often recommended to leave them from four to six inches apart. Fruit should be picked by hand, the wormy, diseased and otherwise inferior fruits being renioved. Mechanical de- vices for thinning are not recommend- ed, since they do not discriminate be- tween good and bad fruits, do not leave fruits well distributed and often break off or injure the fruit spurs. cantaloupes. • Cantalotipes are preferably planted in drills about seven 'feet ;inert. A good dose of stelae manure end a seta- elence of ethe above fertilizer to give each plant about a hillf pound should be appliecl in the drills and well mixed With the doll. A low ridge sufficient or cleeinage purposes should then be 40:teed and the 'plants finally thinned to one vino for every two or three feet. —Farm and Ranch. TOO Ihnich Lanl. ' woeld warn any and, all farmer(' against tiwing to cultivate too naueS land. I have reached the canclusion that this is one of the surest ways 'tea Wake a failure, -2f, 13. Yerhrough. wreeeennrtereweeeeeeseee-reeeeeerrrer-eeeseewe--eseseeesnr-ee-•e-sreeee-eeeee. tee RUNNING A HILL FARM. Notions of "an Odd Denitio?' Who* however, Silteeeth4. An' acquaintance of mine who owns a billy i'ann manages It in such a way that he gets about as large an ipconse from it as most men do from leVel farms of equal size, writes F. Grundy to ,11sfirm and Fireside. A small creek runs acrossnhe farm, the valley along which it flows being deep and its sides very. steep. 'Elie valley, including the greater part of the gullies leading into it, is fenced in aud used as a. Pasture for cows and sheep, There is a flue sod over the whole and be keeps only sufficient stock in the pasture to keep the grass reasonably short. If any spot is grazed too short or the grass LS seeded with a mixture of recite's, blue killed out, it is heavily nmstured and grass and wane clover. The aranure prevents the stock from grazing it too close until a firm sod is established. In the deep gullies, where usually we see only a tangle of brush, crab ap- ples, wild grape vines find weeds, lie has planted several varieties of na- tive and Japan plums and Sloore's parlY, Concord and Niagara grape • vines. He says these deep ,gullies are fit ouly for brush and vines, and he sees no reason why they ehould con- sist of wild crabs, wild grapes ancl oth- er trash when good fruit will answer the purpose just as well. Inside the pasture he has planted the lower part of these gullies with frsh and catalpa trees, wyle the sides of the little creek' are if -Zed with these and maple trees. In a few years he will have all the fenceposts and fire- wood he needs. The upper level or nearly level land he farms, growing corn chiefly, which is fed to his stock during tbe winter months. In speaking of his methods and prac- tices be said to me: "I'm a sort of theo- retical fellow ancl have been laugbed at a great deal by some of my neigh- bors on account of my notions about planting trees arid managing the hill- sides and gullies on my farm, but I've paid no attention to their fun, though I must confess tbat I.did feel a little silly when I cleared out tbat gully near the house and planted it to phials. Si- berian crabs and grapevines; also when planted those trees along either sido of the creek. 1 see now that it svas the riglit thing to do, and I am getting lots of fruit from those gullies. while 1 em now getting enough posts from my timber plantings to keep my pasture fences up. I may be 'an odd genius,' as some call me, but I am nsaking a good living and something more off this 's'agged 80,' and I'm not working my- self to death either." If any person Imagines or a moment that the methods of this 'odd genius" are merely "moonshine," all he needs to do is to take a look at the farms up and down the creek. The hillsides on these are seamed with deep gullies and utterly bare of vegetation, while the ravines are wild tangles of worthless briers, vines and weeds. The owners are trying to scratch a living from the upland and wishing someboay would come along and buy them out. They do not seem to care to follow the exam- ple of their little neighbor. Why? Be- cause he's merely an "odd genius!" A Wice Pact About Farming. There is one thing to which I wish to call attention, says Waldo F. Brown in Home and Farm, and that is the' fact that prosperity on the farm gives a chance to take things easy in the de- cline.of life better than most other call- ings. Once out of debt •and with the farm in good condition the fanner can hire the hard work done and take the lig,hter svork on himself, looking after the poultry and the garden, and let younger and stronger hands take the lead, while in many other callings the man must work in the harness every day or give up entirely. 71.1e success- ful lawyer, doctor, preacher or manu- facturer lies built his success by per- sonal qualities and cannot delegate the care to others, but the fawner can di- rect the work of his farm and clo the head work while others furnish the muscle. Literature of F'oisonous weeds. The great injury done to stock, espe- cially in those regions where loco weeds and larkspur abound, has led a number of stations to devote considera- ble study to poisonous plants. Publica- tions ou the subject have been issued by the experiment stations of Colora- do, Iowa, Kansas, Montana, New Jer- sey, New Mexico, North Carolina, Ore- gon, South Dakota and other states. Agricultural nrevitiee. A little boom for the blueberry seems to be on just now. Horticulturists who ought to know say that there is usual- ly a good demand, at very good prices Cor the ordinary blueberry and that the high bush blueberry will soon be under more general cultivation. , Un- der good cultureit may be expected to improve in size, quality a.nd quanti- ty of fruit. The introduction of the blueberry industry as a source of profit i•epresents one of the latest notions in fruit growing circles.. The annual meeting of tbe eastern New York Horticultural society is to be held in February at the rooms of the American institute in New York city. Professor Halsted, aftee several yoat's of experiment with chib soot of eabbe,ge at the New Sersey station, advises that from • 75 to 150 bueliels per acre of 'air slaked lime be applied broadcasitin the autumn. This slmuld lie on the' surface over winter and be worked thoroughly into the soil in 'the gpriSig before planting. An Inerettee in the pride of farm im- plements 15 sure to eonie, according to The Rural New Yorker, which leas been itt correspondence with the lead- ing manufacturers of tarna iniplemenie with a view to learning how the high prices for iron and steel will affeet the I niplern e nt trade. SAVAGE DANCES CEASE Tribes of ,Indians 'Who Have Submit, ted to L'irhisrition., Among the many other sweeping re- forms now being instituted among the Indians of the southwest is the abolisn- ment ef their dences end Medicine men. More perticiaarly is the interior. 'department Anxious to get the Inaiane to quit their War, scalp and slinilar dances. Special ageets and mission- aries employed by the government have been working among the "prairie 'Liaises" of Oklahoma, Indian Territory end Kansas for five years and until recently have been in the midst of red- skins constantly. Recently, following orders from the Indian department, these missionaries end agents abandoned their, chilies, the RIOWA DANCER. reformation of the Indians being com- plete for the time being at least, says W. R. Draper in the St. Louis Repub- lic. Perhaps they may fall back into 01C1 CUStOMS, but it is hardly tlsought they will after such inducements as have been offered them to remain good Indians. s • The "great white father" is • very anxious to civilize the Indians in every sense of the word, anti he believes so long as they dance this will not be ac- complished. Among the tribes which have promised to dance no more are tbe Cheyennes, Arapahoes, Apaches, Ka owes, Comanches and Ponces. All of these Indians have been noted for their wild habits, scalping parties and horri- ble massacres. The Comanches, especially the squaws, were the most noted fiends for blood the Indian world ever knew. A. drop of blood would set one of them crazy, and he would not stop until be had slain a white man. There are hun- dreds Of graves over Oklahoma filled with victims of Comanches' scalping knives. These Indians until lately held their annual "father's dance," which the whole tribe—men, women and chil- dren --attended and took part' in. Quanah Parker, the famous Indian chief, led the Comanches in their dances always. The father's dance, or dance with joined hands, has been a very tame affair during the last few years, but in early days it was the cus- tom to sacrifice a white man at the stake some thne in the course of the dance week. The dance generally lasted six days. Great feasting and war, parties were planned. In recent years at these dances the Indians talked over old times and generally denounced the whites. They refused to allow any white persons to participate until Ma- jor Woodson, an old army officer, nis- ited thorn. He made a speech and ,told them they should take their allotments and rent out their farms to white men if they did not want to work them- selves. Quanah Parker, who considers himself a "heap big Injun," with lots of influence, was persuaded by Major Woodson to forsake the dance.,Last fall he did so, and since then mariCo.gi manches have taken up their farm sse work and refused to notice the dance. Within the last two months they have Quit altogether. The Kiowas now number a little over 300. They live in Oklahoma on the same reservation with the, Comanches and Apaches. This reservation is short- ly to be thrown open to settlement, and the whites who settle upon the free land left after the Indians have taken allotments need not have any fear of scalping parties arising from dances. These tribes bave all agr.eed to quit dancing too. The Kiowas were orig- inally from Montana, while the Apa- ches came from AriZ0119. • Aright to Ile Dead, Tommy Weary had bad pneumonia, so }sad been for some time in hospital, where they had treated him so well that he was much averse to the pros- pect of being discharged as "cured." One clay the doctor in charge Was taking bis temperature, and while Weary had the thermometer in his moutb the doctor atoned .on and bap- pened to turn back. Weary saw bis chance. He walled the thermometer out of his mouth and popped it into a chi) of tea, replacing it at the first sign of the medico turning. 'Wben that Westin' examined the thermometer, he looked first fit Weary, then back to the thermometer and gasped: "Well, niy man, you're not dead, but Ron ot.trht to be!"