Evening Star Newspaper, July 13, 1889, Page 10

10 THE EVENING STAR: WASHINGTON, D.C; SATURD r: AY, Written for Tur Evesrxa Stat CAMP LIFE MADE COMFORTABLE. What Provisions, Cooking Utensils, Etc., Will be Necessary. SOW To BUILD A FIRE THAT WILL WARM THE IN- TERIOR OF THE TENT—THE BEST METHOD OF COOKING GAME AND FISH—OTHER VALUABLE SUGGESTIONS FOR A LIFE IN THE WOODS. (Copyrichted 1889.) The number of persons who leave the cities for a few weeks during the summer to enjoy the novel and healthful delight of “camping out” increases annually and would doubtless be yet larger but for the baleful ignorance gener- ally prevalent concerning its modus operandi. Those who have never tried it are very liable to have exaggerated ideas of its cost and diffi- culties. To commence with, the outfit actually necessary is small and simple. The Proper provisioning of a camp is by no means costly or difficult, and camp cooking is easy and by no means an inconsiderable part of the enjoyment and fun of free forest life. ‘TENTS AND CONTENTS. Primarily you want a tent, and, as that is fomething to last for many years if properly taken care of. you may as well get a good one, a “wall” tent with a “fly.” A couple of mgn can get along quite well with a “shelter,” but the superior size and convenience of the “wall justities the coraparatively small additional out- ¥ upon it. ‘Aad do not buy one of the flimsy muslin ones that are very imperfect shelters while they last and soon wear out, bug a good “duck” tent with a “fly” of lighter body. Next, your cooking apparatus is a most important essential. By no means permit yourself to be beguiled into taking along an oil stove. It is a thing that inevitably leaks, no mat- ter what the dealer may say to the con- trary, and by some infernal fatality— explicable only by the little understood law of “the innate cussedness of inanimate things”— always dribbles its evil-smelling contents on your blankets, or, worse yet, on your provi-| sions. Take along with you a couple of alcoho lamps, of that kind that afford good big flames. They do not cost much and may come in very handy for small cooking or making coffee in the tent during exceptionally bad weather, or for quickly and conveniently getting up’ an early breakfast. But, remember, they are only for emergencies. Asa rule you must do your cooking by an open fire of wood coals. And, by the way, do not carry your alcohol in bottles or a demijohn, but in tight tin cans. Eschew glass as far as possible in your camping outfit. COOKING UTENSILS. You want a good-sized iron pot for making stews and soups it Dutch oven;” two sheet iron mess pans, one of them with three long, low “ears” riveted on its edge; two frying pans, or three, of different sizes, so that they will Rest together; two wire abig gal- vanized iron pot and two tin pails; one coffee- pot and one teapot of heavy tin or “granite” Have iron “bails” on the two big pots and riveted handles and spouts on the coffee and teapots, but no handles to stick out and be in the way on any of the other utensils, Use a pair of blacksmith’s pliers to handle them with about the fire. Get a couple of stout iron spoons with handles cut off to 3or4 inches long and cylinder sockets soldered to them, so that youcan put stick handles to them when wanted of any length you desire. One stout meat forkand twokeen butcher knives, one large, the other small, will be all you will need. For tableware there is noth- ing better than bright, new.clean tin plates, cups and spoons, and nothing is less ex- msive. Plain wooden-handled kniv and | forks, of course. You want pepper and salt holders with double tops, the under ones per- forated, and for them tin is as good as any- thing. ‘Cayenne pepper you had better keep ina strong bottle well ‘corked. If you run Jour eye back over that list of utensils and tableware, you will observe that if yon use reasonable intelligence in selecting ‘suitable sizes, the whole lot when packed will be nested together in the two big iron pots and the Dutch oven—possibly excepting the coffee pot. which is always likely to be a serviceable and neces- sary nuisance. Jam in somewhere a couple of | Pieces of iron curved like the letter S, with the curves about 4 inches wide on one end and Sinches on the other, length about a foot. They will be needed to haug the pot over the open fire. See that some of your tin plates are large enough to serve as covers to the frying pane. A strong, cheap chafing dish is so serv- © as almost to be essential, All this outfit is planned for persons who are going into a camp of comparative permanency— say for from a week to & month—on land, and is not imtended to serve as a guide for the touch- and-go requirements ef the canoeist. His out- fit must be governed by the limited space at command in his little boat and will necessarily be much simpler and more carefully compacted. But from this maximum he may readily figure down to his minimum. One who knows how to do it may travel comfortably, so far as cooking for himself goes, with a deep frying pan and a quart cup. ESSENTIAL SUPPLIES. ‘The selection of provisions to be taken along depends so largely upon the supplies probably obtainable subsequently and the tastes of the Persons concerned that it is difficult, if not ac- tually imy ‘ible, to give any specific instruc- tions. If you are going where there is a rea- sonable certainty of getting an abundant supply of game or fish, you will, of course, take a quantity of meat with you than you would require if that were problematic or im- Probable. One thing you will have to bear in tind is that the appetites to be provided for are pretty sure to be very good. The essential oe are flour, corn meal, pilot bread, salt pork, coffee, tea, sugar, salt, epper, otatoes and onions. The flour should’ be’ the “pre- pared” kind, which is handy for making bis- euit, requires no monkeying with Uncertainties and is easily under- The corn meal ought to be fresh, but if it is not should be either scalded or slightly roasted—according to what is to be done with it—before use. Pilot bread must not be neglected. It does not mould, is nice, nutritious, always ready andcan be made the is of several very good and easily-prepared dishes. Be careful in selecting your salt pork to get that which is dry, firm and sweet, You want your coffee ground and packed tightly nto air-tight, screw-top, tin cans, not more a pound in each can. As for the potatoes and onions you will probably be able to get them at your last point of departure for the woods, and had better not load yourself up with them until you have to. If you can get some apples and lemons at the same time they also will come in good. The salt pork is not meant places where lard comes into service in camp Sookery pure olive oil would be infizitely wicer, cleaner and more heaithful. And it is not so very expensive, You can procure it in tight tin cans for about €2.50 per gallon, and that the best. Using it as all fate should be used in frying, abundantly and only when it is smoking hot, very little of it will be by the food cooked in it, and that left in the pan may be utilized over ing taken to keep sep- By along a Fe f LF ii £E, ‘il ‘ential or not. Some persons take lons for use in ease of snake bite. few gal- HOW TO HANG THE KETTLE. A primary requisite when you get into camp will bea fire upon which to cook your food. One person should get to work at building it immediately, while the others are raising the tent, ditching around it, cutting spruce or hem- lock branches for the bed, erecting a table and cleaning out the spring. | Here is the best way to make a fire for camp cooking: Have two solid green logs 6 feet long and 12 or 14 inches in diameter, one side of each flattened so as to support utensils. Lay these logs together at one end and about a foot apart at the other, making a narrow >, with the flattened sides uppermost and the open end of the V to wind- ward. Between these logs start your fire with per, splinters of dry wood and dry twigs, and, y the way, have a plentiful supply of matches, not the fancy “parlor” variety, the heads of which become soft in damp weather, but stout old-fashioned “brimstone” ones, and keep them in a strong glass jar or titi can with @ water-tight screw cap. Only feed your fire as fastas the fuel is consumed brightly, and increase gradually the size of the sticks you put on it, using dry nafd wood if obtainable, and in a little while you will have a pile of clear, glowing coals. Not until then will your fire be fit for cooking over. While it is reach- ing this point, you may profitably busy your- self with planting firmly in the ground, say 8 or 9 feet apart, in astraight line with the lon- gitudinal center of your V, a couple of strong posts, forked at ths ‘top, supporting a straight pole between them at such a height that, when your S-shaped iron hooks are placed upon it, the pots[hung on them will be almost down to the logs. hen your fire is good, each dish cooked over thecoals may, when done, beset on one of the logs to keep warm until ail are completed. The apex of the V is a good safe place to keep the coffee pot hot. En passant—don't culti- vate the common but absurd notion that you want an egg to‘‘clear” your coffee. Cold water will do quite as well. When your coffee has come to a boil dash half a cup of cold water on the surface and all the “grounds” will be at once precipitated to the bottom. In the army, where we were bound to get out of the coffee all the strength there was in it, we used to let it boil up three times, taking it off the fire # moment at the firstand again at the second and using the cold water at the third, and our coffee was strong and clear as sherry. OTHER FIRES. You will want two other kinds of fires. The one just described is for cooking things put over it. But it is not well adapted for roasting or cooking hoe-cakes, For that special service, drive two stout stakes in the ground four feet apart and two or three feet high; pile against these two or three green logs five feet long and high enough to reach the top of the stakes, like a wall; and agamst these, on the windward side, build your fire. In front of it set your bread or hoe-cake on edge against a flat stone, or pan; or, if you want to roast, hang the joint, bird or beast, by a bit of wire from a pole sup- ported on croiched sticks, with a dripping pan under it. Never try roasting over a fire, but always in front of it, unless you are fond of scorched, smoky, _ burnt- grease-scented meat. Your third kind of fire is for cooking game—scaled, furred, or feathered—“hunter fashion,” for baking loaves of bread and baking beans. Dig in the dry ground a hole twelve inches deep and wide enough toallow three or four inches space all around your largest mess pans. In and ever | this hole build a good fire and keep it up until ‘the ground all about is thoronghly heated and the hole is nearly filled with coals. Then, with a hoe, if you have one, scoop out most df the coals. Now your fire is ready for cooking, but from this point your proceedings must vary according to what you propose to cook. COOKING FISH AND BIRDS. Let us suppose that it isa fish or abird. If you are in the neighborhood of a trout stream you will be likely to find in its bottom, somewhere near, a bed of creamy or blue clay. Dig this out with your hunting-knife and work it with water into @ stiff batter or softdough. Having taken the entrails out of your fish or bird (unless it is a woodcock), roll it in that dough until it iscom- pletely encased in a clay mould half an inch thick. In this condition lay itdown on the the hole and draw in coals and hot nd a layer of earth over it so as to cover it deeply. Then if the thing to be cooked is large, start a small fire over it and keep burning steadily until the cooking is done. The time requisite for that is a little longer than would be required in a good Kitehen range, but is so —— upon the quality of wood used, the length of time the fire has been heating the ground, the dampness of the clay envelope, and the fire maintained above, that only a certain measure of experience and good judgment can inform you, with any exactitude. when the mo- ment shall have arrived for you to rake out the dinner. When you crack off the hard-baked clay it will take with it every feather, scale or hair, and you will have game cooked in a fash- ion infinitely superior to other known by man, Such tenderness, juiciness and perfec- tion of flavor are absolutely unattainable by any other method, When you cannot possibly get clay you may wrap your game in wet brown per and bed it dowa in a mass of fresh grass, | cateeinpleict ache you happen to camp near to salt-water. The sea-weed is only pre- ferable where fish, clams, oysters, lobsters or crabs are to be cooked, When you want to bake beans or bread in that hole put the material into one of your sheet-iron mess pans and place the other over it, mouth downward, the ears keeping it in position. Otherwise proceed as if cooking ime, only keep your fire over it considerably longer. You will find it a good idea to line the hole.completely with round boulders, of the size of small cocoanuts, if you can get them handily. They will prevent the annoyance of the burned earth crumbling into the hole and will retain strong heat longer than the earth without them would, —— ~ — Sz IT RAINED AND THEY HAD NEGLECTED TO DIG A TRENCH AROUND THE TENT. You may take it for granted that some tion of the time you are in camp there will be heavy rain and iong-continued drizzles, when the air will be humid and cold inthe tent and if you go to the out-door fire for warmth your clothing will be saturated, your eyes filled with smoke and you will only get one side of you warmed at once, anyway. To i this, dig a trench 18 inches wi and of the same depth across the space your tent is to oc- cupy and cover it with flat stones and earth to adepth of 3or4inches, Slope out one end so that you can conveniently poke sticks into it fuel. At the other end bi up a chimney feet high with crossed sticks and mud, which you may finish with a barrel both tag re ne Sane if you want to, ys which you are going to be out of the tent. all the while raise its sides and start a = to mera other fire, and let east wind the 's fire ora truly be said to be complete, You will wanta a or notch, in the gredy-dy—eg to it up ata proper angle before the fire, and a iittle Tuner on Rho face to lead the over- flow of dripping and juices to the below. But these considerations are seductive, leading inevitably into telling what good things may be cooked in camp, and that is too broad a field to enter. J. H. Connenix. Written for Tax Eventvo Stan. Little Girls. (2 RONDEAU AND A ROUNDEL) Surely most sweet of all creatures that we In this beautiful world may anywhere meet, Are little girls, so frolic and free, Yet with dove-like innocence so replete ‘That scarcely of earth they appear to be. ‘Their fresh, young beauty is joy to me; It lends to my heart a livelier beat, ‘That sings, “Ah, these are of all I see, Surely most sweet!” Seem sorrow and care from them to flee, As from angels evil things retreat; And of all that’s sweet, be it fruiton tree, Or flower in field, as all poets agree, ‘The sweetest are little girls, I meet, Surely most sweet, 2, In a few short years what changes occur! ‘These sweet, little, rosy-cheeked young dears Will be grandmothers all, if 1 don’t err, In a few short years. The plays, the laughter, the childish tears, And schooldays soon will be things that were; And they will have other hopes, joys, fears. And dreams of her girlhood then will stir Each, as she through her spectacles peers, And thinks of the flowers that'll bloom o'er her, Ina few short years. —W. L. SHOEMAKER. —_—— SOMETHING ABOUT BARBERS. Hints About Shaving. From Medical Classics. The barber is a classic institution. He traces his calling to the most ancient times, He is referred to by the prophet Ezekiel: “And thon, son of man, take thee a barber’s razor, and cause it to pass upon thine head and upon thy beard.” Distinguished persons have been connected with his craft, such as Aesibius, the great mechanic, who first applied air as a mo- tive power, and invented a water-clock and a hydraulic organ, some 200 years ago. The father of Richard Arkwright, Lord Tenderden and Lord St. Leonard used razors to gain a living. In former times barbers performed some of the duties of surgeons, a custom that seems to have prevailed in all countries, They were cuppers, leechers, phleboto- mists (blood-letters), and crude den- tists. To this day on the barber's pole there are stripes that represent a twisted or spiral ribbon, which symbolizes the ribbon which the barber of ye olden time wound round the arm of the victim previous to blood-letting. In London, Edinburgh, and elsewhere, barbers formed corporations with certain privileges that are now enjoyed by surgeons. In fact, the barber, if not the father of lies, is the father of a good many things. He is the alpha or be- ginning of the modern dentist, and also of our modern sawbones, Compare the brilliant and steady-nerved surgeon of to-day with the bar- ber-surgeon of the past, and you will no doubt be quite ready to admit that'in this line “evo- lution” has put in some of its finest work. The ancient barber furnished an excellent substitute for the modern newspaper. He was, indeed. a walking gazetteer or periodical, of which the last number was always recent and ready spread for perusal—an ever busy re~ orter, who, guiltless of short-hand notes or jetter-press, contented himself with those sim- pler media of receiving and conveying informa- tion—the tongue, eyes, and ears, ‘The shop of the higher class of these tradesmen formed a good apology for the modern club-room; and that of the humbler of his craft for the tavern or beer-house. The ancient Sicilians paid considerable at- tention to dress and the cosmetic arts, and among them the trade of a “barber” became a distinct occupation, and one of considerable importance. The first “barbers” were brought from Sicily to Rome, by one Ticinius Mena, B.C. 303, In the course of afew years they had so multiplied that the city was full of them. Their shops (tonstrine) soon became the common resort of loungers and idlers of every description. There the gossiping and inquisitive portion of the community sought for fashionable news and information respecting affairs of state; there the reports of the night's broil and the last intrigue found ready tongues to disseminate them, with all their attendant slanders, to the remotest corner of the city: there the affluent and the indolent consumed their time in courtly chit-chat, and there, too, the less opulent and the industrial classes met for rec- reation, and discussed current politics, when the hours of toil and business were over. Even the poorer citizens, according to Horace, sought refuge from their ennui by making a round of the barbers’ shops:— “Mutat ceenacula, lectos, Balnea tousores.”” The attention of the Roman barber was first and principally directed to the hair, in which department of the toilet he is said to have ex- celled to a degree that might justly excite the envy of the modern “artiste” in his ee After the hair the beard received the ‘immediate ex- ercise of his skill, and here he was equally at home, shaving it or trimming it with great ex- ertness and taste. He next operated on the ands and trimmed and polished the nails, at the same time removing any callosities that had formed on the palms or joints. The man whose hair was dressed or cut un- tastefully subjected himself to general remark, and his unfortunate valet became the object of opprobrium wherever he was alluded to, A “bungling barber” could scarcely ply his trade with profit in the Roman capital or in any of the larger provincial towns, and would have been continually subjected to personal insult, if not actual chastisement, from his customers, THE BARBER OF TO-DAY, So much for the barber of classic history and the barber of literature. Now for the man of to-day and his razor. The edge of the razor consists of a great number of minute points, commonly called teeth, which, if the razor is in itself good and in good condition, follow each other through its whole extent with great order and clearness, and constitute by their unbroken regularity its exclusive keenness, The edge acts on the beard not so much by the direct application of weight or force as being drawn, even slightly, along it; because by operation the fine teeth of which it consists = in quick succes- sion in the same part of the substance. The best razors will have the teeth of their edges set almost as regularly as a good saw, and the — — in — arazor is to iyi iene edge by means of a strong magnifyin, This almost explains the good ‘effect “os the razor caused by dipping it in hot water, which necessarily clears the edge of any small clog- ging substances, RAZORS GET TIRED, We close this article with some hints on the art of shaving and the care of the razor, which will be of value and interest, Barbers often assert that “razors get tired” of shaving, and that they will perform satisfac- torily if itted to rest for atime. It will be found by microscopic examination that the tired razor, from long stropping by the same hand and inthe same tion, has the ultimate fibers of its surface or edge all arranged in one direction, like the edge of a piece of cut vel- vet; but after a month’s rest these fibers rear- range themselves, heterogeneously, crossing each other and presenting @ saw-like edge (as described above), each fiber supporting its fel- low, and hence cutting the beard instead of be- oo down flat without cutting, as when ry. HINTS AS TO SHAVING. Never fail to well wash your beard with soap and cold water, and'to rub it dry, immediately before you a the lather, of which the more you aed andthe thicker it is, the easier you Never use warm water, which makes the face irccan corms sie anc toute in cold weat ) eA TE ON SE OE TE EM to warm The moment leave your bed (or bath) is dhs best time 2 shave. ) # MR. BASH’S LITTLE SCHEME. I A boundless sweep of Dakota prairie—who that has looked upon it can ever forget it, or lose the unique impression that it leaves? Nothing save the sea gives an equal sense of loneliness and vastness. For several hundred miles the James river cuts a wavering channel through the plain; and at a certain spot on the low bluff overlooking the stream stood, some five years ago, a soli- tary settler’s hut—a small structure of vertical planks bolted toa square frame of pine stud- ding. The homesick “tenderfoot,” in his all- day drives over those grassy regions of space, would come, at long intervals, upon these rude dwellings, and bless the gods for the sight of the plump familiar-looking fowls that were alwavs to be seen in their vicinity. They, the chickens, seemed a link between this outlan- dish treeless world and the amenities of civili- zation. There were the usual number of those crow- ing, clucking, feathered folk about the — to which we allude. There was also a smail cow, tethered to astake afew rods distant, cropping over the area of wild grass accessible within her rope’s length. This same buffalo grass had an odd look on the warm June after- noon of which I write. It looked disheveled, like the fur of an animal which had been brushed the wrong way. There had been a re- cent heavy rain, and there were many gullies or washouts, trending riverward in the loose scil. The natural outlook of the little house would seem to be upon the river; but it pre- sented to the sluggish stream a cold shoulder, or rather a bare corner, Outside the open door, on a low wooden bench, sat a young Swede girl, plying a crochet- hook upon a large piece of cotton knitting—a bed-cover, window-curtain, or the like. She seemed to have an eye upon the cow, and sang softly to herself as she worked. Her yellow hair hung in two thick braids to her waist, and she had on a boy’s palm-leaf hat, Her atten- tion seemed absorbed, and her hat brim shaded her eyes, but her quick ears discerned the sound of distant wheels. Without looking up she called to some one within the house, ‘Miss Parkman, I think he comes to see us now—Mr. h.” The mistress of the small domicile came to the door; @ tall dark-haired young woman, wearing a loose white gown ‘confined at the waist by a black velvet girdle. She looked northward, where a man driving a single buggy could be ‘seen approaching. Some inward sense of amusement kindled her face into a brilliant smile, as she said, “What do you sup- pose he will say, Rita?” The Swede girl answered the smile with one of her own. “He will say, “What ever made the house turn round?” Miss Parkman came out and sat down on the bench beside the girl, awaiting her visitor's approach, A few minutes later he was walking his horse up to where the two girls sat. He had pushed his wide felt hat far back on his head, and was curiously regarding the prem- ises,’ He answered their cheery salutation half absently, a knot of paplesity between his blue eyes. When he had alighted and thrown down ahitching weight, he looked again at the shanty and remarked: “The smart work of the wind devil, eh? When did he strike you?” “Who—the lone?” queried Miss Parkman. Then went o1 londay afternoon about 4 o'clock. It was only a baby tornado, and did just what you see—it lifted the house, turned it half-way round, and set it down gently.” “Where were you and Rita?” “We saw it coming, the funnel, and could sesily make outits direction. So we turned the cow loose, and started her running down river; then we slipped over the bluff, and sheltered ourselves in a little hollow we knew of. There was hardly a breeze down there, and up here all that roaring! When it was over we came back, and found the house turned this way. The door was open, and a lot of my books and papers had flown away. Nothing else was dis- turbed.” “Aren’t you about ready now to go back to town andstay there?” asked the young man. “And give up my claim? Nota bit of it! We were not much frightened, were we, Rita? And now I shall feel quite secure. My cyclone, the one I have been expecting, has come ahd gone; there will not be another this summer, I feel sure.” ou area cool, brave girl, and I admire you intensely,” said Bash, with ‘open-eyed frank- ness. “Thank you kindly,” she responded, answer- ing his direct gaze with her own. Then they both laughed, Rita shooed the chickens away from the door; then went and led the little cow to a fresh graz- ing ground. Pauline Parkman had lived in Dakota since October, and in the shanty on the prairie since the Ist of April. The year preceding her re- moval to the northwest had been one of trials. In the first place she had lost her father. who, though long a confirmed invalid, had always planned that his only child, motherless since infancy, should not know a want or care. It is probable that he died in entire ignorance of the fact that false friends and dishonest part- ners had been steadily undermining ‘xis for- tune. Pauline was glad of that ignorance when the disagreeable knowledge came to her. She had many admirers, and shortly before her father’s death one of them obtained the promise of her hand. He urged a speedy mar- riage, but Pauline, absorbed and anxious about the failing old man, had gently put him off, In the first days of her bereavement she had found his tenderness a great solace, and when she and the world discovered that, instead of being a wealthy heiress, she had barely a few hundreds to call"her own, she turned to him with simple trust, counting the world well lost if love were left. She was astonished at the ef- fect which the bene tlle! of her father’s in- solvency had upon her lover. He was per- turbed andangry. He consulted lawyers and ransacked records and business files. His chagrin and disappointment were so painfully evident that one day Paulin. freed herseif with a wrench. “What do you mean?” he asked, “I mean,” she replied, “that I am wofully tired of hearing about that lost property. Sup- posing there has wrong been done, it is past our power to right it now. I have been long- ing for the aay when youcould give it all up, and we could find a little peace and happiness with each other, independent of all outside. That day will never come. Go your way and I'll go mine.” And he took her at her word. She had hardly expected such promptness, and was pained and humiliated beyond expression. But she was not crushed nor hopelessly embittered. She had one dear and intimate friend, a Mrs. Cly- mer. When that lady was about to join her husband, who had been for a year in Dakota, and begged Miss Parkman to accompany her, the latter did not hesitate an hour. She spent the almost arctic winter snugly housed with the Clymers in their new home. George Clymer was aland agent, and when spring came, and Pauline expressed a wish to pocorn @ quarter-section on the James, some miles from the village of Cornhill, where they had settled, her friend said: “You can certainly do it, if you have the nerve to hold it down the required time. In six months you can ‘prove up,’ at small cost, and in less five years the land will be worth 50 per acre.” Her life on the claim, with her cow and chickens, and the Swede girl as companion and servant, had not been un t; and now, even with the terrors of a recent cyclone in mind, she was not ready to abandon it. Howell Bash was a partner of Clymer’s in the the real-estate office. He was from same fair city in Ohio. Miss Parkman knew his family, and had known him sligh' before he went to college. He = since Cornhill came into existence, and infection with the young ety ofits lone ores of werea constant source of amused interest to Miss Parkman. He wasa brilliant, young fellow of threegnd-twenty, combi the characteristics of a sharp lawyer, a ex- quisite, and a cow-boy. On this occasion he went to his buggy, and ~ lg Apprendre box. He opened it, displaying a dozen tea-roses disposed on a He went to a friend, a young physician, who shared his faith in Cornhill, and together they concocted a plan to have a rival celebration, agers, it.wes this project, in pert, that had agers. It was this pro} pai brought him out to sce thier Partenen, “I wanted your blessing upon it,” he said, earnestly. “My blessing upon such a piece of black da- eons ig she exclaimed. “I've half a mind to tray you :. the enemy. Have you told “Not yet,” he answered. “He'd throw cold water if we told him now; but once we've got the thing well started he'll help us through. “You'll get yourself into trouble,” said Pauline. Then the absurdity of the whole affair flashed upon her, and she broke into the wildest, merriest laugh. “Oh, Howell, you audacious boy! What if you should succeed! It would get into all the papers.” “I've been afraid of that,” he remarked, showing his fine teeth in a grin. Then, smiting the bench with his rolled-up sombrero, “Get into the papers?—of course it will; it will vertise town from Bismarck to Yankton.” IL Two days later a grand Fourth of July cele- bration was placarded all over Cornhill. Great things were foreshadowed in a general way, and the oration would be delivered from a plat- form in the public square “by one of Dakota's most distinguished and eloquent speakers.” Some 7 miles from Rodney and 10 from Corn- hill, as the crow flies, was the village of Bris- tol, then the terminus of the one raikonl that had pushed its way into that quarter of the ter- ritory. A hack carried passengers from the station to Rodney, and Dr. Otis Bash’s con- federate ascertained definitely that Judge Staf- ford had been instructed to take that convey- ance upon his arrival. When the Fargo express stopped at Bristol on the aight of the 3d, and Seaee Stafford stepped down to the platform, a well-built, honest-faced, frank-looking young man stood before him with outstretched hands. “Jus Stafford, I believe? My name is Bash. My friend, Dr. Otis, Judge. ‘Committee of reception, you see.” “Glad to meet you, gentlemen,” said the judge, heartily. “I expected to make Rodney in the hack, but this is much better,” and he climbed into the carriage, toward which they had hurried him rather precipitately, Otis took a seat beside the orator, and Bash, on the front seat, gathered up the ribbons, and touched the strong bay horses with the w! It was a stirring night drive, making ten mil in the time of seven. When they reached Corn- hill’s one hotel, the Taft house, everything was quiet there. Stafford took alight supper and retired. He proved to be a good morning sleeper, much to the gratification of the four men now in the conspiracy—Bash, Otis, Clymer and Taft, the latter being the proprietor of the hotel. When his breakfast was served, Otis and Bash took theirs also, sitting one on each side of him. “We must keep the Yahoos about town from getting at him,” said Bash to his partner in crime, ‘‘and we must rush him around till his head swims, so that he can’t ask a question or read a sign.” And they did it. If Stafford was inclined to wonder at this ex- cess of attention on the part of the reception committee, he was prepared also to submit to it racefully. He was a politician, as well asa lawyer and jurist. He had ambitions inter- woven with the future of the territory, and was entirely willing to be made much of as a rising public man. After he had breakfasted he was conducted to the land-office, where he met Mr. Clymer, ‘Then he was put into the carriage again, and with Clymer beside him, and the two young men on the front seat, he was whirled through and all around the village. Returning to the hotel, Bash’s private rig was found standing at the door. “Now, judge.” said he, “I want to give you a little spin after the prettiest stepper in six counties,” The judge good-naturedly got ont of the car- riage and into the light buggy. As Bash and his prize disappeared from sight three men on the hotel steps drew a long breath of relief. “Well,” said Otis, ‘he’s taken care of till 12 o'clock, anyhow.” Taft, the landlord, gave a slight shiver, as he remarked, ‘I shouldn’t like to be in you fel- Jers’ shoes, Doc, if he getson to your racket afore he leaves town. He's got a pile of dig- nity, for all his oily talk. It just makes my hair crawl to think of playin’ a fool trick on a man 0’ that style.” The town was filling with people. Where they came from it would be hard to say. “Who makes the speech?” was asked of Taft more than once. And he would reply: “Oh, a big gun from Fargo. Can't think of his name, but he’s on deck all right. Gone off just now for a buggy ride with Howell Bash.” Out on the plain, speeding against a fresh breeze, Bash talked to his companion like one inspired. He talked of horses and lands; of politics and the approaching elections; of the whether, the crops, and cyclones, Then, as if @ sudden thought hadstruck him, he said: “By- the-way, I'd like to show you the latest cyclone freak: a homesteader’s shack picked up and turned around, without breaking a pane of lass or tumbling the cups off the dresser. It's less than a mile there, and I'd like to call with you. A lady lives in that shack. “The elect lady?” queried Stafford, glancing smilingly at the young man, into whose face had come a look of boyish diffidence. He was himself a bachelor of six-and-thirty, having, with his various preoccupations, not much to do with women; but having, never- theless, no particular dislike to making the 2 po of such of them as were sensible and agreeable. In reply to his playful question Bash anwered promptly, ‘I’m free to say she is, so far as my electing power goes. But she’s all above me, and away off. She's better then I am, and cleverer. Then, too, she’s a trifle older, which, af course, gives her the right to look down upon me and lecture me, I don’t mind the airs or the lecturing, but I'd give a block of town lots if those three years were in my favor.” They were quite near the little house. ‘“Per- Ts may be intruding,” the judge ven- tur e “I think not,” said Bash. “She is always glad, in a friendly ¥, to see me, and she is always dressed and always at ease.” Stafford glanced about him, after his intro- duction to Miss Parkman. He had seen the in- teriors of many asod house and slab shanty, but never such a one as this. Usually there were only the tokens of a bare, hard life of toil. Here were evidences of culture and re- finement. The hut sheltered a delicately-reared though strong-natured woman, and everything within its small = bore witness to the fact. Pauline received her callers under that low roof with ® gracious courtesy that would have adorned a mansion. After a time Rita came from a little sod house, which was their kitchen, bearing on a small ‘tray three glasses of cool milk anda plate of thin sweet-cakes, Stafford’s nature was not without its vein of poetry. The situation seemed for the moment idyllic, and the simple collation was the nectar and ambrosia of the Ee. On a table near the one small window he noticed drawing materials, and slipping from a portfolio were sepia washes on Whatman’s aper, bewitching things iu brown and white. Beth aaeaee Judge's — —— ~e st, an forward the portfolio, he mite artutic riches. Fe and hovering over a hidden nest. There were studies of wild flowers and weeds arranged in cup or glass with an indescribable ‘grace, wn. i sas t mn The speech was several degrees removed from the usual Independence Day rodomdutade. It was shot through and across with trae patriot- ism, hard sense and wise counsel. He spoke fluently for nearly two hours, to the evident delight of his anditors, Toward the close he began to draw up to the le. to re- fer to local interests and ta, ina finely-turned sentence he gave a laudatory hoist to the town of Rodney, bringing out the name round and fuil, aka “Cheese that!” shouted a stentorian voice in the audience, The jadge paid no attention to the interray tion and talked on rapidly, till at length, al- most in the closing sentence, the offensive name was again uttered, The reception com- mittee tried to surround him as he descended from the piatform, but a tall, raw-boned farmer, in jean trousers and a sorrel coat rather short in the sleeves, crowded his way up to the speaker and took him by the arm. “Look here, stranger,” he said, “you made a big mistake a bit ago, or else I'm badly mixed. Idruv my mules since sun-up. thinkin’ I was comin’ straight to Cornhill, ‘n’ if 1 got so fur out o’ my way as ter be in Rodney now, I'd like somebody ter tell me.” “Come, Judge, you're tired,” said Bash, try- ing to draw him away, “If you wait till th mossbacks get around you, they'll use you up. This last in an undertone. But a dark suspicion had crossed Stafford’s mind, “What's the name of this town?” he thundered at the crowd, not caring who an- swered, “Corphill—Cornhill on the Jim,” came from a dozen throats; and the man in the sorrel coat remarked: “Yaas; and this town and Rodney love one ‘nuther like a wild-cat and a conger. They don’t nowadays seem to take ther milk outen the same nussin’-bottle.” Stafford had grown white with anger. Turn- ing hotly upon Bash and Otis, he said: “And you—you sacle oye teeny knowing I was pledged and advertised to speak at the other place! What have you to say in explanation of such an unmanly proceeding —such an unheard- of outrage?” “Nothing,” said Bash, coolly, “only we were determined to take the yawp out of the mouths of that blatant crew over yonder, and get their measly paper stopped. And all stratagems are fair, I take it, in love and land-office busi- ness.” “How far is it to Rodney?” asked the judge, seeming to hurl the question at the people again.” ‘Just five miles.” said Bash, with anima- ‘and if you'd like to go over there I'll take you in my buggy. You might speak there this evening, you kno “You'll not take me in your buggy, Stafford, fairly trembling with rag here’s your money,” thrusting the three Bash’s face. not have a penny of it; I'll have none of you in any shape;” and turning on his heei, he strode away to the one livery stable in the town. About sun-down he suc ceeded in getting a rig harnessed up, and a man to drive him to Rodney. Having arrived there, he inquired for a cer- tain leading citizen with whom he had corre- sponded relative to the oration. He found him the center of an excited group, who had just learned that he, Stafford, had «spoken at Corn- hill that afternoon. A disorderly throng fill the streets; and when it transpired that the ¢ 1 nt judge was on the ground, and had ed to address them, a volley of unflattering epithets was let loose, and it was distinctly as- serted that he would not better attempt to serve up any “warmed-over eloquence” on that crowd, Thoroughly disgusted with the whole south end of Dakota and ordered the driver to take bim straight to Bristol, and get there in time for the going north. A dozen tipsy cow-boys followed him as he drove away. They marched with long strides, their ds thrown back, and their mouths opened to their fullest width, as they bawled after our hero a senseless song, the refrain of which was: “By, baby, byoo—ood-by, my lover, cood-by.” He left them behind at last, their musical bellow growing faint in the distance. The train had gone when he reached the station, He turned into the small, unpromising hotel, and called for supper. It came, and was, much to his surprise, plentiful and excellent. The strong, finely flavored tea acted asa sedative upon his irritated nerves, and when the meal was finished he was able to think calmly over the day's occurrence. He was assigned a rather bare but decent room on the ground floor. and threw himself into a wooden rocking-chair by the open win- dow, through which came a cool, delicious breeze, such as the early starlight often brings after a hot day in Dakota. It played over bis face and neck, soothing his pulses and kindling his imagination. Screening the small lamp from the draught, he took from his breast-pocket the little book he had found that morning, and spread it open for perusal. Then he drew back, «mitten with a wave of self-disdain for daring to look un- asked into a woman's heart. Again he bent over the closely-written pages. Not for idle curiosity, he said to himself. but for knowl edge, and he turned the leaves as reverently as though the little rain-blurred, storm-beaten thing were a sacred missal with a winged angel emblazoned on every page. The knowledge he sought was there. No name of person or place did the record contain, but through its brief entries certain facts were made clear. She had known love and pain and loss. She was free, and rejoiced in her freedom, unembittered by all she had passed through. She had outgrown the narrow egoism of early youth, which seeks to bend the universe to the favoring of per- sonal aims. She was full of calm hope and tru of shrewd insight, of delicate humor, of mpassing charity. he is one of a thousand!” said Stafford, half aloud, laying his hand upon the page with a caressing touch. The next morning the judge secured a team of ponies and a light wagon, and started out fora solitary drive. He found the river, and followed its course till Miss Parkman's clajm was reached. Rita was indoors with Pauline, and neither was conscious of the approach of a stranger till Stafford’s solid figure darkened the doorway. Miss Parkman rose hastily, a look of surprise in her eves, and a wave of warm color suffusing ber sensitive face, The self- consciousness of both was intenre. Suddenly it dissolved into thin vapor, leaving their two souls confronting each other, calm and unem- barrassed, with a question of destiny between pt Gin them. Pauline was the first to peculiar look of her own—a little frown above the eyes melting into the smile a ners Arian Whisky. werg. ver ‘0 what | German Korie she made this very formal in do I owe the honor of this visit: “My horses are thirsty,” said the Pudge. “and the bank is too abrupt to admit of dri ing into the river. I thought would kindly lend me a pail with w! some water.” Then the flaxen-haired Swede girl quickly: “I will give them drink, sir. I would love to do it. My father at the farm has horses many, and I feed and water them often.” She went to the sod house fora pail, and then ran down the slope to the river. Stafford took the seat offered rather-strained situation was relieved by the appearance on the scene of three fluffy yor chickens, which had got chilled overnight, an were being coddled in a basket of cotton. They “T fuss with the that I have lost most of my books.” “How do you get your mail?” ‘They come to see me every week, and now and then I spend s Sunday with them. Did you ae pee, Gia" ecld Stafford, a ing his co ie met most intention. Later I met the citizens of Miss Parkman, were you in the secret e jndge got into his carriage | train | hb nk, With a| scotch CORDIALS. him, and the | Chartreuse—Yellow—guart.. d from their warm nest and went hop- | Mamechi= ping about the floor, and Pauline had to cap- | Gurscoen: ae and put them Benedictine—q chickens,” she said, “to pass | Cherry Cordial away the time, for the days drag a little, now Gaerey Bounce. ¥ iked the ‘Beltzer Water—in quart jugs. judge, glancing at some fresh periodicals on | | BURGUN: ae fable. | “It all comes to the care of Mr. Clymer in | Chambertin.. town. The Clymers are my very good friends, | Chaolis—White. owed, his well-cut features and expressive gray eyes— there was nothing unfamilar about them, And his rich tones!--1ts tones had haunted her memory since yesterday, and to-day it to her that she must have heard them in some erentons: state of existence. sun was an hour past the meridian when he took his ——_ In the interval since his coming he had told her a good deal about himself and about the widowed sister with whom he lived, and about his aims and pur- suits since he came to the northwest. When Rita brought in luncheon he rose in dismay, and would have gone at once, but Pan- a said, quietly: “It is a long way back to ‘Bristol. Rita has given your ponies some grain, and you must have some luncheon.” How delicious he th it it! strong, rich coffee, with bread and butter, an: Before he took leave he bad begged the smallest of her sepia drawings, and obtained her consent to a correspondence. “Shall I tell Howell about this visit?” Pauline asked herself when she was alone again. The question received a negative answer; and she added, mentail: future course with ree gard to that young man must be a very decided one, On the 5th of October Mr. Bash receiveds telegram from Fargo in these words: “Meet me at Bristol on the m with the chestnut colt and the buscy of te 7 “NORMAN STAFFORD.” The boy who brought the message took back ol transmission over the wires this brief reply: “1'll be there. Howernt Base.” “I suppose,” said Bash, when he showed the telegram to Clymer, “Stafford has some mat- ter of business that brings him down this way, and this is his offer to shake bands across the chasm. Ili warrant he has felt a good deal ashamed over his getting #0 tearing mad about a trifle. I'm right glad the matter has taken this turn, and it couldn't have happened nicer —right on the top of all the other good luck, The rose leat on the wine cup.” ‘The young man’s fine spirits were chiefly due to some lucky land speculations, and to the fact that the railroad company had resumed work aud was pushing the line straight for Cornhill, leaving Kodney a mile anda half on one side, He was fresh and blooming as the perle des jardins in his button-hole when Judge Stafford met him on the railw latform that fine Oo- tober morning. After hearty greetings (Bash led the way to his buggy, which stood near, Before getting in Stafford said: I have not yet told you where I wish to go.” ‘0 Cornbiil” jotat once. Firstoutto Miss Parkman's claim. She will be leaving it in a week or two, and Ihave an unconquerable desire to see her again, in the little shack on the prairie where I first found her. We have exchanged letters for the past three months, and we are now engaged to be married.” Bash’s surprise gave him, for the moment, an imbecile appearance. His erect figure drooped, — he whistled vacantly across the back of his rs, Brace up, my dear boy,” said the judge, he would never have married you anyhow. I feel perfectly sure of that.” “You're not at all sure,” said Bash, with a sort of whine in his tones. “I was making good | headway till the day I took you out there. Get | in—get in.” With the wind in his face, and the chestnut's wiry pull on the reins, Bash rose to the occasion, ‘Of course I'll take you out there,” he said, course | wish you joy, both of you, But honestiy, now, judge. doesn't this proceed- | ing of yours look just a little like sneaking up | ona man in his sleep?” The judge laughed, an exuberant, joyous laugh. “I'm sorry, Mr. Bash, if it loaks that way to you. I can only offer, in extenuation of my course, a brilliant aphorism, of which you the author —-All stratagems are fair in love and land-oftice business.’”—Angeline Teal, in | Harper's Bazar They bad cream, fresh ives—that was all Ez RE WINES AND LIQUORS AT A KEDUCTION OF 20 PER CENT WILL CONTING ar ASAD! COMPANY'S” Wines and Brandies This ards are located in Los Augeles County, So it ata a ripen mw rthern Calif’ genial climate, A.is for this reason that the majority of the betters Class “physiciaus aud) drug this) District neir patients Wanita pure aud st Burgundy. Port, Che Hock or Brandy. Ii, for tom tw: ad di turn sour for days .fter abottle has been opened, which is not the case with other wines. PLEASE COMPARE MY PRICES WITH THOSE OF OTHERS. ret, extra quality. Burgundy Chamvagne, pints, 2 dozen. Norton's Virginia Seedling, per 4G: Port—Bungundy.... Port—id Loudon Doct Sherry —Cooking— Sherry—Good Tabl Sherry—Dufl Gordo: Sherry—Amontillado. 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