Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, December 30, 1908, Page 10

PLS OO OP A LP OP OP I OO OO OO THE USUAL THING i a jE No more we'll swear, no more we'll No more our money squander; No more we'll lick theit mother; Of church we'll be much fonder, No more we'll cuff the children’s ears— No more we'll lick thei rmother; No m we'll kick our dog about or borrow from our brother. no more, though oppor- tap no tills this season; A y robbery give up most sufficient reason. We'll want to murder, but we won’t— t to kill a cop or two— We'll itch to maks abductions; We'll want to burn the poorhouse down And make some big reductions, But ‘tis the Day when all resolve— The Day of resolutions; The Day when all ke to feel The need of evolutions. So put it down in black and white, And say it altogether; “Well angels be the coming year, No matter what the weather.” JOE KERR. J UNDER THE SNOW | | TRUE STORY OF NEW YEAR'S EVE | eects ieee eens It was New Year’s eve on Jack Rals- ton’s ranch, and the family and guests were all gathered about the huge open fireplace in the living-room, drinking their coffee after a late dinner. The lights were not lit and the party sat in the flickering light of a big fire of rackling pine logs, which threw out int shadows in direction. was the usual one that arly gathered at Jack Ralston’s to spend the Christmas holidays with and his family. As they sat in the cheerful warmth and glow of the fire they listened to the fearful storm A blizzard had been raging for the past three days; the wind howled and shrieked through » mountain peaks, driving the fast- “1g snow before it and piling it in immense drifts against every every that roared outside. bstruction. It was a bitter, biting, cold wind, too, as it tore through the like a demon seeking whom it destroy, doing its utmost to etely bury the house from view snow; but, sheltered as it was mt rocks, one on each side, ountain-side at its back. s safe, in its snug little from the storm’s greatest ne inclement weather had > men indoors, and they were - over their enforced idle- SS 2d about the amount of me they would have bagged had been able to get out. it’s some time yet be- . Can’t you spin us a inally said Bobby Caruthers, r a leng pause in the conversation. ell, 1 was just thinking,” said Jack, of just such a night as this, fifteen years ago, when, if it had not been for the pluck of that little wom- an yonder, I would not be here tonight to see the new year come in,” and he gazed fondly at his wife, who still ced like a young woman as she the flickering light, although on one side sat her son, a fair young a3 a beautiful girl just blooming into womanhood. “Let’s have it.” came in a chorus from the party. “Well, fill your pipes, and I’ll tell you my story. You see, fifteen years ago, I wasn’t as prosperous as I am now. I was just starting out ranch- ing, had only been here some three years, then, and where this house now stands we only had a small log cabin. Young Jack' over there was only six years old at the time, and Miss Ruth was trotting round, a young three- year-old. The winter had opened bad- ly; snow had come very early, and with it bitter cold weather. We had plenty of fuel, so we managed to keep warm enough. ‘The cabin was in the same spot as this house now is, so the two big rocks helped to keep off the fierceness of the wind; but we were completely buried under the snow, so that we had to dig a tunnel from the front door out into the open air. Myself and all the boys were kept mighty busy talking forage out to spots where the cattle could get it, and so not starve to death. Well, one morning, about two weeks before Christmas, after a heavy snowfall, I started out with all hands on one of these trips, intending to gather all the cattle togther as much as possible, and to build some large hay-stacks, so that they would have plenty of food for some time; also, as ur grub was getting pretty low, we were going to push through to Dolores, to provision up for the rest of the winter in case we couldn’t get through again for some time. I also wanted to get the Christmas presents for the kids; so I told the little wife not to be anxious if I didn’t show up for several days. “Well, we all started, only leaving one of the boys behind, who had been sick and wasn't quite well yet. We had the deuce’s own job fixing up the cattle and getting through to Dolores. It took us over a woek, and several of the boys were badly frost-bitten. We were ready in a few days to push back again, but another heavy snow-fall came, and another, and another, until really it seemed to be snowing all the time. The days slipped by, one hy one, until Christmas came, and there I was snow-bound in Dolores, getting more and more anxious about the folks at home. I knew their grub must be getting low; and, besides, here was Christmas day, and nothing for the kids. I was nearly wild, I can tell you. Well, two days before New Year’s there was a let-up, and I made up my mind to push through at any cost. I could only induce one of my men to come with me; the others flat- ly refused. They said it would be sure death; that another storm was com- ing up—this time a regular blizzard. At any rate, we started on our fifty- mile ride. The trails were simply one succession of immense drifts, so we made mighty slow progress. as we had to lead a packhorse. After one day’s riding we had only gone twenty- five miles, and a new storm was com- ing up; and it proved a regular snort- er, too. We dug a hole in the snow and lay down for a few hours’ sleep, for we were dead beat; but it was so cold that we were only able to get about forty winks, and started again, so as not to freeze to death. “The storm increased, getting worse | and worse as we went on; the snow, | driven by the fierce wind, cut our faces like so many needles, while the bitter cold seemed to numb every faculty and to be slowly freezing out our very lives. My horse then gave out—couldn’t move another step, so I let him go and mounted the pack horse. Night then came on, and our whisky, that had given us some strength and warmth, gave out. We didn’t know where we ‘were, but thought we couldn’t be many miles from home if only we were on the right trail. My man’s horse next gave out, and, as I was stronger than he, I made him get on my horse and hold- ing on to the saddle, walked along by giant, and on the other her daughter, | his side; but only a mile or so further 4 53) ate ny em" oe. ss. Cee SSeS on SD and our last horse dropped down ex hausted.. What were we to do? I don’t know where I got the strength, but I shouldered the pack myself and we both plunged on.. I would not give in—the thought that they might be starving at home forced me on, I don’t know how far we walked; I hardly knew in what direction we were go- ing; my one thought was to keep mov- ing. The poor fellow near me was completely gone, and lay down to sleep. I begged him to get up, to try to move. I beat him; I dragged him along; but he only begged to be left alone. I grabbed him by the collar and just pulled him along, stopping to rest every few minutes. I couldn't see; I couldn’t feel; I myself longed to lie down in the soft snow and go to sleep. Then I thought of the dear ones at home; I would never see them again. This gave me renewed energy, and, dragging my half lMfeless com- rade, stumbling under the weight of the pack, I plunged on. Finally I was completely done; I couldn’t go another step; I felt that death couldn’t be far off. Oh, the utter misery of despair of that moment! I sank down and cried in utter helplessness. I don’t know what made me, but I struggled to my feet once more and called again and again, but the storm only mocked me, and I sank down once more. I was so sleepy and tired, and it was so nice and soft lying in the snow. The next thing I remember I was feeling some whisky being poured down my throat, and then that I was being dragged through the snow and that I was home and safe. Well, boys, do you know who did it? Why, it was that little woman sitting so quiet by the fire, there. It appears that she somehow had a presentiment that I was out in the storm and she kept going to the mouth of the tunnel every little while, as she had been doing nearly every night. When I gave up to die I was nearer home than 1 thought, and she heard my call. She got some whisky, and, making the man hold a torch so that she could find her way back, she plowed through all that snow and storm until she found me, and then by main force she dragged me back to the house. Not only that, but she went back again and brought in the other poor fel- low. What do you think of that for pluck? It was weeks before I got over the effects of that night; but I teil you what, boys, that was the happiest New Year I ever had. It’s nearly twelve o'clock; so fill up, all, and make ready to drink the New Year in when the clock strikes, and one toast that I know you'll all join with me in drinking will be: ‘The Heroine of New Year’s Eve—My Little Wife.” ? THE DECEIVED TURK . 2 eo He had escaped at Christmas, And felt happier than a sinner; But little did his turkship know He was kept for a New Year's din- ner! The Real Christmas Spirit. The real Christmas spirit is pes- sessed by the man, woman or child who, having received a poor little gift, treasures it because it was all the sender could afford. to give. eee rns She Was There. A New York man recently wrote to a lawyer in another town asking for information touching the standing of a person there who had owed him a considerable sum of money for along time. “What property has he that I could attach?” was one of the ques- tions asked. The lawyer’s reply was to the point. “The person to whom you refer,” he wrote, “died a year ago. He has left nothing subject to attachment except a widow.” “DEFECTIVE PAGE Thought It Time. Emily (playing “house”)—Now, Ill be mamma and you'll be papa, and little Ben and Bessie will be our ba- bies. Willie (after a moment, anxiously) —Ain’t it about time to whip the chil- dren? Not Clear. Doctor (after examining baby)— “The child needs a mustard plaster.” Young Mother—“Yes, doctor—ex- ternally or internally?” They Stuck to It. They were discussing the fragility of New Year swear-offs. “And, yet,” said L’Oignon, “I know personally eleven pampered mifion- aires who swore off at the beginnin, of 1908, and who are still firm fs their oath.” “Come, come,” sneered Tete de Veau, “impossible. And what did they swear off?” “Their personal property. ” sal L’Oignon. : ae 4 TUR THE LEAF T aS > — Another leaf we turn to-day In time’s great book of years, And shut the blotted sheet away Whereon the past appears. And to the paper clean and white Sit down with hope aglow, Resolved that what we there may write A fairer page shall show. O lax intent! O bootless zeal! ‘We make our plans in vain; Full soon the passing days reveal Unsightly blots again. Yet to our purpose stout we stand~ No failure faith perceives, ‘Till memory with cruel hand Turns up the shabby leaves. And then we see with bitter grief, As on each scrawl we gaze, Although we’ve changed the year and leaf! We haven’t changed our ways. —C. T. D. uf ? 4A NEW YEAR’S KNOCKOUT | pil a The Busy Edior—Mr. Artist, I want you to get up a handsome sketch for our New Year’s number. There mustn’t be anytning in it about swearing off from drinking, nor smoking—nor any other sort of good resolution. In fact, I want—smething abeit New Year’s that is absolutely novel and has never been done before, aid it must be carried out as quicki~ as possible. And it was. Fy A little flattery now and then will soften the hardest man. ’ State Falr Shows Large Earnings. According to the report of the boaré of audit of the state agricultural so- ciety the receipts for tickets at the last “ir were $174,037, against $142,- 867 a year ago. The books were audited by B. L. Erickson, C. M. Leibrock and H. W. Grimmer and show a balance in the hands of the society of $45,765.77. Re- ceipts from the sale of privileges amounted to $37,429, and the total re ceipts were $291,800. . A NEW YEAR’S TRAGEDY — =s From a bed of hay in a farmer's barn, A tramp he awoke on the glad New Year; He hadn’t a cent, and was hungry and cold, And existence to him was sad and drear. He didn’t expect, as his way he pur- sued, Tho’ bells were a-ringing the glad New Year, To meet a soft snap and have an in- vite To come along in and partake of a beer. The year that was dead was nothing to him— i The year that had dawned was nothing more; He’d continue to tramp and freeze and thaw, And shiver and shake and sleep and snore. But Farmer Jones, with a merciful heart, A heart with a feeling for others’ woe, Caught sight of the tramp as he hoofed along In storm and sleet and a foot of snow. And he called him in with cheerful call, And he gave him to drink of cider new; And he sat him down to a festive As he hoofed along in storm and sleet. ‘And he told him to eat ’till he was through. And the tramp he ate, and stuffed and stuffed, And chewed and chanked and stuffed some more; And of cider he drank a bar’l or so, And of goose he continued to eat galore. From morn 'till noon—from noon 'till night He ate and drank, and the cheer was his; He lost no time in telling his yarn, But strictly attended to what was biz. When night had come, with the hens at roost, The farmer old with the merciful heart; He threw out hints that ’twas time to go, And said he was sorry with friends to part. He hinted some more-—unheeded his words— He ’rose and bent over his guest of the snow; And he found him as dead as a nail in the door. He had gone in the tramp wants to go. way ev'ry t | A GOOD BEGINNING i “I tried to start the year right.” “In what way?” “T began it with a brand new check book.” The Unattainable. You never want the thing you can afford with half the passionate long- ing with which you yearn for that which is beyond your means. ‘A handsome and neatly dressed young lady was walking down the street the other day, followed by her favorite dachshund pup. It was mar- ket day, and the pavement, being somewhat crowded, caused the dog to get some distance behind its mis- tress. Fearing it would lose sight of her, she called, “Come along, sir!” A would-be wit, who was near, step- ped up to her and, with great polite ness, said, “Certainly, miss!” “sh!” she exclaimed, as her pet came running up, “you have made a mistake; this is the puppy I called.” . SOME NEW YEAR’S HOPES | > I hope that coal will take a drop, And rents go down a peg; And that the man who makes the gas Will pull no more my leg. I hope that stocks will take a rise, And hope our Johnny D. Will drop the price of kerosene And make it light to see. I hope for heaps to come to pass, And hope that you'll infer, That I am hoping for us all, Instead of yours. I hope that beef and pork and such Will cheapen quite one-half, And that my hunger may be quenched Should it require a calf. I hope that trusts in boots and shoes, And trusts in all we wear; May find their dividends reduced To thinnest kin of air. I hope that grafters, large and small, Who fatten on the land Will find themselves Sing-Singing as The jury shows its hand. 5 aru There was a small boy, so I hear, Went pouting about on New Year Because dinner was late; So he yelled against his fate— But his dad took hold of his ear! A New Year Visitor. “Is your company thoroughly reli- able, sir?” The speaker, a well-dressed man of middle age, regarded the manager of the Gilt-edge Life with a cautious frown. “Reliable?” exclaimed the manager. “Why, sir, look at this balance sheet. Surplus no less than—” “Yes, yes,” the other interrupted; “but are your directors conservative men?” “Conservative? Have a cigar. They are as careful and conscientious a body of men—” “Then you think I would do wisely, in taking out a $50,000 policy, to come to you?” “Yes, yes.” “Thank you. Then, when I am ready, I will do so. I just dropped in today to ask if you could spare me a half dozen of your beautiful 10 calen- dars?” On the Move. Rev. A. C. Jeffries, the father of the noted pugilist, was contradicting again the rumor that his son would return to the ring. “Jim,” said Mr. Jeffries, “is strong. When he makes a New Year's resolu- tion, he sticks to it. When he says he’ll do a thing that settles it. My boy is never going to fight again. “Jim doesn’t vacillate like old Eph- raim Caldwell, a quondam friend of mine. Ephraim vacillated even in his choice of a home. He was always on the move. “In fact, they used to say that when Eph moved he tied his chickens’ legs together for convenience of transpor- tation, and in time the chickens got so used to this that, whenever he en- tered the henhouse, they would all lie down on their backs and hold up their slim yellow legs to be tied.” The ‘New Year Post Card. “Send him a swear-off post card,’ said the salesman, smiling at the pretty girl “What sort is that?” she asked He showed her a card, beautifully got up, with four or five blank lines beginning, in a Gothic lettering of red and black ink, “I swear Off.” “You see,” said the salesman, “he fills the blank spaces up. ‘I swear off,’ he writes, ‘the booze.’ ‘I swear off gambling.’ ‘I swear off beating my mother.’ ‘I swear—” She flushed and smiled. “He isn’t that sort,” she said. “Don’t judge others by yourself. I'll take three of them.” “Three? He must have a lot of vices,” said the fresh salesman; and then, with a loud laugh at his own freshness, he showed her the little cord whereby the card could be hung above the swearer’s desk, oo. iy —-