Alpine Avalanche. (Alpine, Tex.), Vol. 11, No. 12, Ed. 1 Friday, May 18, 1900 Page: 2 of 8
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Alpine Avalanche.
R. C. MCKINNEY, Publisher.
TEXAS
ALPINE,
By and by is the path that leads to
never.
It is useless to advertise for a lost
opportunity.
A man’s conscience is either his best
friend or his worst enemy.
The truth that occupies a nutshell
finds some minds too narrow to give it
room.
The almighty dollar resembles some
men; it talks without saying any-
thing.
Admiral Dewey will do well to keep
his sea legs on if a Kentucky city has
sent him twelve bottles of the blue
grass product.
Even at the present time there is
enough fighting in the Central Ameri-
can republics to justify the United
States in fortifying the Nicaraguan
canal.
John D. Rockefeller has offered to
give Denison university $100,000 if the
trustees will secure other subscriptions
amounting to $125,000 before the close
of the present term. What fun it
must be for Mr. Rockefeller to see
college trustees and presidents hus-
tle.
Senator Vest recently sent a news-
paper item to be read to the house.
The secretary had the wrong side of
the clipping, and instead of an edi-
torial on the money question, began:
“Ridiculous! We are giving away
these goods at half price!” “The other
side!" cried Mr. Vest.
Admiral Dewey recently appeared
before the house pensions committee
and eloquently advocated the passage
of several bills granting pensions to
the widows of officers who served with
him in the battle of Manila Bay. The
measure now pending provides for
pensions for the widow of Captain
Charles V. Gridley of the Olympia at
the rate of $200 a month; the widow
of Commander E. B. Wood of the
Petrel, at $100 a month; the mother of
Lieutenant Thomas M. Brumley, the
Adnriral's Flag Lieutenant, at $50 a
month, and the widow of Captain
Henry E. Nichols of the Monadnock at
$100 a month.
The enlargement of a church at
Quincy, Mich., and its recent rededi-
cation testify anew to the power one
person may exert in a community.
Thirty years ago Quincy was but a
hamlet, and the Presbyterian church
being reduced to a single member, the
presbytery dissolved the church and
sent a committee to get the minutes.
Mrs. Patter refused either to give up
the minutes or to be “dissolved.”
“What the presbytery should do,” was
her plucky answer, “is to send us a
minister.” Her advice was taken, and
today the church is happy, hopeful and
flourishing. It lived simply because
one earnest Christian woman would
not let it die.
In one of the statistical divisions of
the Department of Agriculture in
Washington may be seen a machine
resembling a typewriter, which multi-
plies and divides with unerring accu-
racy and with great rapidity. Give its
operator a multiplicand of six figures
and a- multiplier as large, and he will
write them out as upon a typewriter;
then he turns a handle a few times,
and before the onlooker knows what is
going on, the product is written out
before him.. The machine performs
examples in division with equal ease.
Does any one of our young readers
fancy that he sees in this invention an
emancipation of boys of the twentieth
century from the vexation of the mul-
tiplication table? Alas! that is too
much for him to hope.
Strike-the-Kettle is not a romantic
name, but the old Indian who bore that
appellation was a leader and a Chris-
tian king among his people. For
many years Strike-the-Kettle was a
scout, protecting the United States
mail from hostile Indians. While on
this duty he was wounded in a fight
with his own people. A few years ago,
when the Dakota prairies were on fire,
the Indians of the Standing Rock
Agency fought the flames for days.
When at last it was feared the whole
village would be swept away, a de-
voted missionary stood watching, with
wagon packed, ready to flee at the last
moment. In the darkness she saw
some one standing by her gate. It
was Strike-the-Kettle. “I can no
longer fight the fire,” said the wound-
ed old scout, “but I will stay here,
Winona. Go to sleep and I will rouse
you in time.” When the exhausted
woman finally woke, all danger was
over, but Strike-the-Kettle was still on
guard. Is it strange that on Memorial
days Winona lays a wreath on the
grave of Strike-the-Ket
TWO LETTERS.
The picture was a decidedly pret-
ty one—there was a sloping lawn lead-
ing down to the river Thames. An old-
fashioned house, with gabled roof and
French windows were ail open, for
the day was a hot one in July. By one
of them a girl stood in a white dress,
with a crimson rose fastened in her
belt Her eyes were lowered; she was
reading a letter.
“It’s awful to think of the two let-
ters coming the same day,” she said to
herself. “Of course, I know what this
letter contains.” Here she looked
down at an unopened envelope which
she was holding firmly clasped in her
right hand. She hesitated as she glanc-
ed at it, and with an effort she took
the second letter out of its cover and
read the following words:
“Dear Margot—For God’s sake, don’t
give yourself to that other fellow be-
cause he is rich. You know perfect-
* well that I love you to distraction.
Y ours.
“ROBERT CECIL.”
“Margot, Margot,” shouted a gay
voice. Some little steps were heard on
the gravel, and a girl of eleven or
twelve years of age, with a quantity
of hair falling over her shoulders, ran
around the house and up to Margot’s
side.
“Sir Peter Ansell is coming down
the avenue, Margot—he is driving his
mail phaeton tandem, and it’s perfect-
ly splendid to see him. Why, how
funny you look, and what is that let-
ter which Gip is worrying? Oh, Mar-
got, it’s in Sir Peter’s handwriting.”
“Pick up all the bits, Polly, do, do,”
exclaimed the elder girl. “Oh, you
wicked Gip, what a nuisance you are.
Why, I had scarcely read the
and—and—”
"Was it very important?” asked
Polly, who was down on her
letter,
knees
helping to collect the scattered frag-
ments.
“Oh, I suppose so; well, it does not
matter. Is Sir Peter coming around
here, Polly? Do I look all right?”
“You look splendid,” said Polly,
with emphasis. “Of course, he’s com-
ing round here.. It’s you he has come
to visit—we all know what he wants.
Oh, Margot, do say yes to him. I do
want to drive a tandem so dreadfully,
and Bob said this morning he was go-
ing to get a pony first thing out of
that old beggar of an Ansell, see if
he wasn’t. You have got to say yes,
and see that you do. Oh, what letter is
that you are crushing up in
hand?”
“Nothing—nobody’s letter,"
Margot, incoherently. “How do
your
said
you
do, Sir Peter?” She held out her hand
to a stout, florid-looking man who
now approached.
“Well, Margot,” he said, “you have
read my letter, and, of course, it’s to
be yes, isn’t it—you do love me a lit-
tle bit, don’t you?”
“Yes, I like you,” said Margot, mak-
ing a desperate effort.
“Well, that’s pleasant to hear—you
can easily change like into love now,
can’t you?”
Margot thought of Bob. who want-
ed good schooling; of Polly, who was
running wild, without any chance of
growing up as a young lady should;
of her father who was over head and
heels in debt, and of her mother, who
had been worried straight out of this
world by money cares.
She shut away the picture of the
man who had sent her the other let-
ter. “After all,” she said to herself,
“what does one girl’s life matter?
Sir Peter is a millionaire, and he can
save us all. Yes, I’ll marry him.”
She turned her face toward the burly
countenance of her lover, and said
bravely:
“You are very kind to me, and I
suppose I’ll love you in time.”
“Yes; that you shall, and pretty
soon, too,” he answered. “Now, give
me a kiss, Margot.”
Margot held up her cheek—Sir Peter
put his arm around her and kissed her
several times.
The rest of the day passed in a sort
of a dream. There was excitement
and delight in the Forrester house-
hold. Margot was kissed, blessed and
congratulated by every soul in the
place. Sir Peter had a long and emi-
nently satisfactory interview with Mr.
Forrester. Margot wondered how she
was ever to go through with it. The
other letter seemed to burn a hole in
her pocket. She felt it wherever she
went.
“You know perfectly well that I love
you to distraction.”
This sentence kept repeating itself
over and over, in her disturbed mind.
Sir Peter was coming back to late din-
ner, and special preparations were be-
ing made in his honor. Mr. Forrester
was uncorking some of his latest good
Burgundy—Polly was filling all the
vases with fresh flowers. There was a
festive air over everything.
Dinner was to be at half-past 7.
At half-past 6 Margot put on her
hat and went out. The great heat of
the day was tempered now by a gentle
breeze. Margot meant to give herself
half an hour of solitude. She meant
during that half hour to read Cecil’s
letter and then tear it into tiny frag-
ments. When the letter was torn up
perhaps that tiresome sentence: “You
know I love you to distraction," would
cease to haunt her.
She went down to the bank of the
river, and, seating herself under
tree, took out the letter.
She had scarcely done so before
a
a
manly voice shouted her name. There
was the dip of oars and the gentle
swish of a boat being propelled rapidly
forward. Cecil, in boating costume,
pulled up under the tree where Margot
was sitting. In a moment he had
jumped out.
“Now, this is luck,” he exclaimed.
"To think that I should find you here,
and absolutely reading my letter. Oh,
I say, Margot, is it—is it all right?”
His bronzed face was pale as he asked
the question, his voice shook.
"No; it’s all wrong,” said Margot,
with a sudden passion. “Oh, Robert,
I’m not strong enough—I could not
withstand them all. We are so fear-
fully poor—and—father’s debts. Rob-
ert, I could not help myself—some one
had to be sacrificed.”
“You don’t mean to tell me,” said
Cecil, interrupting her, and grasping
her arm with such force that she cried
out with pain, “you don’t mean to tell
me, Margot, that after my letter you
have gone and given yourself to that
fellow?”
“Yes, I have,” said Margot, bursting
into a passion of tears. “I have, and
he’s coming back to dinner, and I must
go.”
"Look at me, Margot,” said the
young man. “You don’t love him?”
"No.”
“And do you love me?”
"Yes.”
"Then don’t you think you’re doing
a very wicked thing, a very unfair
thing to Sir Peter?”
“I am marrying him because he is
rich,” said Margot, "and to help all the
others. When a girl has a father and
brothers and sisters, she must sacrifice
herself sometimes. I never told him
that I loved him.”
“Did you tell him that you loved
me?”
“No.”
“I repeat that you are doing wrong,
Margot, and no good will come of it.”
Cecil sprang down the bank once
more and jumped into the boat. Mar-
got returned to the house.
In the hall she was met by Polly.
“Margot,” she exclaimed, “I don’t
know what can be gong on, but Sir
Peter arrived here about a quarter of
an hour ago, and he was not dressed
for dinner, and he seemed to be in a
most awful rage about something. He
is with father in the study. I was lis-
tening at the door and I heard his
voice getting louder and louder, and
father trying to soothe him. Oh, there,
I hear the door opening and father is
calling you. Run, Margot, do run,
and find out what is the matter. Oh,
dear, dear!” continued Polly, "your
eyes are red and your face all stained
with crying. Are things going to turn
out wrong after all?”
“Margot,” called the father, “come
here at once.”
She obeyed him immediately. He
took her hand, drew her into the study
and locked the door.
Sir Peter, whose face was alarming-
ly red, was standing on the hearth rug
He came straight up to Margot when
she entered the room.
“Now young lady,” he said, “I want
to ask you a plain question. Is that my
letter that I wrote to you this morn-
ing, or is it not?”
Here he held up a much chewed
and disfigured morsel of paper.
“Is that my letter?” he repeated;
“is that my signature?”
“Yes;” said Margot, looking at it,
“I’m really very sorry,” she exclaimed,
"Gip has been chewing it.”
“You hear her,” exclaimed Sir Peter,
turning to Forrester. “You see, she
confesses the whole thing. Now, what
excuse have you to make for such con-
duct, Miss Forrester?”
“Margot could have known nothing
about it,” began Mr. Forrester.
"Yes, I did,” said Margot. “I saw
him doing it, but the fact is I was so
busy reading another letter that I did
not wait to stop him. Sir Peter,” she
continued, “I made a mistake when I
said ‘yes’ this morning—I can’t go on
with my engagement. I find that I—I
don’t love you—that I shall never love
you, and that I do love some one else.”
“By Jove!” exclaimed Sir Peter,
"isn’t that a nice confession to make?”
I write you a proposal of marriage and
you allow your dog to chew up my
letter. You accept me in the morn-
ing and you reject me in the evening,
and finally you tell me that you love
another man better than me. Don’t
you think you have behaved very bad-
iy?"
"I do,” answered Margot, "I have
behaved dreadfully both to you and to
the other man."
She left the room without another
word and went up to her bedroom.
The day had begun badly, and now
it was going to end badly. Margot did
not dare to return to the bosom of
her justly aggrieved family again that
night. She cried a great deal; finally
she took Cecil’s letter and read it care-
fully over—not once, but many times.
Then she raised it to her lips and kiss-
ed it passionately, and she got into
bed, and, holding it open in her palm,
she went to sleep with it pressed
against her cheek.
When she awoke the next morning
she felt less unhappy; in short, things
seemed to have cleared themselves a
little in her brain.
She no longer felt that it was her
duty to sacrifice herself to her family.
It so happened that Cecil, who had
called early at the house that morn-
ing, was able to confirm her in this
opinion.
GOLD IN ODD PLACES.
Tin Cans, Boots and Stave Pipes Filled
With It at Cape Nome.
“One of the most notable things
about the new placer gold fields at
Cape Nome,” said a returned miner
the other day, ‘was the careless way
that the gold was stored and cared for
last summer. It was common to find
five-gallon kerosene oil cans half or
wholly filled with gold, standing on
the floor in an unguarded tent or in
the corner of a cabin. I believe that
just before the steamer Bertha sailed
from Nome last October with a big
shipment of gold dust and nuggets to
the San Francisco mint, there was
about half a ton of gold stored in all
manner of primitive receptacles and
odd ways in the tents on the beach.
Besides, there was fully 1,500 pounds
of gold similarly saved in the tents
and cabins of miners along the creeks
and in the gravelly gulches back of
Nome. Any hollow thing was used,
soup tureens, tin cans, glass bottles,
boots, gas pipe, paint buckets, fur gar-
ments and even stockings and go-
loshes. Very few of the miners failed
to get some gold the first day they
panned and rocked for it. Their hoard
grew fast and they had no strong-box,
no pouch, in which to store it. In
some instances the makeshifts were
amusing. One man made a great
pouch for his gold out of an enormous
chest and back protector—a sort of
waistcoat made of sealskin, which he
had cured, dressed and made himself.
Another miner utilized a joint of
stovepipe. He didn’t have even a tent
when he went to Nome. Some one
threw away a rusty stove pipe joint,
and the miner got it. He cut a round
piece of board and fitted it in one end
of the pipe. Then he stood the pipe
up on end on his claim and dumped into
it each day the gold dust as fast as he
washed and dried it. I believe he got
about 90 pounds of gold for his sea-
son’s work last year.”
RATS DEFY THE GUINEA PIGS,
Strange Animals in the "Annex" of the
Lincoln Park Zoo.
Tradition says that mice and guinea
pigs will not live in the same prem-
ises, but this does not prevent the ani-
mal house “annex” in Lincoln park,
Chicago, which contains more than
thirty guinea pigs, from being infested
with mice and rats. The latter, ac-
customed to feed in large numbers at
the grain cribs in the basement of the
annex, refused to abdicate upon the
advent of the diminutive pink-eyed
porkers according to a once-accepted
rule. Rats roam at large all over the
place, and, to emphasize the incon-
gruity, a cage of white mice occupies
a position side by side with that of the
guinea pigs. Guinea pigs occupy a
cage by themselves, cooped up in one
corner of the small animal house, as
the annex is sometimes called. They
are strangers to sight-seeking visit-
ors at the park because this house,
which also contains many other of
the smaller animals of the "zoo,” is
not open to the general public. Zool-
ogists maintain that all guinea pigs
were cavies before the discovery of
America-—for these animals were not
known in Europe until the close of the
seventeenth century, and it is believed
they were introduced from South
America and got their name from
Guinea, afterward corrupted into
“guinea” pigs.
A Fine Natural Harbor.
The finest natural harbor in Puerto
Rico is at Jobos, on the southeast
coast. It is large enough and deep
enough to accommodate ships of any
draught, but it needs an improved en-
trance. In addition to the commercial
value of Jobos harbor, it has a strate-
gic importance not surpassed in this
part of the world. It is perfectly shel-
tered and screened. A naval fleet sta-
tioned there might block any Euro-
pean expedition directed toward Cuba,
the isthmus canal, or the Pacific coast.
Its strategic position in Puerto Rico
corresponds to that of Malta in the
east.
The minister is a pairer and the
policeman is a peeler.
Cures Talk
Great Fame of a Great Medicine
Won by Actual Merit.
The fame of Hood’s Sarsaparilla has been
won by the good it has done to those who
were suffering from disease. Its cures have
excited wonder and admiration. It has
caused thousands to rejoice in the enjoy-
ment of good health, and it will do you the
same good it has done others. It will ex-
pel from your blood all impurities; will
give you a good appetite and make you
strong and vigorous. It is just the medi-
cine to help you now, when your system is
in need of a tonic and invigorator.
Scrofula—" I had scrofula sores all over
my back and face. I took Hood's Sarsapa-
rilla, used Hood’s Medicated Soap and
Hood’s Olive Ointment, and was cured."
Otho B. Moore, Mount Hope, Wis.
Hood’s Sarsaparilla
Is America’s Greatest Medicine.
m LABASTINE is the original
and only durable wall coating,
entirely different from all kal-
somines. Ready for use in
he white or fourteen beautiful
tints by adding cold water.
ADIES naturally prefer ALA-
BASTINE for walls and ceil-
ings, because it is pure, clean,
durable. Put up in dry pow-
. dered form, in five-pound pack-
was ages, with full directions,
LL kalsomines are cheap, tem-
s porary preparations made from
whiting, chalks, clays, etc.,
and stuck on walls with de-
H caving animal glue. ALABAS
TINE is not a kalsomine.
EWARE of the dealer who
ton says he can sell you the “same
thing” as ALABASTINE or
ime “something just as good." He
is either not posted or is try-
a ing to deceive you.
a ND IN OFFERING something
he has bought cheap and tries
W to sell on ALABASTINE’S de-
mands, he may not realize the
damage you will suffer by &
kalsomine on your walls.
ENSIBLE dealers will not buy
a h lawsuit. Dealers risk one by
s selling and consumers by using
tha infringement. Alabastine Co.
own right to make wall coat-
. ing to mix with cold water.
53a HE INTERIOR WALLS of
1 every church and school should
" be coated only with pure, dur-
able ALABASTINE. It safe-
guards health. Hundreds of
S tons used yearly for this work,
a N BUYING ALABASTINE,
7 customers should avoid get-
ting cheap kalsomines under
X different names. Insist on
having our goods in packages
and properly labeled.
UISANCE of wall paper is ob-
A viated by ALABASTINE. It
f can be used on plastered walls,
wood ceilings, brick or can-
vas. A child can brush it on.
3 It does not rub or scale off.
STABLISHED in favor. Shun
all imitations. Ask paint deal-
a er or druggist for tint card.
■ Write us for interesting book-
let, free. ALABASTINE CO.
Grand Rapids, Mich.
MITCHELL’S
(CHEU
PRICE, 25 CENTS.
EYE SALVI
W. L. DOUGLAS
$3 & 3.50 SHOES ^oN
A.Worth $4 to $6 compared—
\ with other makes. /
7 Indorsed by over A
1,000,000 wearers. Lares 1
F ret The genuine have W. L. 7 e VA
1 1 leg Douglas’ name and price B
1 stamped on bottom. Take 7 •
. 1 no substitute claimed to be v
Al si as good. Your dealer dueer A
1 should keep them — if
Vises not, we will send a pair esta s r sine
. Don receipt of price and 25c.07 W
8 1 extra for carriage State' kind of leather,
FAST “site and width, plain or cap toe. Cat. free.
COLOR EYELETS W. L. DOUGLAS SHOE CO., Brockton, Mass.
Ace AlEAc Booker T. Wash.
SEE AE ington has written
1 . the story of his life
TANRET I andwork. He gives
■ E ” his views on the
all his best speeches. White dr eEdem and
are giving advanced orders. A bonanza P
agents. Wri te to-day. We would like to engage
a few able white men to superintend agents
J. L. NICHOLS & co.
No. 912-924 Austell Building Atlanta, Ga,
DADAE WOIG Locomotor Ataxia con-
■ M 1 I quered at last. Doctors
"A a puzzled. Specialists
amazedat recovery of patients thought incurable by
CHASE S BLOOD AND NERVE FOOD.
Write me about your case. Advice and proof of cures
"REE. DR: CHASE, 224 N. 10th St.,PHILADELPALA.Pa
Use Certain Chill Cure. Price, 50c.
W.N. U. HOUSTON, NO. 19, 1900
Wheu Answering Advertisements Kindi-
Mention This Paper.
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McKinney, R. C. Alpine Avalanche. (Alpine, Tex.), Vol. 11, No. 12, Ed. 1 Friday, May 18, 1900, newspaper, May 18, 1900; Alpine, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth1651552/m1/2/: accessed May 22, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu; crediting Texas State Library and Archives Commission.