The Daily Transcript (Norman, Okla.), Vol. 2, No. 184, Ed. 1 Monday, February 15, 1915 Page: 2 of 4
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NORMAN DAILY TRANSCRIPT
The Gall of the
Cumberlands
By Charles Neville Buck
With Illustrations
from Photographs of Scenes
in the Play
(Copyright, ton. by W. J. Will & Co.)
14
CHAPTER XV—Continued.
In two days, the grand jury, with
much secrecy, returned a true bill, and
a day later a considerable detachment
of Infantry started on a dusty hike up
Misery. Furtive and inscrutable Holl-
man eyes along the way watched them
from cabin doors, and counted them.
They meant also to count them coming
back, and they did not expect the
totals to tally.
• ••••••
Back of an iron spiked fence, and a
dusty sunburned lawn, the barrack-like
facades of the old administration
building and Kentucky state capitol
frowned on the street and railroad
track. About it, on two sides of the
Kentucky river, sprawled the town of
Frankfort; sleepy, more or less dishev-
eled at the center, and stretching to
shaded environs of colonial houses set
In lawns of rich bluegrass, amid the
shade of forest trees. Circling the
town in an embrace of quiet beauty
rose the Kentucky river hlllB.
Turning in to the gate of the state-
house enclosure, a man, who seemed
to be an easterner by the cut of his
clothes, walked slowly up the brick
walk, and passed around the fountain
at the front of the capitol. His steps
carried him direct to the main «n-
trance of the administration building,
and, having paused a moment in the
rotunda, he entered the secretary's of-
fice of the executive suite, and asked
for an interview with the governor.
"Have you an appointment?" the sec-
retary asked.
The visitor shook his head. Scrib-
bling a brief note on a slip of paper, he
Inclosed it In an envelope and handed
It to his questioner.
'You must pardon my seeming mys-
teriousneBs," he said, "but if you let
me send in that note I think the gov-
ernor will see me."
Once more the secretary studied his
man with a slightly puzzled air, then
nodded and went through the door that
gave admission to the executive's of-
fice.
His excellency opened the envelope
and his face showed an expression of
surprise. He raised Ills brows qut&tion-
lngly.
"Rough-looking sort?" he inquired.
"Mountaineer?"
"No, sir. New Yorker would be my
guess. Is there anything suspicious?"
"I gueBS not." The governor laughed.
"Rather extraordinary note, but Bend
him in."
Through his eastern window the
governor gazed oft across the hills of
South Frankfort, to the ribbon of river
that came down from the troublesome
hilla. Then, hearing a movement at his
back, he turned, and his eyes tftok in
a well-dressed figure with confidence-
Inspiring features.
He picked up the slip from his desk
and, for a moment, stood comparing
the name and the message with the
man who had lent them in. There
seemed to be In his mind some irrecon-
cilable contradiction between the two.
With a slightly frowning seriousness
the executive suggested:
"This note says that you are Samson
South and that you want to Bee me
with reference to a pardon. Whose
pardon is it, Mr. South."
"My own, sir."
The governor raised his brows
slightly.
"Your pardon for what? The news-
papers do not even report that you
have yet been indicted." He shaded the
word "yet" with a slight emphasis.
"I think I have been indicted wlthla
the past day or two. I'm not sure my-
self."
The governor continued to stare
The impression he had formed of the
"Wildcat" from press dispatches was
warring with the pleasing personal
presence of this visitor. Then his fore-
head wrinkled under his black hair and
his lips drew themselves sternly.
"You have come to me too soon, sir,"
he said curtly. "The pardoning power
is a thing to be most cautiously used
at all times, and certainly never until
the courts have acted. A case not yet
adjudicated cannot address itself to ex-
ecutive clemency."
Samson nodded.
"Quite true," he admitted. "If I an-
nounced that 1 had come on the matter
of a pardon, It was largely that I had
to state some business and that
seemed the briefest way of putting it."
'Then there is something else?"
"Yes. If it were only a plea for
clemency I should expect the matter
lo be chiefly important to myself. In
point of fact, I hope to make it equally
Interesting to you. Whether you give
me a pardon in a fashion which vi >
lates all precedent, or whether I sur-
render myself and go back to a trial
Which will be merely a form of assas-
eination rests entirely with you, sir.
You will not find me insistent."
Then Samson launched into the
story of his desires and the details of
conditions which outside influences
had been powerless to remedy—be-
cause they were outside influences.
Some man of sufficient vigor and com-
prehension, acting from the center of
disturbance, must be armed with the
power to undertake the house-cleaning,
and for a while must do work that
would not be pretty. As far as he was
personally concerned, a pardon aft ir
trial would be a matter of purely aca-
demic Interest. He could not expect
to Burvlve a trial. He was at present
able to hold the Souths in leash. If
the governor was not of that mind he
was now ready to surrender himself
and permit matters to take their
course.
"And now, Mr. South," suggested
the governor, after a half-hour of ab-
sorbed listening, "there Is one point
you have overlooked. Since In the end
the whole thing comes back to the ex-
ercise of the pardoning power, It is
after all the crux of the situation. You
may be able to render such services as
those for which you volunteer. Let us
for the moment assume that to be true.
You have not yet told me a very im-
portant thing. Did you or did you not
kill Purvy and Hollis?"
"I killed Hollis," said Samson, as
though he were answering a question
as to the time of day, "and I did not
kill Purvy." ^
"Kindly," suggested the governor,
"give me the full particulars of that
affair."
The two were still closeted when a
second visitor called and was told that
his excellency could not be disturbed.
The second visitor, however, was so in-
sistent that the secretary finally con-
sented to take In the Card. After a
glance at it bis chief ordered admis-
sion.
The door opened and Captain Cal-
lomb entered.
He was now in civilian clothes,
with portentous news written on his
face. He paused in annoyance at the
sight of a second figure Btanding with
back turned at the window. Then
Samson wheeled and the two men rec-
ognized each other. They had met be-
fore only when one was in olive drab;
the other in Jeans and butternut. At
recognition Callomb's face fell and
grew troubled.
"You here, South!" he exclaimed.
"I thought you promised me that I
shouldn't find you. God knows 1 didn't
want to meet you."
"Nor 1 you," Samson spoke slowly.
"I supposed you'd be raking the hills."
Neither of them was for the moment
paying the least attention to the gov-
ernor, who stood quietly looking on.
"I sent Merriweather out there,"
explained Callomb, Impatiently. "I
wanted to come here before It
was too late. God knows. South,
I wouldn't have had this meet-
ing occur for anything under heaven.
It leaves me no choice. You are
indicted on two counts, each charg-
ing you with murder." The officer took
a step toward the center of the room.
HIb face was weary, and his eyes wore
the deep disgust and fatigue that come
from the necessity of performing a
hard duty.
"You are under arrest," he added
quietly, but his composure broke as he
stormed. "Now, by God, I've got to
take you back and let them murder
you, and you're the man who might
have been useful to the state."
sewlon, Callomb opened the bulky vol-
CHAPTER XVI.
The governor had been more Influ-
enced by watching the two as they
talked than by what he had heard.
"It seems to me, gentleman," he sug-
gested quietly, "that you are both over-
looking my presence." He turned to
Callomb.
"Your coming, Sid, unless It was pre-
arranged between the two of you
(which, since I know you, I know was
not the case) has shed more light on
this matter than the testimony of a
dozen witnesses. After all, I'm still
the governor."
The militiaman seemed to have for-
gotten the existence of his distin-
guished kinsman, and, at the voice, his
eyes came away from the face of the
man he had not wanted to capture, and
he shook his head.
"You are merely the head of the ex-
ecutive branch," he Baid. "You are as
helpless here as 1 am. Neither of us
can interfere with the judicial gentry,
though we may know that they stink
to high heaven with the stench of
blood. After a conviction, you can
pardon, but a pardon won't help the
dead. I don't see that you can do
much of anything, Crit."
"I don't know yet what I can do, but
I can tell you I'm going to do some-
thing," said the governor. "You can
just begin watching me. In the mean-
time, I believe I am commander-in-
chief of the state troops."
"And I am captain of 'F* company,
but all 1 can do Is to obey the orders
of a bunch of Borgias."
"As your superior officer," smiled
the governor, "I can give you orders.
I'm going to give you one now. Mr.
South has applied to me for a pardon
in advance of trial. Technically, I have
the power to grant that request. Moral-
ly, I doubt my right. Certainly, I shall
not do it without a very thorough Bitt-
ing of evidence and grave considera-
tion of the necessities of the case—
as well as the danger of the precedent.
However, I am considering it, and for
the present you will parole your pris-
oner in my custody. Mr. South, you
will not leave Frankfort without my
permission. You will take every pre-
caution to conceal your actual Identity.
You will treat as utterly confidential
all that has transpired here—and,
above all, you will not let newspaper
men discover you. Those are my or-
ders. Report here tomorrow after-
noon, and remember that you are my
prisoner."
Samson bowed and left the two cou-
sins together, where shortly they were
joined by the attorney general. That
evening, the three dined at the execu-
tive mansion, and sat until midnight
in the governor's private office, still
deep in discussion. During the long
ume of the Kentucky statutes, and laid
his finger on section 2673.
"There's the rub," he protested, read-
ing aloud: '"The military shall be at
all times, and in all cases, in strict
subordination to the civil power.'"
The governor glanced down to the
next paragraph and read in part:
" 'The governor may direct the com-
manding officer of the military force
to report to any one of the following-
named officers of the district in which
the said force is employed: Mayor of
a city, sheriff, jailer or marshal.'"
"Which list," stormed Callomb, "is
the honor roll of the assassins."
"At all events"—the governor had
derived from Callomb much informa-
tion as to Samson South which the
mountaineer himself had modestly
withheld—"South gets his pardon.
That is only a step. I wish I could
make him satrap over his province,
and provide him with troops to rule it.
Unfortunately, our form of govern-
ment has Its drawbacks."
"It might be possible," ventured the
attorney general, "to impeach the
sheriff, and appoint this or some other
suitable man to fill the vacancy until
the next election."
"The legislature doesn't meet until
next winter," objected Callomb. "There
is one chance. The sheriff down there
is a sick man. Let us hope he may
die."
One day, the Hixon conclave met in
the room over Hollman's Mammoth
Department store, and with much pro-
fanity read a communication from
Frankfort, announcing the pardon of
Samson South. In that episode, they
foresaw the beginning of the end for
their dynasty. The outside world was
looking on, and their regime could not
survive the spotlight of law-loving
scrutiny.
"The fust thing," declared Judge
Hollman, curtly, "is to get rid of these
damned Boldiers. We'll attend to our
own business later, and we don't want
them watchln' us. Just now, we want
to lie mighty quiet for a spell—tee-
totally quiet until I pass the word."
Samson had won back the confi-
dence of hie tribe, and enlisted the
faith of the state administration. He
had been authorized to organize a
local militia company, and to drill
them, provided he could stand answer-
able for their conduct. The younger
Souths took gleefully to that idea. The
mountain boy makes a good soldier,
once he has grasped the idea of dis-
cipline. For ten weeks, they drilled
daily in squads and weekly in platoons.
Then, the fortuitous came to pass.
Sheriff Forbin died, leaving behind him
an unexpired term of two years, and
Samson was summoned hastily to
Frankfort. He returned, bearing his
commission as high sheriff, though,
when the news reached Hixon, there
were few men who envied him his
post, and none who cared to bet that
he would live to take his oath of office.
That August court day was a mem-
orable one in Hixon. Samson South
was coming to town to take up his
duties. Every one recognized it as the
day of final issue, and one that could
hardly pass without bloodshed. The
Hollmans, Btanding in their last
trench, saw only the blunt question of
Hollman-South supremacy. For years,
the feud had flared and slept and
broken again into eruptions, but never
before had a South sought to throw
his outposts of power across the wa-
ters of Crippleshin, and into the coun-
ty seat. That the present South came
bearing commission as an officer of
the law only made his effrontery the
more unendurable.
Samson had not called for outside
troops. The drilling and disciplining
of his own company had progressed in
silence along the waters of Misery.
They were a slouching, unmllitary
band of uniformed vagabonds, but they
were longing to fight, and Callomb had
been with them, tirelessly whipping
them into rudimentary shape. After
all, they were as much partisans as
they had been before they were issued
state rifles. The battle, if it came,
would be as factional as the fight of 25
years ago, when the Hollmans held
the store and the Souths the court-
house. But back of all that lay one es-
sential difference, and It was this dif-
ference that had urged the governor
to stretch the forms of law and put
such dangerous power Into the hands
of one man. That difference was the
man himself. He was to take drastic
steps, but he was to take them under
the forms of law, and the state execu-
tive believed that, having gone through
worse to better, he would maintain the
improved condition.
Early that morning, men began to
assemble along the streets of Hixon;
and to congregate into sullen clumps
with set faces that denoted a grim,
unsmiling determination. Not only the
Hollmans from the town and immedi-
ate neighborhood were there, but their
shaggier, fiercer brethren from remote
creeks and covers, who came only at
urgent call, and did not come without
intent of vindicating their presence.
Old Jake Hollman, from "over yon" on
the headwaters of Dryhole creek,
brought his son and fourteen year-old
grandson, and all of them carried Win-
chesters. Long before the hour for
the courthouse bell to sound the call
which would bring matters to a crisis,
women disappeared from the streets,
and front shutters and doors closed
themselves. At last, the Souths began
to ride in by half-dozens, and to hitch
their horses at the racks, they also
fell into groups well apart. The two
factions eyed each other somberly,
sometimes nodding or exchanging
greetings, for the time had not yet
come to fight. Slowly, however, the
Hollmans began centering about the
j courthouse. They swarmed in the
yard, and entered the empty Jail, and
overran the halls aud offices of the
building itself. The Souths, now com-
ing in a solid stream, flowed with
equal unanimity to McEwer's hotel,
near the square, and disappeared in-
side. Besides their rifles, they carried
saddlebags, but not one of the uni-
forms which some of these bags con-
tained, nor one of the cartridge belts,
had yet been exposed to view.
Stores opened, but only for a desul-
tory pretense of business. Horsemen
led their mounts away from the more
public racks, and tethered them to
back fences and willow branches in
the shelter of the river banks, where
stray bullets would not find them.
The dawn that morning had still
been gray when Samson South and
Captain Callomb had passed the Mil-
ler cabin. Callomb had ridden slowly
on around the turn of the road, and
waited a quarter of a mile away. He
was to command the militia that day,
if the high sheriff should call upon
him. Samson went in and knocked,
and instantly to the cabin door came
Sally's slender, fluttering figure. She
put both arms about him, and her eyes,
as she looked into his face, were terri-
fied, but tearless.
"I'm frightened, Samson," she whis-
pered. "God knows I'm going to be
praying all this day."
"Sally," he said, softly, "I'm coming
back to you—but, if I don't"—he held
her very close—"Uncle Spicer has my
will. The farm Is full of coal, and
days are coming when roads will take
It out, and every ridge will glow with
coke furnaceB. That farm will make
you rich, if we win today's fight."
"Don't!" she cried, with a sudden
gasp. "Don't talk like that."
"I must," he said, gently. "I want
you to make me a promise, Sally."
"It's made," she declared.
"If by any chance I should not come
back, 1 want you to hold Uncle Spicer
and old Wile McCager to their pledge.
They must not privately avenge me.
They must still stand for the law. I
want you, and this is most important
of all, to leave these mountains—"
Her hands tightened on his shoulder.
"Not that, Samson," she pleaded;
"not these mountains where we've
been together."
"You promised. I want you to go to
the Lescotts in New York. In a year,
He Held Her Very Close.
you can come back—if you want to;
but you must promise that."
"I promise," she reluctantly yielded.
It was half-past nine o'clock when
Samson South and Sidney Callomb
rode side by side into Hixon froii the
east. A dozen of the older Souths,
who had not become soldiers, met
them there, and, with no word, sepa-
rated to close about them In a circle of
protection. As Callomb's eyes swept
the almost deserted streets, so silent
that the strident switching of a freight
train could be heard down at the edge
of town, he shook his head. As he met
the sullen glances of the gathering in
the courthouse yard, he turned to Sam-
son.
"They'll fight," he said, briefly.
Samson nodded.
"I don't understand the method," de-
murred the officer, with perplexity.
"Why don't they shoot you at once.
What are they waiting for?"
"They want to see," Samson assured
him, "what tack I mean to take. They
want to let the thing play itself out.
They're inquisitive—and they're cau-
tious, because now they are bucking
the state and the world."
Samson with his escort rode up to
the courthouse door and dismounted.
He was for the moment unarmed and
his men walked on each side of him,
while the onlooking Hollmans stood
back in surly silence to let him pass.
In the office of the county judge Sam-
son said briefly:
"I want to get my deputies sworn
In."
"We've got plenty of deputy sher-
iffs," was the quietly Insolent rejoin-
der.
"Not now—we haven't any." Sam-
son's voice was sharply incisive. "I'll
name my own assistants."
"What's the matter with these
boys?" The county judge waved his
hand toward two hold-over deputies.
"They're fired."
The country Judge laughed.
"Well, I reckon I can't attend to that
right now."
"Then you refuse?"
"Mebby you might call it that."
Sampson leaned on the judge's table
and rapped sharply with his knuckles
His handful of men stood close and
Callomb ca ght his breath in the
hea-y air of storm-freighted suspense
The Hollman partisans filled the rooai
and others were crowding to the doors.
"I'm high sheriff of this county now,"
said Samson, sharply. "You are coun-
ty judge. Do we co-operate—or fight?"
"I reckon," drawled the other, "that's
a matter we'll work out as we goes
along. Depends on how obedient ye
air."
"I'm responsible for the peace and
quiet of this'county," continued Sam-
son. "We're going to have peace and
quiet"
The judge looked about him. The in-
dications did not appear to him indica-
tive of peace and quiet.
"Air we?" he inquired.
"I'm coming b k here In a half
hour," Bald the new sheriff. "This is
an unlawful and armed assembly.
When I get back I want to find the
courthouse occupied only by unarmed
citizens who have business here."
"When ye comes back," suggested
the county Judge, "I'd advise that ye
resigns yore job. A half-hour is about
e8 long as ye ought ter try ter hold
hit."
Samson turned and walked through
the Bcowling crowd to the courthouas
steps.
"Gentleme i," he said, In a clear, far-
carrying voice, "there is no need of an
armed congregation at this court-
house. I call on you in the name of
the law to lay aside your arms or scat-
ter."
There was murmur which for an in-
stant threatened to become a roar, but
trailed into a chorus of derisive laugh-
ter.
Samson went to the hotel, accompa-
nied by Callomb. A half-hour later the
two were back at the courthouse with
a half-dozen companions. The yard
was empty. Samson carried his fath-
er's rifle. In that half-hour a telegram,
prepared in advance, had flashed to
Frankfort.
"Mob holds courthouse — need
troops."
And a reply had flashed back:
"Use local company—Callomb com-
manding" So that form of law was
met.
The courthouse doors were closed
and Its windows barricaded. The place
was no longer a judicial building. It
was a fortress. As Samson's party
paused at the gate a warning voice
called:
"Don't come no nigher!"
The body-guard began dropping
back to shelter.
"1 demand admission to the court*
house to make arrefcts," shouted the
new sheriff. In answer a spattering of
rifle reports came from the jail win-
dows. Two of the Souths fell. At a
word from Samson Callomb left on a
run for the hotel. The sheriff himself
took his position in a small store
across the street, which he reached un-
hurt under a desultory 3re.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
NATURAL MEANS OF DEFENSE
Possibility That Another Generation
of Fighters May Utilize Their
Whiskers.
Here is a war comment from George
W. Monroe, the comedian:
The Russian army has one advan-
tage over all other armies, and that is
whiskers. It has an entanglement of
whiskers that nothing can penetrate—
not even lyddite, shrapnel or slugs. A
Russian soldier's whiskers are not the
flossy kind that toss around with
every passing gale. They are so dura-
ble that when he falls on them he does
not even bend them; he drives them
into the ground. The only time a Rus-
sian soldier is in danger is when he
turns the back of his head to the en-
emy. The other armies may have the
best tactics, armament, discipline,
spirit and patriotism, but the Russian
army has the chilled-steel whiskers.
The most difficult job a Red Cross
nurse has to perform, after the Rus-
sian army has finished an engage-
ment, 1b to comb the bullets and
shells out of the soldiers' whiskers.
Fifty years from now, when the next
great war is fought, it will not be a
question of rapid-firing, long-rau^e
guns; it will be a question of whis-
kers. The world will ask which army
has the best whiskers. Whiskers will
decide the battle. Nations wil) no
longer waste money in buying big
guns and testing them. They will
grow whiskers for national defense
and they will test an army's efficiency
by drawing up a company on the
parade grounds and allowing a husky
coal heaver to go down the line and
hit each soldier in the face with an
ax. Whiskers that won't make the ax
bounce will be sent to the rear as un-
fit for the firing line.
Historic Fainting Spell.
Prince Oscar, the kaiser's fifth son,
who has just returned to duty with the
German army, left the fighting line
after an engagement In which he saw
the officers about him slaughtered by
Turcos and himself collapsed from
what has been pronounced a severe at-
tack of heart trouble. In the Mexican
war Brig. Jen. Franklin Pierce of New
Hampshire fainted while in action
from the pair of an injury sustained
when his horse fell on hira. This In-
cident—this unmanly fainting at a
time when other people were getting
killed—wa3 uted unmercifully to make
Pierce a target for ridicule In later
years when ho ran for the presidency.
—Hartford Times.
Left the City Man Thinking.
A city man once had occasion to
visit a farmer on business, and re-
mained for dinner. The piece de re-
sistance was literally a very tough
chicken. Those at table, including
the farmer's two young sons, strug-
gled unsuccessfully to make some im-
pression upon their respective help
lugs, when Sam turned to his brother
"Tom," he said softly, "I wish old
Dick hadn't a-died. Don't you?"
PROPERLY BAKED HAM
80MEWHAT LENGTHY PROCE3S,
BUT WORTH WHILE.
Expert Gives Explicit Directions for
Preparation of Dainty—May Be
Soaked in Claret or Cider, as
la Preferred.
An old ham is best, but any thor*
oughly smoked, sound ham w-ill do^
writes Martha McCulloch Williams.
Scrape it all over with i blunt-edge.'
knife, then sprinkle well with a good
washing powder and scrub in teplti wa<-
ter with a ooarse cloth. Wring the
cloth dry and wipe the ham, then
rinse it in clear cold water and put if
to soak over night. The next morn-
ing scrape it afresh if any superfluous
matter has been loosened, rinse, and
put it, skin side down, to cook in cold
water, having a rack or plate in the
bottom of the boiler to prevent scorch*
ing. Bring the ham to a brisk boll,
then throw in a pint of cold water
and let It stand two or three minutes;
skim off the scum, then throw into the
pot a dozen whole cloves, as many
allspice and black peppercorns, a
small pod of red pepper, slit length-
wise, and a blade of mace. Watch
closely, and when boiling begins lessen
the heat so that there will be bare
simmering. The water must stand
two inches above the meat—fill the
boiler up as it wastes away. Keep on
the lid, but loosely, and let the ham
simmer until it is very tender—tha
time depends upon the age, weight
and hardness of the ham. When tha
haunch bone showt, a little through
the meat the ham is likely to be done.
Let It cool in the water in which it
was boiled, take it out, drain well and
trim off the rusty fat from the edges,
and a little of the smo'Ke darkened
fiesn underneath. (The hock had bet-
ter be sawed off before boiling, but if
that has not been done, loose the pro-
jecting bones and cut to neat
end.) Skin carefully. hen stick
all over the fat portion whole cloves
in a lozenge pattern, -fter which'
dust thickly with black pepper and
paprika, sprinkle lightly with soft
sugar, and fit the ham into a deep
agate or earthenware vessel. Pour
in sound claret or sweet cider and
let it soak six hours. Then put on
a low rack in in agate pan, pour the
soaking liquor around and bake very
slowly from one to two hours, ac-
cording to size. Baste with the liquor
In the pan two or three times each
half hour; as the liquor evaporates
add either cold water or more wine or
cider. If the ham is very fat cool
the pan after taking it up, and re-
move most of the grease on top; then
add a dash of boiling water, a light
seasoning of herbs and ten drops of
onion juice; cook for three minutes,
itlrring constantly, and then pour into
your gravy boat. Pass with the ham;
elBe use the savor stews and minces.
It is, perhaps, worth while to add
that in judging a ham, dry, black-green
mold upon the flesh side is ranked by
epicures the hallmark of excellence,
highly desirable.
To approximate fairly the famous
French concoction, Jambon au madere,
you should pour the boiling water off
the ham while it Is still hot, after
the ham is done, then let it simmer
for an hour in enough of either claret
or cider to float it, turning the hamt
from time to time and letting It coot
In the liquor.
Some Oyster Hints.
All styles of panned, creamed or
stewed oyBters should be cooked over
an open fire or live steam, because
they should start to cook the moment
the heat strikes the pan or chafing
dish and continue at a forced rate un-
til finished.
The cooking of oysters can be great-
ly improved by the use of the chafing
dish instead of the saucepan in con-
nection with the recipes where th«
latter is mentioned.
Oysters most easily secured and
mostly desired are Saddle Rocks,
Rocks, Rockaways, Lynn Haven Bays,
Shrewsburys, Blue Points, Cotuits,
Lynnhavens, C pe Cods, Buzzards
Bay, Norfolk, Cape May Salts, Cherry
Stones, Chincoteagues and Oak
Creeks.
Chocolate Pancakes.
This makes a delicious dessert for
luncheon and one that is quickly pre-
pared: Mix together two eggs, yolks
and whites, with two heaping table-
Bpoonfuls of Bweetened chocolate that
has been grated (if unsweetened brand
is used, then the mixture must be
sweetened to taste), half cupful of
milk, half cupful of flour. Beat all to-
gether well. Fry like ordinary pan-
cakes, brown on both sides and roll
them, lay on a hot platter, sprinkla
with powdered sugar and serve lmme-
liately.
Tagging the Piece Bag.
Here is a sensible way of tagging
the contents of a piece bag: On the
outside of the bag fasten the largest
procurable safety pin. When dress-
making is over attach samples to thiB
pin of every remnant that goes into
the bag. A great amount of time and
patience is saved by this simple de-
vice, for one can see at a glance Just
what the bag contains.—Racine Jour-
nal.
Cream Cheese Tarts.
Make tart shells of pastry, and fill
them with a cream cheese, half a cup-
ful of cream, a cupful of currants,
•bree eggs beaten well and two table-*
poonfuls of sugar. Bake for about
i a If an hour.
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Burke, J. J. The Daily Transcript (Norman, Okla.), Vol. 2, No. 184, Ed. 1 Monday, February 15, 1915, newspaper, February 15, 1915; (https://gateway.okhistory.org/ark:/67531/metadc112901/m1/2/: accessed April 27, 2024), The Gateway to Oklahoma History, https://gateway.okhistory.org; crediting Oklahoma Historical Society.