The Manchester Journal. (Manchester, Okla. Terr.), Vol. 11, No. 24, Ed. 1 Friday, November 20, 1903 Page: 3 of 8
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farad for alas month* with supprtMed
Rf 5f°kJ»4 ild*» and I would boro
blinding headaoha*. If/ Umbo would
j™* »PMl I would toel so weak I
ooald not itnnd up. I naturally toll
dUoonraged (or I reomod to be beyond
Oio help o( physicians, bat Wine of
Oerdut came nan God-iend to me. I
telt n change for the better within •
week. After nineteen daya treatment
I menstruated without suffering the
agoniea 1 uinally did and soon became
rogular and without pain. Wine of
Oardutia limply wonderful and 1 wlah
that ail suffering women know of ita
TEe HERD'S GRASS
By Charles Adams.
Treasurer, Portland Ecoaomlo League
Periodical headaches tell of fe-
male weakness. Wine of Cardui
cures permanently nineteen out of
every twenty cases of irregular
menses, bearing down pains or
any female weakness. If you are
discouraged and doctors have
failed, that is the best reason in
the world you should try Wine of
Cardui now. Remember that
headaches mean female weakness.
Secure a $1.00 bottle of Wine of
A Private opinion.
Mrs. Hornihand—"I see hyer where
they've went an’ formed a boys’ bri-
Farmer Hornihand—-‘‘Fer goodness
sakes, don’t let our boy Joe see that
Mrs. Hornihand—“Why, Silas?”
Farmer Hornihand—"He's got too
much of a leanin’ toward military life
now, seein’ that he’s been soldierin’
on that job o’ corn cuttin’ fer th’ last
The Burglar Woman.
“Silence or you're a dead man!” the
burglar hissed, with revolver leveled
at the man's head.
“Madam,” whispered the man,
■divining the burglar’s sex, “your
mask is not on straight.”
“Heavens!” she exclaimed. And as
she tried to adjust it. thus taking her
off her guard, sprang upon her and
disarmed her.—Philadelphia Press.
“I’m afraid there is a great deal of
dishonesty la some of these trusts,”
said Senator Sorghum, sadly.
“But you have always defended the
trusts!” exclaimed the friend.
“Yes. Of course you expect a trust
to take advantage of the public, but
when the men who organize the deal
get to taking advantage of one an-
Anticipation Vs. Experience.
Old Gentleman—I)o you think, sir,
that you are able to support my daugh-
ter without continually hovering on
the verge of bankruptcy?
Suitor—Oh, yes, sir; I am sure I
Old Gentleman—Well, that's more
than I can do. Take her and be hap-
py—New York Weekly.
“Where's your wife going in such a
“She's going into the shopping dis-
trict to contract about $50 worth of
"Did she hill you so:”
“No, but I foolishly told her this
morning that I had that much money
left in the bank."
Exchange of Compliments.
Kitty (to Bertha in her new frock)
—Why, darling, how becoming your
gown is! Absolutely, anyone would
think it quite new!
Bertha—So kind of you to say so!
And yours, dear, looks every bit as
well as it did years ago.—Boston
“The child is father to the man,”
remarked the proverb dispenser.
“Don't you believe it,” replied the
observer of human nature. ' The
child howls when it is empty, and ihe
man howls when he is full.”
At the Bachelors’ Club.
“Milton's wife left him, didn't she?”
“That's the story.”
“Did he write anything after that
“Oh, yes—‘Paradise Regained.' ”
Wiseman—“I thought you said h«
was very rich. Why, I heard him
pitying the poor to-day.”
Jenkins—“Well, doesn't a rich man
ever pity the poor?"
Wiseman—“Not If he’s very rich:
then he envies the poor.”
“Mlstah Plnkley,” said Miss Miami
Brown, “you sings jes like you was a
“ Deed, Miss Miami,” waa the re-
joinder. “if 1 was a bird 1 reckon I
wouldn't be able to sing. 1*4 be a
There Isn t any fun in kissing wwen
the wires are burned out.
Little Willie declares that the "no
that won't conn oft” U the rattan.
The barber who committed suicide
th bay ru:x certainly stuck to his
IfS )(S]I T was In haying time, and
1—1—“ the weuther was so full'
that we bad mowed nil the
grass in the ’’soulli field."
_ We hatl doubts about cut
tmg down so much, for there were
only three of us to take care of it; but
the weather had cleared off bright and
windy that morning, ufter a thunder
shower In Hie night.
"There are pretty sure to be three or
four days of good, hard weather now,”
said Napoleon, or “Foley," us we called
him. “Let's down with it!”
And we did. There were six acres
of it, nil stout grass, following clover
the summer before; two tons and a
half to tiie acre of long stalked herd's
gruss, which, when dry and ready to
go into the barn. Is about ns stiff and
hard to pitch and handle as so much
wire. Any country boy who has' ever
“mowed nwny" knows what such grass
is when it is pitched off the cart to
him In big forkfuls.
The sun shone hot all that first day,
and heavy ns the grnss was it "made"
well. We raked it into windrows with
the horse rake during the afternoon.
Father was nwny in the north part
of the State, "cruising” for pine and
spruce, in the employ of a lumber
company, and Napoleon and I had tile
haying to do, with the assistance of
one bird man.
The next morning, as soon as the
dew was off, we turned the windrows.
There were about twenty rack-loads
of the hay. We planned to haul in
ten loads that second day and ten the
Seven or eight tons of hay, as every-
one knows, nrp about as much as three
men ought to handle in one afternoon.
It has all to be pitched over twice
with forks and trodden down in the
haymow; and this latter part of the
work, in the case of coarse herd’s
grass, is the worst, for the tramping
has to be done in a hot, close barn,
amid choking dust.
Until noon of ihe second day, when
we began hauling, the weather was
fair; but immediately after 12 o’clock
a change was apparent. A gray haze
appeared in the south, soon followed
by small shreds of cloud, which in-
creased in size. In Maine we knew
those signs only too well during the
warm season. Such southern rains
come on suddenly.
“It will pour by 5 o’clock,” said Na-
poleon. “And all this bay out! What's
to be done.
The only tiling we could do was to
swallow a hasty luncheon and begin
hauling as fast as possible.
We sent word of our plight to our
next neighbors, the Whitcombs, and
as they had finished their haying a day
or two previously, they kindly sent
over their two hired men. with hay
rack and ox team, to help ns. •
We had been saving what we called
the “west bay” of the barn in which
to put this herd's grass. The usual
cross girders had been taken out of
this bay. making one long haymow of
It, fifty feet by twenty, ami we knew
that the crop in the south field would
fill it to.the “great bramV’ of the barn,
eighteen or twenty feet above the
When we drove in with the first load
the hired man started to pitch it off
into the bay, and I undertook to stow
It. Napoleon had remained out in the
field to roll the windrow np into "tum-
bles.” ready to be pitched upon the
cart as soon as it returned from the
The hired man was a large, strong
fellow. At every forkful he flung off
about n hundred-weight of that coarse,
snarled hay, and I soon found that I
was going to have quite os raucji work
as I could manage, for I had to pull the
hay back Into the long, deep bay,
tread it down in the dust and heat,
and return to the front In time to take
the next tough, snarly forkfuls as they
came rolling down off the cart. 1 could
not do it; no one could. My weight,
Indeed, was not sufficient to tread the
coarse stuff down.
This first load was no sooner pitched
off and the cart backed out than In
drove the Whitcomb rack, plied high
with another load. One of the men
with this team had remained in the
field, rolling up tumbles; the driver
was ready to throw off'the hay. and
tney all seemed to think that 1 could
take care of it.
Finding myself worsted. I ran into
the house to see if I could not get some
of the women to help me tread the
hay down, but they hnd all gone
As I ran back to the barn, however,
I happened to see in the lane two three-
yenr-old colts that we were pasturing
for Grandfather Adams. They were
handsome brown Morgan colts, of
which ‘the old gentleman was very
fond^ for they were well matched, and
he expected to exhibit them as a trot-
'ting pair at the State fair. He was
out nearly every day looking at his
pets, giving them salt or titbits, and
seeing to it that we kept the watering
trough in the lane pumped full of wa-
ter. He also made ua put brass bails
on the horns of ail the young cattle,
for fear they would hook those colts.
It came into my mind that I might
make them tread that hay down In the
mow. My need of aid was pressing.
I ran out to the lane and called the
colts through the yard Into the barn,
then led them across the barn floor
and urged them into the mow. The
hay was just about level with the
barn floor when I drove <hem In. and
I put up a board to keep them from
coming out. The Whitcomb load was
half off by this time; bnt I pulled a
part ot it back, and then, bringing a
horsewhip from the wagon house,
ran those colts up and down the mow.
They were fine, plump, heavy colts,
und the way they tramped that herd‘s
gross down was a Joy to behold.
Tbo Whitcomb cart had no sooner
backed out of the barn floor than In
came our cart with ita second load.
Napoleon hud loaded it bustlly, for
the sky was darkening.
"Pitch it off! Roll it off!" I exclaimed
to the hired man. “I’ll take enro of
it I I’ll stow it now ns fast hs all of
you can bring It to me!"
I would wait till I had bnif a rock
load of it rolled back and distributed
about, a little; thou I would get up on
the front girders with the horsewhip
and send those colts bnck and forth,
from one end of the long bay to tlie
other. Klght feet are much better
than two for treading down hay, and
the difference between HD pounds of
boys and 1000 pounds of colt was nt
once apparent. It was a great scheme!
Meanwhile the loads came in hurry
nud haste. One was no sooner pitched
off to me than another was ready.
We were nil working as swiftly ns pos-
sible. But while throwing off the
eighth load our hired man suddenly
stopped, leaned on his fork, and began
“Say,” he drawled, “I s'pose you
see that tills haymow la fillin' up
pretty fast. It is up to the front beams
now. ’Tain't any o' my business, but
how are you goin’ to git the colts down
off’n the mow?"
In thq heat and hurry of the emer-
gency 1 hud not thought of that, and
they were being elevnlcd higher nnd
higher with every load. In fact, they
were up nine or ten feet above the
barn floor already; too high for them
to jump down without breaking their
The hired man stood nnd laughed.
Those colts'll be up In the roof of the
barn when this field of hay is in,
When he drove out to the fleld be
told Napoleon of the fix I was getting
into with the colts, and Poley came
running in to see about it.
“That’s a pretty go!” he exclaimed.
What will Grandpa Adams say? I
don't think you ought to have taken
those colts for such a job. The dust
is making them cough.’’
Well, they might just as well be
on the great beams as where they
are,” said I. "Now they are up here, I
am going to keep them at it till this
hay is In.”
There'll bo the mischief to pay if
grandpa finds it out!” replied Napo-
leon. He hurried back to the field,
however, for the cart was waiting.
I felt not a little anxious about
the situation; but the loads were
coming think and fast. As I could
could not get the colts down, I kept
them treading, nud getting higher with
every load. The rain did not begin
until nearly five o'clock, and we hauled
in eighteen big loads of that herd’s
grass, there were only about two loads
that became too wet to get in.
But those eighteen loads had filled
that haymow quite up to the great
beams of the barn. As the hired man
had anticipated, the colts were up in
tlie top of that high bam with hardly
room to stand under the roof. Truth
to say, too, they were hot and sweaty.
The men from Mr. Whitcomb’s went
off home, laughing over it; as for
Napoleon and me. the more we studied
tlie problem of getting the colts down,
the more difficult it looked. We set
long ladder and carried up two
buckets of water to them, and let them
stand In the hay and eat what they
wanted. In fact, we were tired out
with our hard afternoon's work, and
there were the cows to milk, nnd all
the barn chores to do. It was Satur-
day night and our hired man went
While we were milking we heard
Grandpa Adams calling the colts. It
wns now raining bard, and he had
come over to sec that they had
opportunity to get under the barn
“Now what shall we tell him?”
said Napoleon, anxiously.
Of course I ought to have gone and
confessed. I knew it, but I did not
want to have him find out what I had
done. It disturbed me a good deal
to hear the old gentleman out in the
rain calling, "Nobby, nobby, nobby!”
nnd “Cojack, cojack, cojack:’ up and
down the pasture but I kept quiet, and
when nt last he came back to the
barn nnd looked for us boys, to ask
about the colts, Napoleon and I kept
out of sight.
Grandfather nt last decided that
they must have tnkeu shelter In the
woods at the far side of the pasture,
as they sometimes did, and although
still somewhat disappointed by their
non-appearance, he went home without
mnktng any further search.
Day had no sooner broken next morn-
ing than Napoleon and I were at me
barn. We knew that we' must get
those colts down in some way even
if it were Sunday. It was realty work
of necessity, but how to manage it
nnd not injure the animals was some-
thing of a problem.
We went quietly to Mr. Whlteomb’B,
nnd called out his two hired men, and
held a conference. We hit upon a
scheme nud to carry it ont we were
obliged to go to a sawmill half a mile
distant and bring four sticks of timber,
two by eight inches, and each twenty-
four feet in length.
These we set np aslant close to-
gether, reaching from the barn floor
to the top of the haymow, and form-
ing a kind of a chute. Taking halters
and bits of rope, three of us then
climbed on the mow, and by pushing
against their sides suddenly as they
stood in the snarl; hay, threw down
first one, then the other, of the colts,
and tied their legs securely, to prevent
them from struggling. Then we
dragged them forward to the top of
While we were thus employed Na-
poleon had gone to bring the long.
large rope from a set of pulley blocka,
and also an old buffalo skin. Having
wrapped the skin round one of the colts
to prevent Injury to its sides, we then
I"t the animal slide down tbo chute,
steadying It with the large rope passed
around its body.
We were fortunate to get both of
them clown without accident, nnd we
then untied their legs and turned them
The colts were In the pasture, feed-
ing as If nothing hnd happened, when
Grandfather Adams came nt eight
o’clock, lie looked them all over, but
could not find n scratch or ci mark on
cither of them. They did cough a little
for several days nfterward, but ho did
not chance to hear or notice Unit,
That winter, however, In December,
when father began to take the hay out
of the mow, he hnd some difficulty.
Napoleon and I were from homo at
the time, teaching district schools
several miles away, but he wrote to
“I should like to know how you two
boys stowed that herd’s grass hay Inst
summer, and what you did to it; you
must havo URed a pile driver, I have
sent for a grip fork, nnd I want you
both to come home Saturday and help
me pull out two or three tons of it
with a tackle and block.”—Youth's
MIRROR ON THE HAT BRIM.
Form of “Bnuj-Body" by Which the
Wearer May See Behind Him.
In nil the larger cities It Is a com-
mon thing to see a mirror fixed on the
front of a house so that tlie occupants
may sit Inside and enjoy the view up
and down the street without being ob-
served and without cultivating the
somewhat ungainly habit of leaning
out tlie window. These devices have
acquired the popular name of “busy-
bodies,” but to the trade they are
known ns window mirrors, which is
A very similar device has been re-
cently designed to be worn on the
brim of a hat or the visor of a cap
in order that the wearer may enjoy a
constant view of what is transpiring
in his roar, without the necessity of
constantly turning his head. It is said
to be a very desirable piece of ap-
paratus for automobilists, bicyclists,
vehicles ns well as pedestrians, ns It
enables the wearer to keep In constant
knowledge of the position of objects
behind him, and yet without taking
his attention from what is going on in
front of him.
The device is fastened to the hat
brim or cap visor by means of a couple
of screws, nnd the mirror is designed
to rock on its pivot so that it can be
fastened at any angle to suit the cir-
cumstances under which it is worn. It
is placed a little to one side of the cen-
tre of the hat brim, which is the best
point for obtaining the desired sweep
of the rear view.
Tlie Soup and Water.
The Countess of Shaftesbury, who
was Sir Thomas Liptou's guest at the
yacht races, is a descendant of a noted
English clergyman. Lady Shaftesbury
told an interesting story of this cler-
gyman to a woman reporter one after-
noon in New York.
“My great uncle,” she said, “had two
peculiarities. One was an ungovern-
able temper; the other a curiously
ratiocinative habit of mind, manifest-
ed by a trick he had of beginning
everything he said with the words,
‘Here there is a distinction.’
At a dinner party one evening my
great-uncle overheard his host telling
a beautiful young lady of his trick of
saying always, ‘Here I make a dis-
tinction.’ The host said he would
amuse the young lady by making my
great-uncle say, ‘Here I make a dis-
tinction,' all through the evening.
“Of course at this my great-uncle's
blood boiled. His naturally violent
temper was redoubled. He got ready
for his host. The latter, as soon as
the soup came on, winked at the young
girl. Then he said to my distinguished
“ You are a clergyman; tell me if it
is lawful to baptize with soup.’
“My great-uncle smiled grimly.
Here,’ he said, ‘I make a distinction.’
At that everybody roared. He paused
till they were quiet. Then he went on:
“ ‘You ask me if it is lawful to bap-
tize with soup. I answer. In soup In
general, no; but in soup like yours, yes;
for between this soup and water there
is not the slightest difference.’
“Then my great-uncle winked at the
pretty youug girl, and she smiled at
him with approoation. That night he
was teased no more.”
Older Than Solomon** Temple.
It is not generally realized that when
Solomon erected his temple a thou-
sand years before Christ Americans
in Peru were building their tremen-
dous “structures to the glory of a cre-
ator god." Yet this is the conclusion
toward which our archaeological re-
seahhes in South America now point
Professor Max Uhle, of the University
of California, writes iu Harper's Mag-
azine for October of the slow but ef-
fective processes by which these rec-
ords have been unearthed, revealing
city burled beneath city, as each ne.v
period of culture succeeded its prede-
cessor. The article is Illustrated by
curious pictures of early pottery and
of significant ruins.
Faria' Wonderful Clock.
The Grand Palais in Pari* possesses
a wonderful clock, which was shown
In the Paris exhibition of 1855. It was
the work of Collin, and has Jnst been
overhauled. It is claimed for this
chef d'oeuvre, says the Debats, that it
does not vary more than the hundredth
part of a second in a year. It is four
and a half meters in height and indi-
cates the time in the twelve chief cities
of the world, each city having ita owu
dial. The clock not only marks the
year, month and day of the week, bnt
its pendnlum forms a barometer of
MY LOST YOUTH.
Often I think of the beautiful town
That lx xeatod by the sea;
Often In thought go up and down
The pleasant xtrcelH of that denr old town.
And my youth comes back to me.
And a verse of a Lapland Bong
Ja haunting my memory still:
"A boy's will Is the wlnd’x will,
And tho thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”
I can see the shadowy line* of It* trees.
And catch. In sudden gleams,
Tho sheen of the far-surrounding sea*.
And Islands that were the Hesperldes
Of all my boyish dream*.
And the burden of that old song.
It murmurs and whispers still; ___
"A boy's wilt Is the wind's will,
And the thoughts of youth ure long, long thought*/'
I remember the black wharves and the slips,
And tho sea-tide* tossing free;
And Spanish sailor* with beared lips.
And the beauty nnd mystery of the ship*,
And the magic of the sea.
And the voice of that wayward song
Is singing and saying still:
“A boy's will is the wind's will.
And the thoughts of youth qrc long, long thoughts.”
I remember the bulwarks by the shore.
And the fort upon the hill;
The sunrise gun. with Its hollow roar
The drum-beat repeated o'er and o’er,
And the bugle wild and shrill.
And the music of that old song
Throbs In my memory still:
"A boy’s will is the wind's will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”
I remember the sea-fight far away.
How it thundered o'er the tide!
And the dead captains, as they lay
In their graves, o'erlooking the tranquil bay,
Where they in battle died.
And the sound »f that mournful song
Goes through me with a thrill:
"A boy's will Is the wind's will.
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."
I can see the breezy dome of groves.
The shadows of Deering’s Woods;
And the friendships old and the early loves
Come back with a sabbath sound, as of doves
In quiet neighborhoods.
And the verse of that sweet old song.
It flutters and murmurs still:
"A hoy’s will is the wind's will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts,"
I remember the gleams and glooms that dart
Across the school-boy's brain;
The song nnd the silence in the heart.
That in part are prophecies, and In part
Arc the longings wild and vain.
And the voice of that fitful song
Sings on. and Is never still:
“A boy's will Is the wind’s will.
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."
There are things of which I may not speak;
There are dreams that cannot die;
There are thoughts that make the strong heart weak,
And bring pallor Into the cheek.
And a mist before the eye.
And the words of that fatal song
Come over me like a chill:
“A boy’s will is the wind’s will.
And the thoughts of youth are long. long thoughts."
Strange to me now are the forms I meet
When I visit the dear old town;
But the native air is pure and sweet.
And the trees that o’erpshadow each well-known street.
As they balance up and clown.
Are singing the beautiful song.
Are sighing and whispering still:
"A boy's v ill is the wind's will.
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”
And Deering's Woods are fresh and fair.
And with joy that is almost pain
, My heart goes back to wander there.
And among the dreams of the days that were,
I find my lost youth again.
And the strange and beautiful song.
The groves are repeating it still:
“A boy's will Is the wind's will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."
Why They Went Astray. |
A Buffalo clergyman is bemoaning
the loss of three trunks, and might,
if he were a layman, curse the stupid-
ity of a station master up In Franklin
County, Me. It seems that the rever-
end gentleman when returning from
the Rangeley Lake region was in a
hurry to catch bis train. He had but
a few minutes, and approaching the
much-befuddled and perspiring agent
pointed out four trunks and said:
"Here! Give me checks for these
“Where to?" gasped the agent, who
was a new man.
“Buffalo." replied the cleric.
With tremulous hand the agent de-
tached four checks, wrote "Buffalo”
on one of them and thrust the four
claim checks into the minister's grasp.
But the trunks never arrived. One
came along all right, and the officials
are hunting for the other three.
It seems that the new man. being
In a hurry, made out one check all
right, and wrote “Ditto" on the others.
How a Champion Athlete la Made.
It is an interesting fact that our
champion all-round athlete, Ellery H.
Clark, is. first of all. a worker in the
ordinary business life of his commun-
ity. Athletics are with him an amuse-
ment. He is not a bunched-muscle
athlete and does not believe in appa-
ratus, and therefore his accomplish-
ments are possible to most men. It
was not the mere mechanical opera-
tion of muscular force, so many move-
ments to the right or to the left, that
won the championship. He won be-
cause his muscular action was domi-
nated by a strong mind, because it
was willed into concentrated effort,
as he said, to exert "every atom of
strength in a grand explosion” that
wins not only on the athletic field,
but in every fleld.
As Mr. Clark himself puts it, it is
not the training, not the development
of muscle, not the diet that counts; it
is the mode of life.—Everybody's Mag-
azine. for October.
Value of Honey as Food.
The best way to cure children of
the injurious candy habit is to make
pure honey fresh from the hive, or
properly extracted from the comb, a
regular feature of their diet. Not
only candy, but lumps of sugar, sweet
cakes and too much jam are bad. Pure
honey is good.
Honey is more easily assimilated
than many “predigested” foods. It is
a concentrated food and furnishes the
same elements of nutrition as starch
and sugar, imparting warmth and en-
Honey is a valuable medicine, and
has many uses. It is excellent in most
lung and throat affections and is often
used with great benefit in place of
cod liver oil. Occasionally there is a
person with whom it does not agree,
but most people can learn to use it
with beneficial results.
Children who have natural appetites
generally prefer It to butter Honey
is a laxative and sedative, and in dis-
eases of the bladder and kidneys it is
an excellent remedy.
The Two Broom Makers.
Henry ClewB, the well-known bank-
er, was talking about a business con-
dition oi which he disapproved. “Such
a state of affairs,” he said, “reminds
me of the business of the two broom
makers of Jersey City. Didn’t you
ever hear about those two broom mak-
Mr. Clews smiled. Then he Went
“They were rivals in business, and
in their hatred of each other they cut
rates until both were selling at star-
“One day they met on the street,
each with a load of brooms on,his
back. They frowned at each other,
and then the man with the smaller
“ 'How is it—tell me how it is—that
you can sell brooms cheaper than me.
when I steal my broom corn?*
” *L* said the other, 'steel ray
ready ’ ”
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Simmons, J. Mason. The Manchester Journal. (Manchester, Okla. Terr.), Vol. 11, No. 24, Ed. 1 Friday, November 20, 1903, newspaper, November 20, 1903; (gateway.okhistory.org/ark:/67531/metadc497586/m1/3/: accessed November 24, 2017), The Gateway to Oklahoma History, gateway.okhistory.org; crediting Oklahoma Historical Society.