Logansport Pharos-Tribune from Logansport, Indiana on September 17, 1896 · Page 12
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September 17, 1896

Logansport Pharos-Tribune from Logansport, Indiana · Page 12

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Logansport, Indiana
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Thursday, September 17, 1896
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tASEBALL BOYS IN BLUE. tie Becord arid Personnel .of .the Famous Fort Schuyler Nine. kk. ' 8. Indian Fljrlitera at the U»t—Tb» lol<]lor Cu4tmploni linvo Never Yet Boon 'Jtcuteu by it Team la Tholr Chut. f.V . ]S96.] f Bight where the glaciers of the ice |ce scraped and heaped up one of their Mg lateral moraines, nud where to this lay what is left of it, a tougue of land flatting out to meet a similar tongue from the Long Island shore, shows the nighty force of the plow which left inch furrows, grini ohl Fort Schuyler itands on gunrd at the eastern gate of She metropolis. Fort Schuylcr. mitn-ully, is full of solders, seme veterans who have tried flghtiug, and others strapping youug Jellows who would as soon try it us cat any duy. Their business is to be ready Cx> ilgbt and :-,o they fuss around all day [and much of the nig-ht. with drills and aentry-go and other duties. When jtiicy're not busy iu such soldierly ways, [Uiey play ball, not pretend to play it, (but really p'ny it, ns ccrta-in otlier sol- jdicrs from other forts have found out ;4o tlic'n- sorrow. The Fort Schuyler nine is fiuntms ^unong milit.iry men between Eastport jsuid the Golden Cat*-. Every man. on it .with one, exception is a soldier and Lho [Seam has never been bea-tcn by any sol- jiier nine from the near-by forts. : Most,of the members come from clown l«ast, where baseball lias entirely suppv- nederl the study of Plato mid Emerson, and huvc pitched nnd batted from their pearliest, years. Some of them have seen ^service as Indian lighters in the west and some arc quite recent additions to [Uncle Sum's :irrr:y,T)'.it i-hc veterans who jlnouglu their knapsacks safe home Jrom the Indian country and tlie untried ^recruits" yet get together in great •hape on thediumoad. At last accounts •.they had played 14 games, of which 12 resulted iu victories. The other two—• they were played with civilians Bower h.is a good eyei He canh.ot only Impel th:0 twistedcst curved ball with a dynamic swat-of the hickory, butheta one of the crack riflemen of the post. John '\Y. Lynch, center fielder, hails from a fighting family in Providence, E. I. His greatgrandfather was in the revolution, his father in the civil war and himself, though only 23, has be«n several years a soldier. James Duffy, Inte of Pawtucltet, E.L, Is stationed in right field. Duffey made u civilian baseball record with the Banner Boys, the crack team of New England. The only civilian on the team is E. Z. Parker, who plays third bnse. ITc is also secretary of the club and is the only one on the uino who is paid for'his swviccs. Parker is every inch H ball player. Uis associates have clubbed him "Easy" because of his good nature. He randb his first record a« a ball tosser while amcm- ber of tJio Kingston (X. Y.) club of the old Eastern league. He led nil other players n-t thnt time both in the field and at the bat. Us is 27 years old and is a born New Yorker. Parker's latest move hns been to issue a sweeping chfiDetign open to H I! ;i:rmy or non-army clubs, burring professional, to piny n scries for the championship and a trophy. Manager lid. J. Jleagher has been a soldier for many years, and a good one, too. While stationed ia western posts he took l<irt in someof the fiercest coko nnd 'cond mining strikes in the Coeur d'Alene region and alwnys acquitted himself nobly. Mcojjhcr is an old-time ball player nnd knows a thing or two nbmit handling pltiyers. Ho was born in Worcester, Mass., where tliey know a thing or two about, baseball, but has been i n the army so long thnt he is a veteran njiiODg' the boys and knows just where to look for good material. It may be whispered that several other government posts near New' Y'ork possess fhio baseball nines, and that they are growing better oil ihe time, 'under the spur of competition, cud the natural desire o£ wresting Irom the. Fort Schuyler boys their boasted supremocy. But It is going- to be a hard matter for tha' rivals of tka Westehestor braves to oust them from the military.championship. SOLDIERS' BASEBALL TEAM AT FORT SCHUYLER. who clon't have to 'do sentry-go and play [ball ull tho time if they feel like it. .• [Borne of the 12-vjctories were over ama- |tenr teams, too. One of tlie games of . [which the teams is proudest, although * defeat, is that played with theFord- ,. jham college crack nine, when the coHo- tians wou by a score of only eight to :, Coven. ' The Fort Schuyler .team is uniformed (and has an iimpire, John Welsh, a ten- year vetci-nu who's brave enough for |even an umpire's trying duties. It has pt mascot, too, in the person of Ordnance jfiergt. LufBejr's sot, a youngster whose •oulful rooting has won many a hard- bought field. The Fort Schuyler boys Stave been beaten,'b'ut only 'on those oc- jeasions-which, owing to circumstances '.-' lover whidi we had no control, Master .' (Tracy Lofflcr failed to grace with his [presence. The captain and catcher of the team . ia J. McMabon, who is of course called ' 'VMac." Hoc jain«l the army four years • ,*go and took a memorable triptoChi- ;cago when PresidentClcTcla.nd and GOT. JAltgcld had theirlistoric differences of jopinion rcgarfling the proper course of ' jtreatmentof thcPullma-o s-trike. He is » yonug man yet, and hails from Jleri- "Iden, Conn., where he learned to .play {ball with the famous llesolutes, of the Kated city. He is ]»cr(ect behind the (bat, a sure thrower aud a heavy sticker, and he is popular t<*.h the .players be- jcause of his mikl an* rquable temper. The piteher, Will tain Jtekin, made his iark with the Orioles, of Baltimore, six jyears ago, before a patric*ic impulse impelled him to servo with the colors jve all loye better tha,n even the lengue .jcnnant. Mekin saw service in the ""ghost dance" campaign in the Sioux . «onntry and can flfcrc-w a ball ns straight »nd swift as a Sioux arrow, ttough he '••'• 'vswUly prefers to throw them crooked ;.' »nd swift; He is 20 years old. • Joe Kirk, who stamps around first ^ase, is a Boston lad, 27 yea,rs old but •nly a yearling in Hhe army. 1 Thomas Thomas, tlie second baseman, -. ias been ten months in the nine and the : •ervicc, but hchas played boll ever since tut was knee- high to a gun. He was • born in Scranton, Pa., 22 years ago and played in professional teams, including v .the Rivals, oE Scranton, and the Eeso- ';, Jutes, of Meridco; , A third cx-Meriden. boy is William • iWelsh, a short stop who'd do credit to a ^professional nine. He served only at -•'.Port Schulyer; before Ws enlistment he •'played wi-th th<! Eosolutes. . • Mcriden boy Xq. 4 la WiUtoin; Bower. as so many of them had the best kind of professional and semi-professional training before they ever became soldiers at all. Tor that matter, it's no new thing for baseball men to become soldiers. It's a matter of grave historical record that when the civil war broke out a big proportion of thcbaseba!! clubs in the north became the rallying point for recruits and suddenly swelled into military companies bound for the front. ..OWEN LANQDON. IN EARLY R&YS. Pioneer LHnlcnltlen la Flitting a Iloave with Windows. In the early days of America window glass, being expensive, was often carried a long distance with great care. The story is told of a settler who built a log house, and, after moving his family in, went to Gorhamtown,to purchase 12 lights of 7x9 glass for the two small windows. This was well tied in a large handkerchief, and he started on his return. H'e selected even places for his feet at every step, and avoided all possible, obstacles; thus he moved slowly homeward. All want well until ha reached bis own dooryard. As he approached the house he saw his wife, standing in. the doorway, and shouted: "Well, Sally, I've got my glass home!" Alas! his attention had been, diverted; he caught his foot in a small bush by the path and fell headlong. Quick as thought he raised his hand high to ehkld the gloss, but it came down with fcll swing upon a flat stone and was broken into fragments. Then and there be registered a vow that he would never 'look tfcrough glass in that house, and he kept his word. "If I'd fell half-way to Gorhamtown," •he said, "I wouldn't ha' keered; but it seemed too everlasting bad to go down and smash it right off agin my own door!"—Youth's Companion. IXirtuante Awkwurdneii. He—Ton my soul, Miss Amy, I never pfopoied to a girl before! She—I believe you; and, for your own Mike, 111 see that you never do it again 1 —Brooklyn Life. . .'. , —Talleyrand never was in love but; once, and-'that was when he was'about' 10 'years old. When Napoleon-6rdefed'| 'liim to marry and picked out a wife for- him, he'pleaded this youthful atta'cb.4 m'ent.'which vras-immediately scoffedj at. by the-great matchmaker as a-piece of nonsense. ' - . .'.•' •'.'.'..,':••''••" A "tf! I STAKE. A. tadpole sat on a. cool, gray stone. And sadly thought 'of,his life;. • "Alas, must I live all alone!" said be, "Or -shall I espouse mo a wife?" A wise old fros on the brink of tho stream Leaned over and said, with a slsh: "Oh. wait till you're older, my dear young friend, You'll have bettor taste by and byl "Girls change, you know, and tho polIy wos slim, That takes your fancy to-day, May not be the polly at all you'd ohooao. \Vhen tlie summer has passed away!" But the tadpole rash thought he better knew, And married a pollywog fair: And before the.,summer was over he sat .On the brink of thill stream In despair. For, would you believe It? H19 fair, young .. bride Proved to be but a stupid fro(?, With never a trace of beauty and grace Of .young Miss rollywog. . And although the tadpole himself had grown Stout and atupld, too! lie only saw the faults of hi3 wife, AB others sometimes do. • To all young- tadpoles, my moral Is this: Before you settle in life, Ce sure you know, without any doubt, What you want In the way of a wife! —Mary H. Olmstead, In Golden Days ZEE'S PET SALMON. BY VIRGIL O. EATON. Rutherford,'a domesticated and very intelligent salmon belonging to Zeb Arkins, of Hot Hole 'Mountain, Me., JH 'dead. • The immediate cause of h.:^ taking: off was old age, tliougl n:uch handling and long journeys overland to the Dead Kiver fish Latchery no doubt shortened his days. Zeb's liking for Eulluu-ford was cf an uncommon kind, even in these dnys ol m-tio and erotic affections. The ten- dor and pink' steaks, wihich make most salmon precious as well as palatable, wore never taken intotheaccouiitwhen Zeb made, an inventory of Euthorford's os;sets. A fish that co.uld keep a large spring 1 of water free from, f rojrs and insects for 20 years imcl earn in the same time S52.0G in coid cash was something uncommon,' even in Offline, where the n.-ituivil and supernatural walk hand in hand. It was obvious to everybody who knew the'circumslances thntZe-b prized IiUtherfOTcl as ;v money winner and confidential companion, and liked him so well that no epicurean thought crossed his mind. In a cose of live salmon and .regular income against boiled sulmon and g:-een peas Zeb espoused the unpopular side, and Eutherford survived two decndes. Zeb is a farmer, who follows fishing- for ioi avocation, preferring the joys of the gentle art to anything he can fiml around the loafers' bench at the grocery. Late in May, 1S7G, when his neighbors were saving their dollars,to go to Pliil- ,a.delphia, he took his dip'net and went 'down -toward the .buy, hoping to catch !o few smelts. The second sweep of the net brought him in a gilded and ver- million-spotted salmon that weighed 13 ipounds. By soaking his net occasionally in fresh water he got the fish home alive. He put it Into the great boiling spring bock of the house. In u ferv 'weeks it had devoured all-the swimming and creeping things that made their ,home in the spring, and began to look .to Zeb for sustenance. By carrying out .chopped meat and scraps f rom the ta.ble Iwhcnever he went after a pail of water, Zeb soon tamed the fish-so it would come' arid take the food from his hands. .When tlie republican national conven- •tion met and nominated.Gov. Hayes for 'president, Zeb named his fish Rutherford in honor of the.winning candidate. 'After that the salmon.was regi-ded as •a member of the fn.mily and no longer was mentioned as "it." t - • The pinch of hard times, which was felt all over Maine in 1S7G, fell upon Zeb with the rest. One day. when he •was -feeling unusually poor a neighbor asked Won why toe dkl not sell Rutherford to the fish hatchery. Zeb could 'not endure the thought of paring with his fish. Then he received a letter from a lawyer asking for immediate payment on a. small bill that wns .long overdue, That night Eutherford was. taken in a tub to the hatchery and Zeb went home with S3.0G in. .his pocket. He was very sad all through haying. In August, when 'his grass was in the barn, he went after berries. In his travels he came lo. the great pond where the hatchery fish are confined. He was picking berries nnd whistling an old tune when he heard : a splash in the water. This wai fallowed by another and another, until a great shining salmon'dashed against the bench right at his feet.. Zeb knew at once that It was Eutherford. He fed his pet with a few berries' from his paol and went home, to pass a bad night. Though he fought .bravely, the temptation was strong 1 , and the 'next dfl.y Eutherford was stolen from the pond and put back in the spring, . Fortune was kind to Zeb.for three years, but in, 1879 a fever broke out in 'his family that took his last cent and. left him in debt. In his straits heagain took Eutherford to the hatchery and offered him for sale, Mr. Buck looked, the fish over, and, turning up the. back of its dorsal fin, showed a tiny bronze ,tag which was attached toEutherford'a back with a platinum wire. "This fish has been here before," said Mr. Buck. "There is .my. tag, No. 033. ' ait a minute while I look up this record." . • . r • • • ' Zeb's knees knocked together with fear while Mr.'Buck went to a book and Tcad-'that No. CSS had been purchased on July 21, 1376, and that he weighed 18 pounds at .that time. Zeb .managed to ask feim.if the name of the seller was on 'this book, nnd when-Mr. Buck saldsuch; records were'•unnecessary his .heart! turned somersaults of gladness •inside of his ribs'. Eutherford had gaintd con- • 8iderably,,in tic'time, -and now; weighed Dve weight, and waived one" dollar extra ns bounty on the tag, and wen 1 home feeling uncoirraonly well.. • . "If you ever cnt<-'.i him again," Bait mitted.she \yould have at once signaled "I love theei Joseph." But he was jus Cousin Joe, and repressing any demon utration of special interest, she liftec the scuttle in the roof, threw it back climbed upon the platform, and looket off. Her heart started up and began to ,beat like a thresher's flail, for there was a schooner flying a signal: She kaew what it meant. Was it Cousin Joe of there? Whoever it was, a signal of "distress" was fluttering above the ves gel. Should Polly ; run and get Uncle Bonald? When in summer during the eeason of elosed'doors and vacant rooms at the station', 1 any-disaster might happen on the water, the proper procedure was to run for'the''keeper and notify him. At the head, of as many of the olc crew as he could gather from the corn- .fields and fish-houses, the keeper hurried to the station; operating as might be advisable.' Uncle' Ronald,' though, was off on a "later-patch," a mile away. In -the meantime tho whole' United States navy, ducking their heads one after the other, could sink off'this very station. "Wasn't a female crew running this station to-day?" soliloquized Polly. "I'll answer that signal 'myself." The schooner was'so near the shore that if her sails had been, 'set the appropriate signal would have been the JD of the international code of signals: "You are standing-in todangcr,"butthis vessel had dropped her canvas, as if meaning to halt anyway', and then she had a, suspicious look, as if sinking; Til let them know they arc recognized, and that they may expect help," thought Polly, working- swiftly. Turning away from the staff, at whoso head new 'fluttered tlijs signal like n. tongue of cheering speech, Polly ran down "the short stairwa}- into the crew's night quarters, • then down the Hairs, dropping 1 to the kitchen, and cried, in jerks: Oh—oh!—zounds!—auntie—quick! Domg-er!" "What?" "Quick!" She was'now darting through the outer door. "Git your uncle, Polly!" "Too—too—far off! Coine!" •And Nabby sprang- after Polly, "Let's—take—uncle's—boat. Aunt Nabby!" "We go off?" "Yes—yes! You can. row; no can I." "Good for ye!" cried Aunt Nabby. "I. am with ye," They rushed uncle's boat down to the firm, shelving sands. They pulled it through the low-running-surf, and soon weru alongside the schooner in distress. "Quick—quick!" said a sailor, bringing-a box to the vessel's rail. "We ran on the rock in the night, lost our boat, :houyh we got off the rock, started a eak, and have been scttlin' ever since— there, .I'll go back with ye. Then I'll pull off and get another load, Cap'n is n the cabin gettin 1 t hihgs up. You are •ood to c'ome.off—women, too. Eeady? lum—now? All together. Pull!" The boat was rowed ashore, the box, irecious with papers and money, carted up the sands, and then the sailor said: . . . . 'Lemme go back, alone. I will make more room for the next load, with cap'n or anyone that comes.". "I won't marry'that captain, running on a rock," thought Polly. "He must oe .stupid and homely. Give me a hand- iome sailor." . She thought of Cousin Joe and the lomely captain perched in state on the mantel-piece at the house. ; if looking behind and discovering ler thoughts, the sailor remarked: . "It wa'n't the fault of our cap'n that we were on that rock, or norybody's, Things will happen, you know." "I wouldn't marry him anyway," si- ently resolved Polly. • As"the boat was rustling through the' iurf, Aunt Nabby said: "Now, Polly, we are the crew to-day,- rou know, and must do jest as the crew- IOCG to the shipwrecked. I'll start a fire n-'thc. kitchen stove in the station'. I -aw some coffee and sugar down there n the pantry, and 111 git some milk and ake and biskit. We'll fix 'em. Yon ivatch by the stuff, as it comes. Hest f the crew is agoin' to the station." Load after load was safely brought rom the schooner, which all this time vas settling. With the last boat-load .ame the captain. Polly started when he saw him step on tlie sands. Why'. ladn't she seen it .whilo he. was in the loat'nearing tho land? If Cousin Joe's licture had left the mantel-piece, and, urning up, had -stepped out of the joat, she could not have been more sur- irised. This .was Cousin Joe himself. ihe sprang forward. :. "Why, Cousin Joe, is it yo.il?" she ried, this short surfman flying up to, iim, reaching as high as she. could and throwing her arms about him. , * "I—I—I—" stammered the young. man, blushing, though not displeased. I—-I—thank you with, my whole heart; or helping-us so nobly, but I am not ; 'our Cousin Joe, sorry to. say!" Not Polly's Cousin Joe ? "Why, why I" she murmured, in con- usion, starting bade. '• Another voice,- though, was speaking ( —somebody from the station—and- aughing heartily. • "Dick Warner,.I,do: eclare—ha, hal Glad to see ye hum! j 'oily, Polly, dear, come hero! This is; )ick W r arner." , ;.-•.! "I thought it was Cousin i'oei—that; icture ou the mantel-piece," said Polly,; lushing arid hang-ing low her head. •"No; no," screamed Aunt Nabby, ''you, made a mistake. Cbuski Joe is t'other licture—haV ha'!.', 'He'll be hum'soon!" Yes, the rpal.Cousin Joe "came .homei oon, and just in time.t.o bear of the eri-j gngc'ment' between;a .certain yofung 1 fe-; male surfmanand.Capt. EichaTd Warn-, GOSSIP OF DAME FASHION .Lettuce Green and Corn Color tba Latest Combination. the N»w In Llneo Contnmei— Gtnfhmm ai It la Worn-Plaid Silk Ble«r« mod » Gown fur Hecond MouroiBg. [COPYRIGHT. 1S96.1 We are wout to'associate gingham with farmhouses, and the gingham sunlxmnet and apron. Perhaps that is why, in the first enthusiasm for the country, we wear gingham in July, But tine gingham gown of fashion ia far too aristocratic to acknowledge as its sister the ma/terial of which that A SECOND MOURNING COSTUME, bonnet, faded from much use, ha-s been made. The gingham gown of the season is made over white silk, or paper taffeta. It is most dei.ica.teJy tinted, rose, mcuve and'blue, while a changeable effect is the. accepted one, A perfect model is of a rose tint in color, deepening and paling- in drap- n linon Kiiit m.iy be becoming </> /. For \uu: In trimming, linen batiste em- broWwxl piocra, or those embroidered in flocllr. itre v.-ry effective. The latter come in very delicate colorings, anff are greatly enhanced by cutting the batiste from beneath them, allowing the lining silk to ribow through. A new iden is to have the sleeve made of plaid silk. The effect i« very striking, though hardly pretty. It seems, however, to have 4oun<3 favor, just oa many another ugly mode. Black velvet ribbon IB introduced largely in the bodices of linen. dresses, where rows of it are alternated with tiny horizontal tucks of the material, On other gowns yeJlow Valenciennes lace runs down each seam of the ekirt, while the bodice and sleeves are trimmed to match. A charming creation, if one except the sleeves, hasafuH skirt on whicbaxo placed, at regular intervals, ornaments of embroidered batiste, and two rows of tiny lace about the bottom. The loose bodice is striped with rows of the lace, in clusters of. two, while, a drapery of brocade lace falls over the sleeve and forms a simulated yoke. Plaid silk is puffed over the elbow and Outlines the waist. Blue is the color of the plaid, bluies and lace trim the bluo hat. Time was when a bereaved person wore heavy crepe for a couple of years, nnd lighter mourning and equal length of time thereafter. Now we are told by physicians that crepe is un.hea.lthy, that a veil inspires headache, £>JK! fashion has begun to frown upon them. Second nourning. is as rapidly losing caste; indeed, many fashionables will wear heavy black one 'day, stepping from it to vivid scarlet the. next, to the utter bewilderment of their friends. This mode, however, cannot last, Jong. The decided corjij-ast in color-, ing is too striking, and the true lady will prefer to tide over the change by. wearing black and white, and softgrays nn<l violets. Especially adapted for summer mourning are the black and w'hitesum- mer silks, which have flooded the market, 'and which make -up so prettily when combined with embroideries. Such, is a.e-ovn of. black silk, with a. A STRIKING LDfEN: COSTUME. erles In most bewitching, manner. Scarlet eilk .stitching, and a pink »ilk lining heighten tie effect. Another io made up .with the ficelle embroideries wihich ore so popular. The color ,effect is pale green, a dark green' bodice 'encircling tihe wadst and jiving character to the combination. Dainty hate should be worn with gtogbam, much swa.tt.ed with tulle. The. tall* or IJase may also be intro- A GINGHAM GOWN, fluccd on. the neck. ruche, which has, ately come to be so important an ad- unct to our.gowns.' , . : The' ordinary .linen color is not bc- cbniing to most people. The linen cos- rames this .season' have a yellowish ungo, • however,, and the purchaser of-a suit shouJd.be careful to avoid the ugly •late color; besides, fashion admits. of five',use of.so inany,l«uib,t ribbons that- hairline of white running through it •The eight gored skirt is untrimmed,' flaring' widely at the foot. A plain back has the bodice madft, with Jacket effect. The jacket fronts; pie of white embroidery, and end atthft •nnder-arm sleeve. At their edgea 5a »; side plaiting of the black Bilk stands^ •forming the vest, and encircling the col-; jar in a high ruche. The sleeves Bh&fti the imprint of the new modes, bejngj [tight-fitting below the elbow, wita m niche of embroidery at the wrist. i The Btay-at-bomes are often at a loaj ,what to wear in the city during thed^gV 'days. Organdies and mulls, while v«J*| pretty and cool-looking, are sadly inafo •proprlatc for dty streets, where the. &u»t will fafle, their pristine fresh-"""" : l Perhaps the most satisfactory jterlal for a gown Is blue foulard, comes so prettily flecked with 'and is cool and stylish. Just now th tre many new designs in the mark,..,, land August wiU see a number of theja on the promenade avenues of New York.*; The most charming foulard gown*. In the new Paris shipments are com-; 'blned vrith silk muslin, or mull, aoiA Wany of them have Marie Antolneita' 'fichus. Others, have narrow batiste] ipialting put horizontally across -tiha; ;bodlce, wjaile still others are trimmed Wili puffs and batiste frills on th« fdllar. j Ptrhapa one of the most graceful to* Wo row! of narrow velvet ribbon about the plain skirt. The bodice 1» loose, with a row of heavy lace outlining, the yoke, and a broad band of ribbon.. kied about the waist arid fastened with. 'q targe bow at the side. The sleeves are mosquetaires, a broad side plaiting* ol. foulard" about the arm pit giving width tit the shoulders. The new sleeve J«

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