The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa on January 18, 1899 · Page 3
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The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa · Page 3

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Algona, Iowa
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Wednesday, January 18, 1899
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Mnnrmva* OWA WEDNESDAY Shell A ROMANCE Wilden. CHAPTER VI. Shell is in the now almost disused utlllroom of the Wilderness, dusting delicate china tea-cups with a clean glass-cloth. She is singing at the top of her fresh young voice, as she usually does when working alone. "Oh, here you are at last!" cries Ruby, entering the room with a victimized air. "I have been searching all over the house for you. Who ever would dream of finding you down here at the end of this long passage?" "Anybody with an atom of sense," answers-Shell bluntly. "If you insist upon asking about fifty people to a garden-party, with only two servants, some one must give them a helping hand." "Absurd—afternoon-tea is no trouble; but if you choose to encourage their laziness of course they are willing enough to let you!" Shell makes no reply, but placidly proceeds with her dusting. "Vi and I want you up-stairs," continues Ruby In a different tone. "We have decided to wear those muslins we tad for the flower-show, only they want altering a little, and some new laces tacking on." "All right—only I can't come just now," assents Shell readily—"the flowers have to be gathered and arranged yet; and cook is steeped to her eyebrows in cakes—I promised to help her as soon as I had finished these." "Oh, but the dresses must be done first! I'll gather the flowers if necessary," says Ruby in the voice of a martyr, "even though going out in the heat always does give me a frightful headache." Shell reluctantly complies, and is occupied for nearly an hour, then having still many household matters on her mind, she rises to take her departure. "Don't go yet; you know how I abhor this sort of work," said Ruby sharply—her only work so far has consisted in watching Shell's deft needle darting to and fro. "But, Ruby, I must—the tennis- courts want marking; and I must keep my promise to cook." "Oh, we can manage now quite well!" remarks Violet cheerily. "By the way, Shell, what are you going to wear?"—looking up with sudden interest. . "I? Oh, I don't know—I haven't thought!" returns Shell carelessly. "My white serge will do as well as anything—at any rate it is ready." "Don't wear stuff, it looks so hot; besides, that serge looks horrid since it was washed," objects Vi, who likes Shell sufficiently to wish that she should appear at her best. "My dear Vi, don't waste advice on Shell—you know how self-opinionated she is. Besides"—with a slight upraising of her eyebrows—"she is such a child, it really doesn't matter much what she wears." "Just so," assents Shell, shutting the door behind her; but, all the same, she goes away feeling rather sore at heart, for there is no small amount of contempt in Ruby's tone. Though her eldest sister has assigned her age as a reason for her dress not mattering, she knows full well that the tone also insinuates a vast want of personal attractions too. Yet, if she only know it, she has a charm all her own—the charm of a genial spirit and a warm impulsive heart, which peeps out of her clear gray-green eyes, and lingers amidst the dimples of her crimson lips. All that long summer afternoon there is no thought of self in the girl's conduct. She flits about, finding footstools and seats for old ladies, getting Pins and fresh flowers for girls who have come imporfectly provided, and generally making herself useful. "When will you be ready for tennis?" asks Robert Champley, who has heen watching her narrowly, though unseen, for the past ten minutes. "I am not going to play," answers Shell brightly, as she hurries across the lawn with a sunshade for an old lady who has left her own at hpme, and now finds herself incommoded by the ardent gaze of King Sol. "But everybody says you play so ^ell; and yet I have never seen you touch a racket," he urges, with a smile, on her return. "Perhaps that is how I keep my reputation," laughs Shell gaily. "No—but, really, I like to watch good '"ay; you might be obliging," pleads her companion. Truth to tell, he is if; beginning to take a deep interest in It Shell, probably owing to the fact that I; she seems to take no interest whatever In him. • "Well, I will be," responds Shell, l| *«h a curious little smile; and then, || Diking straight up to an exceedingly |H Pretty g i r j dressed in pale pink, she °"s gravely, "Nora dear, Mr. Champis most anxious to meet with some l ; a Wbo plays tennis really well, so I """'Iht i couldn't do better than him to y>u. Mr. Champley— Nora Fretwell;" and with a little r, «°<» she proceeds placidly on her way, I? ™ving so di s p ose( j o£ her cavalier, minutes later she is accosted by it a jolly afternoon,?" he be- If ' Y ea, only rather •tvarin, '•if am Very Fannn , S fUe ' you know men ? ^ C °° ls one for te wardT T 5 ten UmeS - nn n f She speaks she saunters iS Side ' that she «nso I had „ . ,. Ted, laughing—"Dob and Meg charged me with a commission. I am entrusted with a mysterious packet, which I faithfully promised to deliver into your own hands;" and from his pocket he produces a small and remarkably clumsy paper Parcel tied up with a bit of colored wool. "I think there must be some mistake, says Shell, looking at the proffered offering superciliously; "they probably meant it for Ruby." "On the contrary, I was particularly cautioned not to entrust it to your sister," laughs Ted. "I believe it is of an edible nature, and they feared the temptation might be too great." Shell takes the packet reluctantly and, standing still for a moment in the pathway, cautiously opens it, displaying to view some half-dozen chocolate creams of a decidedly crushed and not very tempting appearance. For a moment a beautiful and gentle smile lights up her every feature; then she remembers with a start the part she is acting, and asks scornfully— "What on earth induced them to send me these things?" "They probably thought you would appreciate them—poor children!" answers Ted, rather hotly. "They got a box as a present this morning, and wouldn't give me any peace until I consented to bring you over some. I wish"—indignantly—"that I had thrown them away on the road." "It certainly would have been wiser," retorts Shell, as she ruthlessly tosses the small bundle away amidst a clump of shrubs. "Children have such odd fancies." "I don't call that an odd fancy—I call it a generous impulse," corrects Ted, stolidly. "By the way"—looking at her keenly—"shall I tell them the fate of their poor little present." "As you please," answers Shell carelessly; and then, knowing the pain that would 'be inflicted by such a revelation, she adds quickly—"No, I think perhaps you had better not. Some people imagine that children are sensitive, and I have no wish to wound their feelings, in case they possess any." "In case they possess any?" repeats Ted, positively flushing with mingled anger and contempt. "You must be very dense if you have not yet discovered that those children are of a keenly nervous temperament." "I know I am dense," admits Shell, with not the faintest show of annoyance or resentment. "As for children, I don't profess to understand them— probably because I have no sympathy with them." Ted walks on beside her in thoughtful silence. It seems to him a sad pity that Shell, who used to be such a genial, sunny little creature, should have changed into the hard callous being now talking to him. He would like to account for the phenomenon in some way, and is contemplating the possibility of asking her if she has been crossed in love, when their tete- a-tete is cut short by Mrs. Wilden. "Shell dear," says that lady, in a troubled tone, "I wish you would run in and see to the making of the coffee —it is sure not to be properly cleared if you are not there. Mr. Champley will excuse you, I am sure—he knows that we cannot afford efficient ser- "I am only too delighted to find that England still possesses young ladies who are not above making themselves useful " answers Ted, in a bantering, teasing tone. "There is nothing I admire so much as domesticity In a woman. Most of our girls are getting so blue that it will be a blue look out for their husbands." "Yes indeed," murmurs Mrs. Wilden as Shell, with a little toss of her den ' 1) walks away- Dear Shell Is most •not very ornamental, but veiy domesticated, ana liar " In the meantime Ruby, at the other the lawn, is listening to a Piece « *iw<* causes her cheeks uupa -hilst she flutters her fan with increased nervous energy. change-' W6 re la 1899, "She seems languid and heavy. The air here Is very relaxing during the hot months; I think I shall take her to Scotland." "Oh, not to Scotland—poor child— the Journey would be so dreadfully fatiguing!" pleads Ruby, as she thinks with consternation of 'the Impossibility of inducing her mother to permit her to go so far from home—for already her quick brain has formed a Plan for following the children. "Yes, it might be trying for so young a child," agrees Mr. Champley thoughtfully, "in that case I must be. content with the moors or the North Devon coast." "I should just keep her at- home, and send her down by the sea every morning—sea-air Is always bracing," observes Ruby, with a feeble hope that her advice may be taken. "Mudmouth is the reverse of bracing," corrects her companion decidedly; "besides, it is not only the air—the children want a complete change." "Of, course you know best," admits Ruby, with a reluctant and despondent sigh; "but I always think that children are happier at home than anywhere else." "That depends," remarks Robert Champley vaguely, and with a sharp sigh. "Oh, yes, of course!" agrees Ruby eagerly; then after a moment she continues slowly, "However trustworthy servants may be, they can't understand everything." "Do you mean that the children are in any way neglected?" he asks quickly. "Oh clear, no!" laughs Ruby, with a playful head-shake. "I am sure their nurse is most attentive from all accounts—but you ought not, for instance, to allow her to choose their clothes. Of course she has no idea how to dress them—how should she, poor woman!" "They seem very sensibly clowned to me," answers Robert Champley, but in rather a dubious tone—In fact a tone open to conviction. "As long as they are warm and comfortable, the cut isn't of much importance." "But, my dear Mr. Champley, how can poor Meg be comfortable in a dress that allows of no free play of the limbs? Children ought never to be hampered by their clothing," "Is Meg hampered?" "Almost tortured, I should think, in her last dress. As for Bob, he ought to be dressed sailor fashion now." "Dear me—what am I to do?" asks Robert Champley, half-mocking, half in earnest. "I tell you what," says Ruby suddenly—"I will make clothes for each of them as a pattern. Now please don't protest—it will only be like the fun of dressing dolls to me." Of course Mr. Champley does protest, but, as usual, he protests in vain; and when he takes his departure from the Wilderness that evening he finds himself weighed clown by one more obligation to Ruby Wilden. As for Ruby, she is in great spirits—the only thing which troubles her in the matter is her total incapacity either to cut out or to make the clothes in question, seeing that in reality she knows far less how children should be dressed than the nurse whose tastes she has been criticising. (To be Continued.) A TORPEDO BOAT TRAGEDY. A Sad Illustration of the Danger of This Service. The Union squadron investing Charleston during the civil war was drawing closer and closer to the doomed place. One of the warships that lay closest inshore was the Housatonic, and that vessel was selected as the torpedo boat's victim. The Portland Transcript tells the tragic story: The evening of B'eb. 17, 1865, closed in raw', and fogjy. At 8 o'clock Capt. Corisoii gave the command and the boat dropped down the river. As the clocks were striking the half hour in the city the little craft pulled over the bar. Noiselessly she glided through the water, guided by the lights on the HouKatonio, for which she headed. So heavy was the fog that she escaped the notice of the sentries. At a quarter to nine she lay directly in front of the Housatonic, at a distance of five hundred yards. She was running faster now, and a little farther on sbe began to submerge. Two hundred yards more and she disappeared. Five minutes later there was a dull roar, and the water around the Housatonic boiled like a caldron. The noble ship gave a mighty upward heave and then began to settle. Ensign Hazleton and four sailors who were below perished, but fortunately for the rest of the crew the water was shallow and they saved, themselves by climbing into the rig-' ging. The vessel was a total loss, but the submarine torpedo boat was nowhere to be found. Two years after the war, when the wreckage was being removed from Charleston harbor, the Housatonic was raised. In her hull there was a ghastly wound, inflicted by the torpedo, and in that hole was the torpedo boat with every man on board still at his post, where he had died years before. The little boat had torn a big hole In the cruiser, through which the water had poured in such a volume that the torpedo boat was drawn into it. And there its crew died of suffocation, in the grasp of the enemy whi'h they had destroyed. T'v> Way* of Putting Tt. I no-'-e, Miranda," remarked Mr. 'ce, "that ypur first husband's clothes •"> not flt me." "No, Cyrus," coincided Mrs. Neggschoice, with a little sigh. "You don't them."—Chicago Tribune. t Why does a wan usually harp to shuffle off this mortal coll before be cut? much of » flgu.ro la THE TAHLTAN'S BITlS PIERCE CUSTOMS OF THE BRITISH INDIANS. ferery Time A Member of Their Tribe Dies a Natural Death, Another Member Is Made to Pay the Extreme Penalty—Witchcraft Run9 Riot. Witchcraft did not perish from American soil with the last witch burning of Salem. Away up in British Columbia, where the Stlkine river Hows too shallow to float the flatboats of the miners of Glenora and Telegraph Creek, a witch boy Is killed with terrible torture for every man or woman who dies a natural death. And this is among Indians whom civilization has marked for Its own. Where a belle has risen to silk shirt waists, and parasols, and where the braves wear patent-leather shoes and jewelry. For civilization is of the outward appearance, and it does not reach the •Jeep, black superstitions of the Ta- hltan people. While the coming of the white man—the miner of the Klondike, with his freight to be packed— has brought the comforts of comparative wealth and a realization of the advantages of civilized dress, food and horses, it has not been extended to the point that includes morals and religion. Along these paths they have made no progress. They buy and sell their wives and children; they practice their heathenish religious rites, their medicine and witch dances; they believe in and practice a very rude method of cremating the dead, and, worst of all, they believe in witchcraft. Every natural death is accredited to witchcraft, and for every "bewitched" Indian that dies some poor Indian boy is barbarously murdered. To their open-air life and the healthful climate of the Cassiar district is due the low death rate of the tribe and the correspondingly low "murder" rate. In the winter of 1896 an Indian woman lay near unto death In her •home at Tahltan village, and the wise men of the tribe decided that she had been bewitched. She belonged to the faction of the Tahltans known as the "Wolves;" so a "Wolf" witch doctor was called upon to drive out the witch that had crept into the mortal body of Kloochman. The doctor came dressed in wolfskins and made up to resemble as nearly as possible a wolf, and for two hours he danced about the couch of the dying woman, uttering horrible sries and making threatening gestures calculated to drive the witch out of the woman. The witch did not appear, and as the woman was apparently worse than before the medicine man's performance, it, of course, became immediately apparent to the Indian mind that the dying woman was possessed. The responsibility must be fixed, so, with a howl and a leap, the "Wolf" doctor seized upon the 12-year-old son of a widow of the tribe and dragged him to the couch of the dying woman, who admitted that she was bewitched; that the boy was responsible for the bewitchment—and thus she died. The mother wept and pleaded for boy's life. The lad declared that he Would not know how to go to work to bewitch any one, but what could the mother and child do against the death- wlth Superintendent of Indian Affairs Vowel!, at Victoria, B. C., who sent a detective to tahltan village to stop the murder and secure the executioner. In those days means of communication between Victoria and towns In northern Cassiar were not up to their present mark.and the detective arrived too late. The hunt occurred, and at a convenient spot on the banks of the Stl- kine Desculta's hunting knife, dexterously wielded, disemboweled the poor little Slwash and the body was slipped under the Ice of the Stildne, a river that seldoms gives up its dead. The day following the murder the detective arrived on the scene. A friend of Desculta's offered to help him find the murderer and they started off on their wildgoose chase. The treacherous guide led him by one spot where, twenty fe'et away, an Indian woman was scraping the bloody snow from the spot where the murder was committed; led him by the tepee where Desculta was gathering his possessions together preparatory to going into an enforced retirement; led him a day's march In the wrong direction, and then admitted that Desculta must have escaped. For two years Desculta has been a wanderer on the face of the earth, living on what he can kill and the roots he can dig. He dare not mingle with the other Indians, for they would betray him to the authorities. He dare not trust himself with the members of his own tribe. There have been other executions among the Tahltans for the crime of witchcraft, even within a few months. In August, 1898, an Indian girl died but resolved to iaote hefeahef lfl| more mysterious ways his executions! to perform. - t ..THE ELEPHANT IN CRIMEA " Few more impressive confidences caft be Imparted than that In which a Hindoo describes how he knows hlfl elephant Intends to destroy him. It ia all so seemingly trivial, and yet la reality of such deadly significance. His story is so full of details that prove the man's profound understanding of what he is talking about that one remains equally amazed at the brute's power to, dissemble and Its Intended victim's insight into the would-be murderer's character. And yet ( from the psychological standpoint, an elephant never gives any other such indication of mental power as Is exhibited In Its revenge. That patient, watchful, Implacable hat^ red, often provoked simply because a man Is in attendance upon another animal (for it is the rule with tuskers to detest their next neighbors), speaks more conclusively of a high Intellectual guide than all stories, true or false, of concentration and fixedness of purpose, that have been told of their ability. Such concentration and fixedness of purpose, such careful, unrelaxed vigilance, such perfect and consistent pretense, and, when the time comes, such desperate unhesitating energy as homicidal animals exhibit, are impossible without a very considerable, although in this instance very irregular, development. No one can deny that If this creatura Is great at all its greatness shows Iti self in its crimes. These have causecj THE WITCH DOCTOR AT WORK. HUNG UP AND WHIPPED, bed confession and accusation of the bewitched Kloochman? The deceased should certainly know whether she was bewitched or not, and to whom ,the responsibility belonged. From .such a court there was no appeal. A brave of the tribe (his name was Desculta) here took charge of the proceedings. The boy was tied up by the thumbs and beaten with switches as punishment for the witches. A big hunt was organized and set for a date two months ahead, and while waiting for the final act in the tragedy the boy was frequently tied up and whipped to bring him to a realizing sense of his condition. The mother of the doomed lad doubted the wisdom of the elders of the tribe and the justice of the boy's sentence, so she journeyed to Telegraph Creek and laid the matter before John Highland, a white merchant, wfco ia still io business there. Mr, immediately at Tahltan village. Before her death she confessed that she had been bewitched, and declared that little Joe Cullihan, a 12-year-old orphan, who was purchased years ago by the Coast Indians, was the boy that bewitched her. Of course, Joe denied the accusation, but the girl died, and that proved her story, according to the Indian belief. An Indian named Lolli took upon himself the right to meet out fate to little Joe, and tied the boy up by his thumbs, according to the best methods of the tribe. As snow would not arrive for at least sixty days and as it would be contrary to all precedent to order a big hunt until there was snow on the ground and ice in the river, the victim had a considerable length of time to attend to his sore thumbs and acquire a better understanding of the disadvantages of being an up-to-date witch, unknown to oneself and friends. But this little boy had a better chance for his life than had his predecessors- in witchcraft, for the sudden rush of gold seekers toward the Canadian Klondike' landed within twenty miles of little Joe's home fully 4,000 civilized gold seekers, 200 Canadian soldiers, and a fine body of provincial police under the command of W. H. Bullock Webster, and, the matter coming to the knowledge of the latter, murder was prevented. Mr. Webster sent after the parties concerned in the affair. The officers brought back little Joe, but not his self-appointed executioner, but an Indian runner for a monetary consideration found Lolli and brought him into camp, accompanied by leading Tyrees of the tribe, Lolli was arraigned before Magistrate Webster at Telegraph Creek Aug, 18, 1898. The services of an interpreter was secured and under the influence of proper questioning Lolli deposed as follows: "My name is Lolli; am Tahltan Indian; have declared for hunt at which Joe Cullihan is to be disemboweled by me and his body sunk in Stikine, for having bewitched a girl in our tribe. I believe in witchcraft, • My tribe has always believed in witchcraft and executed witches. I do not know it is wrong. I believe it is right." Magistrate Webster of Vancouver.B. C., gave Lolli a lecture on the enormity of the crime he was about to commit. He also gave him ninety days In jail at Telegraph Creek in which to consider the main points of the lecture. Joe, the wi(ch, dres§e4 J« his first suit of 4m.ericaQ f oh^h|$ 184 flrst pair of sh,o,es, Is at it to be worshiped in the East, where men venerate nothing but merciless, irresponsible force, and where an exhibition of those qualities and traits described fully accounts for the formula, "My lord the elephant." THE MAD MULLAH. The mad mullah must not be taken too lightly. These fanatics of the orient from time immemorial have exercised enormous power over unthinking multitudes, and just as Solomon Eagle, in Ainsworth's romance, imparts his insane frenzy to thousands of his fellow-creatures in a wave 'of superstitious magnetism, so the mul- HE IS NOT BEAUTIFUL. lah, by sheer force of character, carries low masses with him. Many of the humbler folk of this day in England regard a lunatic as the inspired mouthpiece of the Almighty and attach unutterable importance to his mouthings, and this is much the sort of significance attached to the wild music and raving utterances of the mullah. He has power of a sort, though it would appear from the picture that the adults about him are amused rather than awed by his ferocious song. Only the little children peep with scared faces at the fantastic creature, Secret TUe ~- "i W ant a

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