The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa on September 13, 1899 · Page 2
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The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa · Page 2

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Wednesday, September 13, 1899
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TIPPEH BES MOtNESt ALGOKA, IOWA, WEDNESDAY 8EMEMBE11 13, 1899 CHAPTER iv.—(continued.) "'Is that all?" Miss Branscombe's look seemed to say, and her color came back and the frightened look faded out of her eyes. I wondered what she had dreaded. Another gravely-eaten dinner was scarcely over when my summons came. Miss Branscombe started to her feet with a suppressed cry, and passed Swiftly from the room before me. "Only Mr. Fort, 1 was to say." The butler hesitated, looking anxiously at Miss Elmslle. "I beg your pardon, ma'am, but the message was particular." "Poor <?oar child!" murmured Miss Elmslie, rising and looking helplessly at me. "What can I do It—It Is too late, I am afraid." "Will you leave it to me?" I said gently. "Perhaps I can persuade Miss Branscombe." "Yes, yes," she exclaimed, laying her trembling hand on my arm—"you will persuade her." Those hours of anxious watching and enforced confidence had thrown down the barriers of unconventionally, and made us more intimate than months of ordinary Intercourse would have done. Both the elder and the younger lady turned to me In their loneliness and their sorrow; already I had taken my place as a friend with them. In the corridor outside the sickroom Miss Branscombe was standing In the recess of a window wringing her hands and sobbing pitifully. "Mr. Fort," she-exclaimed, "they will not let me see him! Tell him that 1 am here—surely they will not be so cruel as to let him die without a word to me at the last! And I v-is like his own child. I must—oh, I n^t see him again before " Sobs choked her voice. I placed her gently on the window- seat. "If you will wait patiently for ten minutes, Miss Branscombe," I said, "I will come back for you." "And Charlie, my cousin," she said —"you will not forget?" flattered myself, soften the blow to Miss Branscombe, or at least I might give her an explanation which should mitigate her anger against myself, and account for what I dreaded she would regard as a breach of trust. But Miss Branscombe remained Invisible. Her cousin reported that she was quite overcome by her grief, and would not as yet hear of consolation. The day, Which had been brilliantly fine In the early part, clouded over toward the afternoon, and rain—a gentle, balmy summer rain—fell softly, but without intermission. The change was more In unison with the spirit of the moment and the hushed silence of the darkened house; and as I sat in the library, busied with some writing for Miss Elmslle, the musical rythm of the raindrops, pattering softly down on the laurel and berheris leaves outside the open window, seemed to me like tears shed for a good man's loss. Miss Elmslie came in and out with a hushed tread, and gave me Instructions In a subdued voice, sometimes staying to talk of the dead man upstairs—of his virtues and consistent life, his trials and disappointments—and, at last, in natural sequence, of Charlie, the scapegrace, and of Nona, the child of Col. Branscombe's youngest brother. "Poor Charlie!" she said, shaking her head. "He was always the one bitter drop In Harold Branscombe's cup. He Idolized the boy—such a beautiful angelic-looking creature—he was so like the sister poor Harold loved and never forgot—and he spared neither trouble nor expense In his education. Charlie was to be the heir, to carry on the old name. And Nona— well, .he had his hopes and dreams for the dear girl. But Charlie ruined all; he nearly broke poor Harold's heart, and upset all his plans. Nothing could mend the boy; there seems to be a sort of mad fever In his blood—I don't know where he gets It. He's as wila to-day as he was six years ago. Only Nona—in her youth and Inexperience, dear child!—clings to the hope of his "MB. FORT," SHE EXCLAIMED, "THEY WILL NOT LET ME SEE HIM." "I have not forgotten," I answered as I left her. It was soon over. The Colonel had reached a further stage In the dark journey, and the clergyman who sat by his side guided the hand which affixed a tremulous signature to the deed 1 had drawn up In the morning. It was the Rector and a young footman who witnessed the signature, and then the Colonel spoke—this time in a whisper. "Now—send her to me. Stand by her —all of you—she will—need it." There were old friends—old servants there, but It was on my arm that Miss Branscombe leaned as she went to that solemn parting scene—I remembered it afterwards. It was a brief and agonizing farewell, for the sands of life were almost run out, and then the new mistress of Forest Lea was borne insensible from the chamber where all that remained of the brave old Colonel was only the mortal dust—the immortal spirit had fled. • CHAPTER V. The first stage of my work was accomplished, and I might have returned to town at once, but I did not—I lingered at Forest Lea through the next day. There were seals to affix to all the dead colonel's cabinets and drawers; .there were interviews with various personages, and commissions for Miss Blraslie, which filled up my time and gave me an excuse for postponing my departure. The truth was that I could not tear myself away. I had a Confession to make to Miss Branscombo which, j could ^not force uppn her in the flrst bpurs of her sprrow, and which nevertheless must be made. It was npt likely that the secret O j col. Brans' combe's Jast will would bo kept until the legitimate moment for Us revelation; the executor, the rector, must get upon bis instructions, one of which w»3 to exclude Mr. ptoarlea Prangcompe from ike bouse. I might perhaps, ever being better. All the rest of us have long since given him up." "Miss Branscombe is attached to her cousin?" I ventured. "They have been :ike brother and sister, you know," Miss ElMsllo replied quietly. "Nona cannot give him up. But there Is the dinner bell." She seemed glad to change the conversation, I thought. Miss Branscombe did not appear at the dinner table. The evening was still wet, but close and sultry. Miss EluisHe and I took tea together In the large drawing room, which looked so empty and desolate now; and, while the gentle old lady babbled on of the stories of the house, I sat just behind tho lace curtains at the open window, looking out over tho lawn toward the encircling belt of shrubbery. It was a dark moonless summer night, and late enough now for the shrubs to show blackly against the pale sky-line. I had quite lost the thread of Miss Elmslle's somewhat monotonous talk, dreaming as I was of many things, wltli a pervading sense of vague pain and unrest new to my experience, and duo perhaps to the melancholy scenes in which I had just taken part. Suddenly It seemed to me that a white shadow flitted across the bottom of the lawn toward the trees, and was lost in the darkness. Was U fancy? I wondered, looking Intently toward the spot where the figure had disappeared. I was not subject to fancies of this kind, and I at once made up my mind to investigate the phenomenon, '" With an excuse to Miss Elinslie, I went to the hall for my overcoat, and, letting myself out by a side door, J made my way cautiously over Ue grass to the spot where I had seen—or fancied I bad seen—the white form appear an1 disappear, There w«9 nothing but the shadows |Ue tfpeg $$& *b> na^er of $he soft- falling raindrops 6n the green leaves So my eyes, keen and sure as 1 hac always considered tham, had playec me false. I turned back toward the house, taking this time one of two or three narrow winding paths within tne wood. My footsteps made no sound on the damp grass-grown ground. All a once the perfume of ft cigar was waftec toward me. Then I was not alone In the darkness; somebody else had fancy for an evening airing—one o: the gardeners or workmen, no doubt, on his way from some errand at the Hall. But the shrubberies lay In the front of the house, while the servants offices were all, as I knew, at the back, And, besides, my educated senses tolc me that that cigar was of tho finest quality, not likely to be smoked by any but a connoisseur. The rector was a non-smoker, and no other neighbor would, I knew, have the entree to the shrubbery. My curiosity was thoroughly roused, and the instinct of my profession enlisted In the discovery of the little mystery. Presently the sound of subdued voices—a man's and a woman's— reached my ears. Then I had not been fancy-tricked—some assignation of a tender nature had lured the flitting figure hltherward — a maid-servant from the house, no doubt. But the fine Havana? Well, that was no affair of mine; I would not at all events play the eavesdropper. It was In carrying out this laudable resolve that I turned Into another path —a shorter cut to the house, as I be lieved, in my slight knowledge of the place. It must however have brought me nearer to the lovers, for now tne manly voice was so raised that the subject, of what appeared to be an angry discussion only just missed meeting my ears, and sobs from the female were distinctly audible. The course of true love was not running smoothly, I concluded, as I retraced my steps. At this moment the sobs ceased and a feminine voice took up the response, pleading, remonstrant, and I was conscious of a sudden shock which brought me to a standstill. The sweet, low toiles were familiar to me—they were those of Nona Branscombe. Nona Branscombe, my ideal of innocence and womanly purity, my impersonation of Una, keeping a clandestine appointment at night—with her un cle's corpse hardly yet cold, too; hoodwinking her chaperon with a pretense of illness and overwhelming grief! Oh, the shame and the pity of it! Oh, the shame and the pity! I did not stop to ask myself why the blow should be such a crushing one to me—why a doubt of the innocence and goodness of Nona Branscombe should seem to make the world stand still, and plunge my whole outlook into darkness; I hurried blindly back to the house, losing myself half a dozen times among the tortuous shrubbery paths and shaking the raindrops from tha laden branches in heavy.showers as 1 went. I had reached the terrace on Which the side door by which I had quitted the house opened, my hand was on the lock, when another applicant for admittance glided out of the shadows and stood by my side. (To be continued.) DOG miOTS. Graphic Description of the Mongrels That Throng .Constantinople. I never saw so much mud, such unspeakable filthy streets and so many dogs as Constantinople can boast, but nowhere have I seen them described in a satisfactory way—so that you knew what to expect, I mean, says the Woman's Homo Companion. In the first place, they hardly look like dogs. They have woolly tails like sheep. Their eyes are dull, sleepy and utterly devoid of expression. Constantinople dogs have neither masters nor brains. No brains because no masters. Perhaps no masters because no brains. Nobody wants to adopt an idiot, They are, of course, mongrels of the most hopeless type. They are yellowish, with thick, short, woolly coats and much fatter than you expect to find them. They walk like a funeral procession. Never have I seen one frisk or even wag his tail. Everybody turns out for them. They sleep, from twelve to twenty of them, on a single pile of garbage, and never notice either men or each other unless a dog which lives in the next street trespasses. Then they eat him up, for they are jackals as well as dogs, and they are no more epicures than ostriches. They never .show interest in anything. They are blase. I saw some mother dogs asleep, with tiny puppies swarming over them like little fat rats, but the mothers paid no attention to them. Children seem to bore them quite as successfully as if they were women of fashion. Nature's Influence on Man, From the Chicago News: "Nature exercises a wonderful and mysterious influence over men. Certain plants are poisonous to some folks and medicine to others." "Yes, and my husband is always troubled with rheumatism when the grass begins to get tall upon our lawn." I'rompt Reaction, "Oh, that horrid cat!" exclaimed the tearful young wonian. "She has killed my beautiful canary! But the wings don't seem to be injured a pit. They will look swell on my hat, won"t they, though?"—Chicago Tribune. Evidence of Grefttue»s. From the Chicagp Record: "So many great geniuses have been' fat men." "Well, sometimes U takes genius t$ earn three §qu,are mjalg §, 4ay." f ALMAGrFS SMMON, 'MUSICINWORSHIP.-'SUNDAY'S SUBJECT. Neliertilnh 7: 67: "And They Had two Hundred Forty nod live Ringing Men and Singing: Women"—Children of the Heavenly King. (Copyright ISM by Louis Klopsch.) The best music has been rendered tinder trouble. The first duet that I know anything of was given by Paul and Silas when they sang praises to God and the prisoners heard them. The Scotch covenanters, hounded by the dogs of persecution, sang the psalms of David with more spirit than they have ever since been rendered. The captives in the text had music left in them, and I declare that if they could find, amid all their trials, two hundred and forty and five singing men and singing women, then In this day of gospel sunlight and free from all persecution there ought to be a great multitude of men and women willing to elng the praises of God. All our churches need arousal on this subject. Those who can sing must throw their souls into the exercise, and those who cannot sing must learn how, and it shall be heart to heart, voice to voice, hymn to hymn, anthem to anthem, and the music shall swell Jubilant with thanksgiving and tremulous with pardon. Have you ever noticed the construction of the human throat as Indicative of what God means us to do with it? In only an ordinary throat and lungs there are fourteen direct muscles and thirty indirect muscles that can produce a very great variety of sounds. What does that mean? It means that you should sing! Do you suppose that God, who gives us such a musical in- strument'as that, intends us to keep It shut? Suppose some great tyrant should get possession of the musical instruments of the'world, and should lock up the organ of Westminster Abbey, and the organ of Lucerne, and the organ at Haarlem, and the organ at Freiburg, and all th'o other great musical Instruments of the world—you would call such a man as that a monster; and yet you are more wicked if, with the human voice, a musical instrument of more wonderful adaptation than all the musical Instruments that man ever created, you shut It against the nralse of God. "Let those refuse to sing Who never knew our God; But children of the Heavenly King Should speak their joys abroad." * * * I congratulate the world and the church on the advancement made in this art—the Edinburgh societies for the improvement of music, the Swiss singing societies, the Exeter Hall concerts, the triennial musical convocation at Dusseldorf, Germany, and Birmingham, England; the conservatories of music at Munich and Leipsic, the Handel and Haydn and Harmonic and Mozart socleities of this country, the academies of music in New York, Brooklyn, Boston, Charleston, New Orleans, Chicago, and every city which has any enterprise. Now, my friends, how are we to decide what Is appropriate, especially for church music? There may be a great many differences of opinion. In some of the churches they prefer a trained choir; In others, the old-style pre- centor. In some places they prefer the melodeon, the harp, the cornet; in oilier places they think these things are the Invention of the devil. Some would have a musical instrument played BO loud you cannot stand it, and others would, have It played so soft you cannot hear It. Some think a musical Instrument ought to be played only In the Interstices of worship, and then with Indescribable softness, while others are not satisfied unless there be startling contrasts and staccato passages that make the audience jump, with great eyes and hair on end,as from a vision of the Witch of Endor. But, while there may be great varieties of opinion in regard to music, it seems to me that the general spirit of the Word of God indicates what ought to be the great characteristics of church music. And I remark, In the first place, a prominent characteristic ought to be adaptiveness to devotion. Music that may be appropriate for a concert hall or the opera bouse or the drawing room may be inappropriate jn church. Glees, madrigals, ballads, may be as Innocent as psalms in their places. But church music has only one design, and that is devotion, and that which comes from the toss, the swing and the display of an opera house is a hindrance to the worship. From such performances we go away saying: "What splendid execution!" "Did you ever hear such a soprano?" "Which of those solos did you like the better?" When, if he had been rightly wrought upon, we would have gone away saying: "Oh, how ray soul was lifted up In the presence of God while they were singing that ttrst liymn!" "I never had such rapturous views of Jesus Christ as my Savior us when they were singing that last do.\- ology." My friends, there Is an everlasting distinction, between music as an art and music as a help to devotion. Though a Schumann composed it, though a Mozart played It, though a Sontag sang it, away with. It if it does not make the heart better and honor Christ. Why shpuld wo rob the programmes of worldly gaiety when we have so many appropriate Bongs and tunes composed in our own day, as well as that magnificent inheritance p| church psajmody Which has come fragrant with, the devotions p£ Qthef gejjerations—tunes »o more wora ou,t tbao, they were when our great- climbed up on them from gfeurch, pew to glory? Pea) 1 old souls, ho* they uaed to sing? When they were cheerful our grandfathers and grandmothers used to sing "Colchester." When they were very medi tatlve, then the boarded meeting housa rang with "South Street" and "St. Edmund's." Were they struck through With great tenderness, they sang "Woodstock." Were they wrapped in visions of the glory of the church, they sang Zlon." Were they overborne with the love and glory of Christ, they sang "Ariel." And In those days there were certain tunes married to certain hymua, and they have lived In peace a great while, these two old people, and we have no right to divorce them. "What God hath joined together let no man put asunder." Born as we have been amid this great wealth of church music, augmented by the compositions of artists In our own day, we ought not to be tempted out of the sphere of Christian harmony and try to seek unconsecrated sounds. It ia absurd for a millionaire to steal. I remark also that correctness cught to be a characteristic of church music. While we all ought to take part in this service, with perhaps a few exceptions, we.ought at the same time to cultivate ourselves In this sacred art. God loves harmony and we ought to love it. There is no devotion In a howl or a yelp. In this day, when there are so many opportunities of high culture in this sacred art, I declare that those parents are guilty of neglect who let their sons and daughters grow up knowing nothing about music. In some of the European cathedrals the choir assembles every morning and every afternoon of every day the whole year to perfect themselves in this art, and shall we begrudge the half-hour we spend Friday- nights in the rehearsal of sacred sens for the Sabbath? Another characteristic muat be spirit and life. Music ought to rush from the audience like the water from a rock—clear, bright, sparkling. If all the other part of the church service is dull, do not have the music dull. With EO many thrilling things to sing about, away with all drawling and stupidity. There is nothing that makes me so nervous as to sit in a pulpit and look off on an audience with their eyes three-fourths closed, and their lips almost shut, mumbling the praises of God. During one of my journeys I preached to an audience of two or three thousand people, and all the music they made together did not equal one skylark! People do not sleep at a coronation; do not let us sleep when we come to a Savior's crowning. In order to a proper discharge of this duty, let us stand up, save as apo or weakness or fatigue excuse us. Seated in an easy pew we cannot do this duty half so well as when upright we throw our whole body into It. Lst our song be like an acclamation of victory. You have a right to sing; do not surrender your prerogative. If In the performance of your duty, or the attempt at It, you should lose your place in the musical scale and be one C below when you ought to be one C above, or you should come in half a bar behind, we will excuse you! S'ltl, It is better to do as Paul says, and sing "with the spirit and the understanding also." Again, I remark church music must bo congregational. This opportunity must be brought down within the range of the whole audience. A song, that the worshipers cannot sing Is of no more use to them than a sermon in Choctaw. What an easy kind of church It must be where the:• minister does all the preaching and the elders all the praying and the choir all the singing! There are but very few churches where there are"two hundred and forty and live singing men and singing women." In some churches it is almost considered a disturbance If a man let out his voice to full compass, and the people get up on tiptoe and look over between the spring hats and wonder what that man Is making all that noise about. In Syracuse, N. Y., in a Presbyterian church, th,=re was one member who came to me when I was the pastor of another church in that city, and told me his trouble—how that as he persisted in singing on the Sabbath day, a committee, made up of the ssssion and the choir, had come to ask him. if he would not just please to keep still! You have a right to slug. Jonathan Edwards used to set apart whole days for singing. Let us wake up to this duty. Let us sing alone, sing in our families, sing in our schools, sing in our churches. 1 want to rouse you to a unanimity in Christian song that has never yet been exhibited. Come, now, clear your throats and get ready for this duty, or you will never hear the end of this. I never shall forget hearing a Frenchman sing the "Marseillaise" on the Champs Elysees, Paris, just befo-e the battle of Sedan in 1870. I never saw such enthusiasm beforo or since. A si ho sang that national n!r, oh, how tha Frenchmen shouted! Have you ever n an English assemblage heard a band play "God Save the Quean"? If you have, you know something about tho enthusiasm of a national air. Now, I tell you that these songs we sing Sabbath by Sabbath are the national airs of the kingdom of heaven, and if you :lo not learn to sing them here, how do you ever expect to sing the song of Moses and the Lamb? I should not be surprised at all if some of the be=t anthems of Heaven were made up ot some of the best songs of earth. May 3od Increase our reverence for Chrisr tian psalmody, and keep us from disgracing It by pur indifference and frivolity. Wheu Cromwell's army Went into battle he .stood at th« head of n one day and gave out the loug-metev dox* ology to the tune of the "Old Hundredth," and that great host, company by company, regiment by regimes t, division by division, joined la the doxology: "Praise dod, from whom all blessings' flow; Praise Him, all creatures here below; Praise Him above, ye heavenly host- Praise Father, Son and Holy Ghost"' And while they sang they marched,and while they marched they fotight.f and while they fought they got the, victory, O, men and women of Jesus' Christ, let us go Into all our confltetsi singing the praises of God,'and then, Instead of falling back, as we often do, from defeat to defeat, we will be marching from victory to victory. "Gloria in Excelsls" is written over many organs. Would that by otir np- preclatlon of the goodness of God and the mercy of Christ and the grandeur of heaven, we could have "Gloria In Excelsls" written over all our Kouls. "Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost; as It was In the beginning, is now, and, ever shall be, world without end. Amen!" THE COMING CENSUS. On the first day of next June, census enumerators In the various districts assigned to them will start forth to count the population and to acquire such other information as congress has decreed shall be a part of the twelfth decennial census of the United .States. These enumerators will have two weeks in the cities and four weeks In the country In which to gather their information, and will count each person as belonging to the city or town of which he was a legal resident on June first. Whether this Is the best time In the year to take the census has long been in dispute. Previous to 1830, August first was tho date on which the count began. This shows that the summer vacation habit had not then developed. June is now almost too late. Most students of statistical science think April or May would be a better time, and Mr. Carroll D. Wright, in a census bill which he drafted a few years ago, made April first the date for beginning. Congress was conservative, however, and preferred to make no change; but by 1910 it is probable an. earlier month will be chosen. The objection to beginning the enumeration on June first comes from the cities, most of which are ambitious to show as great a growth as possible. When the census reports are not as favorable as had been expected, the cry of "inaccuracies in the census 1 is usually raised. It is doubtless true that the summer migration to the country does result in some errors and oversights In an enumeration begun in June. The Christmas holidays are a favorite time for census taking in Europe, but in America the heavy snows of the Northern states would make any winter month impracticable. Even in April the country roads in the extreme North are heavy with mud, and travel is almost impossible. The difficulty in fixing a date adapted to all parts of the great republic is a forcible reminder of the extent of its territory and the diversity of its climate and physical conditions. A Henry Clay Story. An old negro and his wife, who had found freedom through Clay's efforts, inado their home in Washington, where the old man, with the assistance of some white folks, turned an unused barn into a meeting-place for ligious services. He was Indefatigable In his e:orts to collect a sufficient fund to supply a pulpit, and NO en. One Sunday morning he was walking along Pennsylvania avenue, when he happened to meet the great Kentucky senator, "Well, Bob," said the senator, "what are you doing out so early Sunday morning?" "Sarvant, Marse Henry; sarvant, sah. You know de early bird ketches de worm." "Oh, you are worm-hunting, are you?" "Yes, Msrse Henry. I wants to ax of you, won't you help me some 'bout my little church." "No, Indeed," said the senator; ''I'll not give you a cent. I gave you something not long ago to help you with that church," "Yes, Marse Henry, dat's so, sah; you did indeed, gah, an' dat's a treasure laid up for you in hebben, sah." "Oh, it is, is it?" and Clay moved on. Turning suddenly, he said: "Come here, Bob, como here." Taking from his pocket a roll of bills, he continued: "Here is $30 I won at cards after sitting up all last night. Now, If you can reconcile the use of money gotten in that way to church purposes, take it along." Old Bob bowed and pulled his cap. "Sarvant, Marse Henry; thankee, i;ah. God do .move in a mys- terus way His wonder to perform! Thankee, Marse Henry; thanlcee, sah!" —The Argonaut. UulU Ilsr Nest <>u u Pulpit. Cincinnati Enquirer: Glenv;lle, W. Va.—At Vadis, this county, a member of the congregation found a bird's nest on the pulpit of the M, P. chuich containing five eggs. The uest was built of a variety of flowers that had been placed, on the graves of soldiers on Decoration Day. The bird is now setting, and a glass of water has been placed near the nest for the bird to. drink. The members aro greatly agl? tated and think the appearance of tb9 bird Is a token of death. JJoud of Frlt)ii<l«liip. "I never can forget Mabel Meadows, whom I went t.P school with," "Was she SP studious?" "No, but she always brought such lovely cucumber pickles ' luncheon." VI',',,

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