The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa on September 22, 1897 · Page 6
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The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa · Page 6

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UFPEK DU8 MOINESi ALGONA* HTOA. WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 22<J|9T. ' »- — . — »-x- * • t. + f*» tr"z • *• " # INTERNATIONAL IN»E«8 ASSOCIATION. CHAPTER XXV. "NCE more, then. 1 set foot on my native land. It v/ar, about the F.wond week in November, and Pearl and I were alone. I stood in silence for a few moments outside the docks, to draw what seemer to me to be the breath of fro?dom. All our companions had gone their several ways to see relatives and friends who had believed them to bo fk-ad. Even Tom Wren hnd left us. He had two sisters in Devon, to \vhom it was right he should K<> without delay; but it was only by strong persuasion that he was imhicert to leave his fairy Pearl, and it was arranged that, he should come ».o us at Christmas, wherever we might happen to be. "And this is London!" said Pearl, gazing about her in wonder. "Mother used often to speak of it. Daddy, I shouldn't like to be left here alone. It's very large, isn't it? And to think that, of all the people in it, you are the only friend I have!" TLe fair young creature ."lung to n;y arm wistfully and fondly. "You are not the only one, dear child." said I. "When I was here last, tny old mother was alive. I doubt, alas! if she be alive now. If she is gone, I nlsc shall be without a friend but my littles Pearl. Well, dear child, we vill rub along together, you and I. You have no father or mother of your ov.-n, and I have no wife and child." "Am 1 not your child?" asked Pearl, ooftly. "Never say that again, Daddy Beer-reft! I will be a good child to you; and what father have I but you, my dear? You are not tired of me, are you? We are going to live here all our lives, you say. Say. 'Welcome to our home, dear daughter.' " I said the words, and kissed her in tin- streets—I didn't mind the people looking. They would have '.iked to have been in my place, I do not doubt. But there- was no time to losa. There wore certain things to be soon to without delay. The first was, to inquire after my mother. Away, then, we rat- lied to Brixton. 1 directed the driver to stop within half a mile of the place, wishing to walk thither, as 1 used to do in the old days. What varied c-mo- tions agitated me as Pearl find I •walked toward the familiar spot where the sign of "Beecroft, Mariner," used to stand! My little girl saw that I •was agitated, and did not disturb the current of my thoughts, except l-y a I'ond and sympathizing pressure of the arm. Great changes had taken place. New streets had been formed; now houses had been built.; old landmarks had .disappeared. But when I turned tho lane in which our cottage used to stand, 1 saw with delight that it was still there; and as surely as I lived, the fondly remembered device of "Beecroft. Mariner," was over the parlor window. I paused a while. "I have two strong wishes, my dear," I said. "Yes, daddy," said she. "The first is, to find my dear o!d mother alive. The second is, that we may be able to live in that cottage." "Why daddy," she said, "your name is over it! is it yours, then?" "No, dear child; but my father lived in it before me, and I passed there the happiest years of my life. You uuiftn't question me yet, my little -.laughter. Out of charily and mercy to one I loved most dearly, I have never spoken of it. to you. My wounds open afresh as I giize upon the place where I drew my lirst breath. Come." 1 knocked at the door of the cottag?, an elderly woman appeared. I hardly dared to hope that my mother would have answered me; but the disappointment, for which I ought to have been fully prepared, gave me a great shock, and I could scarcely find my voice. "Forgive, me," I said presently; "my name is Beecroft." "Indeed!" said the woman, glancing in some surprise at the device of shells above the window. "Not that Beecroft?" "Beecroft, Mariner, was my father," I replied. "I was born here, and I have just returned to my native land after an'absence of many years." "Perhaps you and the young lady would like to walk in," said the civil woman. I did not require n second invitation. Much of the old furniture was; there; many of the old shells also. My eyes filled with tears as I gazed on the dear mementoes, I entered into particulars with the woman, who informed me that she and her husband had lived in the cottage for ten years; that tho last tenant, an old woman, whose name, she said, was the same as my own, had fallen into poverty, and iiad been sold off, the landlord of the house buying the the furniture himself, and letting the place ready furnished. I asked after my mother, l>ut the woman could give me no information of her. She )iad left the neighborhood when she was turned out of the house, and had not been seen in it since. Upon further inquiry, I ascertained that there would be no difficulty iu obtaining possession of tlie cottage, providing I was willing to l4$ $ certain sum of money to hev hus- liand. To be brief, I concluded, the »j'j$»gerflent the sianie day, $nd tiie morning I took passegsion^y con- «f the Ulttdjoi'd, o{ wh-Qjiai p«»'« factory. I am sure, to him. and quite as satisfactory to me. Had he asked me double the sum he named. I would have given it willingly. So there I was once more in the old house at home. To have obtained one of my wishes thus easily was an omen of good luck. "You are mistress here . my deal- child," I said to Pearl: and I explained to her how everything used to be arranged in the old times, and what pride we took in the shells which my father and I had brought home. She listened attentively, as though she was learning a. lesson, and after giving me a dozen kisses, became excitedly and delightfully busy. I told her to engage a girl to assist her in the cottage. and upon her saying she did not want one, I replied that, it was necessary, as 1 should be a great deal away from home for a few days. "I must find my mother, Pearl," I said. "I must not lose an hour.'" But my inquiries appeared likely to lead to no satisfactory result, until an old man told me that I might learn something if I could find the address of a woman who had lived in the neighborhood for a few weeks some eight or nine years ago, he thought, and who got her living by her needle. "Or tried to get her living, I should ray," he add^d in correction, "and didn't succeed. Leastways, no one about here would employ her, and she was out of favor with everybody." "For what reason?" I inquired. "You had better ask the woman," said the man; "I'm not good at tittle- tattling." I did not follow his advice, having had enough in my time of gossiping women's tongues. I did a more sensible thing. I went at once to a private detective, and placed the matter in his hands, promising to reward him liberally if he succeeded. Of my mother I gave full particulars; of the woman who would be likely to give information of her I could supply him only with the slight clue which I had gained from the old man. "Leave it to me," said he; "I'll find one or both in three days, if they're to be found at all." 1 had no doubt but that this was a boast; yet, for once a boaster's word was good. He came to me on the night of the third day. Pearl and I were sitting in the little parlor at Brixton. It was then ten o'clock at night, and a heavy November fog enveloped the streets in darkness. Inside it was bright enough. A cheerful fire was blazing, and the room was warm and cozy. Everything in the house was arranged by my little maid's hands exactly as it used to be when I was a boy. Not a word referring to the past dropped from my lips but was treasured up by Pearl, and, if practicable, acted upon. She had commenced the practice of reading aloud to me of a night, and she was thus occupied on this night, when I suddenly desired her to read no more. The story jarred upon mo; it appeared to me to have been written but with one purpose in view— to show tho character of woman in its vainest and most frivolous light. "You don't like it," said Pearl; "neither do I. Could anything make you believe that women are as bad as the author makes out?" I sighed as I replied, "My experiences of women would have turned me utterly against them but for you, my dear, and for tho memory of my unselfish old mother, who lovrd me too well, and whom 1 repaid with harshness and ingratitude." As 1 spoke it striK'k me as strange that it was; in this vory parlor Unit. I had come into close and loving connection with the women who played an active part in my life. Hero hud J enjoyed the sweetness of a fond mother's love; here had I seen Mabel for i he. lirst time as a child; and oftc-;i (•afterward, when she had grown into 1 a fair beautiful woman; here had I learned how she had betrayed me; and here I now sat with Pearl, who had in a measure restored my faith, and brought comfort to my bruised heart. II was on Mabel as a child that my thoughts chiefly dwelt, and on the happy time when 1 used to speak to her of the voices of the shells. Could I hear them nosv, what would they say to me? 1 planed one to my ear, and with closed eyes listened to the swecl, confused murmur. There was harmony in it, but no design; presently, however, came something that was clear to me. In the midst of the soft murmur a few words of Mabel's favorite song shaped themselves, and I heard her sweet and false voice singing to me. "In faith abiding, I'll still be true." Ah, me! In thoso words she had sworn to be faithful to me. How had that vow been kept? CHAPTER XXVI. ? AROUSED myself from my reverie, and my heart throbbed violently as my gaze fell upon Pearl, who was kneeling before the tire, looking with tender love into my face. Surely Jt must be a continuation (jf my dream that caused me for w women! to believe it .Was Mabel herself whose eyes met nij/e! So did she look as I opened ray avaw to, fcer, a? J ppe»ea to pea: upon fny knee, embracing me. Wft were disturbed by a knock at the door. I went to the door, and the detective I had employed stood before me. "We have fotiad fcer," he said, curt- "My mother!" I cried. "No." he replied; "the other one." With glad eagerness Pearl handed me my cap. "Good night, dear child," I said, kissing her. "Go to bed at once, and do not open the door till you hear my voice. I may be out late." I waited outside the street door till I heard the key turned. "Good-night." I cried again. "Good-night, daddy," she called out: "I shall keep awake till you come home." "A pretty lass, that daughter of yours," said the detective, as we walked away. I did not undeceive him as to the relationship, but his remark m^dF a strange impression upon me. "Have we far to go?" I asked. "We had better ride. I think." said he. "We are going to Whitechapel." By the time we reached our destination it was nearly eleven o'clock. But few words were exchanged. My thoughts sufficiently occupied me, and my companion was not disposed to be loquacious. Yet I observed him occasionally by the dim light of a street lamp regarding me with a curious and thoughtful observance. We stopped at the corner of a narrow street. "Best not drive down here," said the detective. I'm fond of peace and quietness." I desired the cabman to wait for us and we turned into the street. "A miserable place for a woman tc live in," I observed, noticing the sign? of squallor aud poverty around us. He shrugged his shoulders; he was more used to the signs than I. We paused before one of the meanest of all the mean looking houses. "This is the place." said the detective. "The woman you want lives on the third floor—in the garret, in fact. I'll stop below. You may have something private to say to her." lie gave me some loose matches, for the passage and staircase were in total darkness. I made up my way slowly to the top of the house, never dreaming of what in the next few minutes would be revealed to me. There was no choice of doors to knock at when I reached the top landing, for there was but one. At this I knocked, and a faint voice desired me to enter. It was a large room, with a sloping ceiling. At the farther end sat a woman, working with her needle. The only light in the room was supplied by one thin candle, and my heart was stirred by pity at the misery of the apartment, and at the struggle for bare subsistence which that and the aspect of the woman presented. "I hope you will excuse the intrusion," 1 said, "at this late hour; but I have been directed here in the hope that you may be able to give me some information of my mother, whom 1 have not seen for years, and of whom I um in search." The woman rose when I commenced to speak, and stood with her hands pressed tightly to her bosom. I could not clearly distinguish her features in the gloom, but it was evident she was strongly agitated. ; "Do not be afraid of me," I continued. "I have not come to harm you in any way. I am a sailor, and have been home but a few days. It is my mother I am in search of. Her name i.s Beecroft." ' The woman staggered toward ma and fell at my feet. Great God! it. was cither Mabel's white and fear-struck face, or the face of a spirit, that my eyes rested on as I looked down. We gazed at each other in terror for full a minute, and it was I who broke the silence. "Iu the name of God," I asked, "who arc: you?" "I am Mabel," she gasped; "your wife. I believed you to be dead! Was it not you 1 suw on that terrible night in The Rising Sun?" (TO HE OONTI\rKI>.) NOTES 0* 1 THE WHEEL I, who raised bevseJf a»4 gat V J'lTversn Melioration. The father of u family nudged the old bachelor who stood beside him on tho car platform. The old bachelor knew what it meant. The father of u family \vns about to revert to the dreary old subject—his children. "1 wonder," he said, "why the boys of the present generation, are so much more perverse than the boys were when 1 was young? If 1 remember rightly, I usually did what my parents wanted me to do. What are you smiling about? What makes you think I didn't? You didn't say so? Of course you didn't says so, but your smile did. Well, boys are very different now, aren't they? Yes; they are. Of course they are. What do you know about it? That's all right. You needn't shake your head. There's nothing in it. Well, my youngest boy wouldn't re- syiond to the breakfast bell a few mornings ago. 1 went upstairs and told him to get up immediately. He's 10 years old and he defied me. He said he wouldn't get up; it was Saturday morning and no rc'.iool and he was going to stay in bed as long as he wanted to. How was that for tho spirit of '7o? But I settled him. 'All right,' says I, 'you stay right here in bed until your mother tells you that you can get up, but don't get up until she does.' Say, you should have seen him jump! He was iiUo his clothes in no time and at the breakfast table as soon as I was. I don't know what to make of that boy. He isn't a bit like me at his age—not a bit."—Cleveland Plain Dealer. MATTERS OF INTEREST TO DEVOTEES OF THE BICYCLE. A CuntlQuu't* 1'erforniHucp, Maudy—-Come on, SUas; it costs too much to eat in tbei place. Silas- Yes, 60 cents Is a Jot tev pay fer a dinner, but look how long we fcin. eat— tfo to 8 p'ciock, ket's go ID,— of fhe TTot-keM of the I~ A. W— Michael One of the rby»!cnl Marvel* of the Contnry — The Secession Blove- tnent I» Laugnlshlns. On* of the Worker*. NDIVIDUAL effort in a big organization seldom receives the credit to which it ir, entitled. In the New York city consulate, for instance, many of the hardest workers have never been heard of outside of the association, yet to many of these are due much of the success attained in different directions. One of these workers is Jacob A. King, who, as a member of several committees, has been untiring in his efforts to secure conveniences for the riding public, says the New York Press. Mr. King was born in New York city on January ai, 1871, and is a shining example of public school training, he having graduated from one of Father Knickerbocker's seats of learning when 13 years of age. Since that time he has been identified with'several prominent business firms, which enabled him to become thoroughly acquainted with various business methods and laid the foundation for the firm of which he Is now the head. When the League of American Wheelmen had but 4,000 members Mr. King became Identified with the organization, and has taken an active interest in its affairs ever since. Besides being a local consul for this city, he is chairman of the New York state division press committee, acting chairman of the streets, highways and guide board committees, and through his efforts many new members for the league have been obtained, aud a number of obnoxious and dangerous watering troughs' on Fifth avenue have been removed. He was one of the leaders in the movement that, eventually resulted in the board of aldermen ordering the repairing of a number of bad places in the city streets frequented by wheelmen, find he also had much to do with framing tho now bicycle ordinances. Mr. King was alno one of the pioneer members of thn Riverside Wheelmen, one of the oldest cycling organizations in the city. When that club held its first race meet at Manhattan Field in 389.1, in fact the first race meet ever held in New York, Mr. King as a member of the board of trustees, which position he held for several terms, was closely identified with its success. For a time he was prominent in the politics of the old Twenty-eighth Assembly district. He is a Republican of the first water. The league and the Riverside Wheelmen arc not the only organizations, however, that claimed Mr. King as a member, for he has a reputation of being a hard worker in many others. This year, however, lie succumbed to the repeated attacks of Cupid, and on June 1 married Miss Flora Sala, a very popular and talented young lady of Harlem. Homo attractions proved too strong, and one by one Mr. King resigned from all tho organizations of which he was a member, with the exception of the League of American Wheelmen. Having been identified with its phenomenal growth of thn i;ast fc-w years he was loth to discontinue the pleasant, although hard work, of making the league even greater, i-nd the wheelmen of New York ihe most widely benefited in any community of the country. year New York was some 10,000 to 12.000 in the lead; last week It was but 4,000 ahead, and at the present time it has an advantage of but 1,844. It Should be the aim of every patriotic wheelman in Pennsylvania to work for an increased membership from this time on. in order that the Keystone State may occupy the first position bo- fere the close of the year. A Physical Marvel. He is hardly more than a red-faced youngster, and he weighs 103 pounds, yet this "Jimmie" Michael can ride a bicycle with the swiftness of the wind. He has in his well trained muscles more power in proportion than a steam engine. "Jimmie" Michael is the world famous bicyclist who on June 17 reel<?d off 15 miles In 29 minutes and 12 seconds at the Charles River track, in Boston. A railroad train has made 70 miles an hour, or, in other .words, has traveled 111 feet and 2 inches in one second. The wheel which "Jimmie" Michael rode traversed 51 feet of track with every second. The diameter of the wheel of the bicycle is 28 inches. The drlvinrj wheel of a locomotive is five feet and a half in diameter. To drive a locomotive at the rate of CO miles an hour requires a steam pressure of 150 pounds to the square inch, or the application of 38,175 pounds of force to the piston ten times a second. The driving wheel would be making five revolutions a second. Nobody knows exactly the number of foot pounds wliicli this little giant of bi- eycledom applies to his racing wheel. That would be a matter of almost endless calculation. Allowance must be made for the length of the crank, the distance of the pedal from the axle, and the grade of the gear. ''.Jimmie" Michael in making the phenomenal run at Charles River track used a machine geared to 112. The front sprocket wheel seems out of all proportion to the • machine. It has 32 teeth, while the rear sprocket has eight teeth. Thi? Xot So Slow. The national meet of the League of American Wheelmen generally results in an increase of the membership of that organization, for there are many wheelmen who desire to tike part in JACOB A. KINO. such an affair that previously have not applied for membership, or having once been in the ranks, have dropped out. The meet recently held in thiy City resulted in the establishment of an entirely new record in this respect, as the next issue of the "Bulletin" will show, that at the closing of the week of August 18 there was a total of 3,040, as against 860 last year. Of this number the Pennsylvania division turned in 2,709, ihe largest list of applications ever sent in by one state in a single week since the league was organized. Among the recent applications for membership in the League of American Wheelmen Is the name of District Attorney Graham. The total membership of the League of American Wheelwen on August 13 was 96,130. Another very interesting point is that this materially reduces the difference In numbers between New York ana Pennsylvania. At the beginning of the JIMMIE MICHAEL. h:gh-geared wheel is no easy thing to set in 'motion. It is like riding your bicycle up a steep hill on a sandy road. When once "Jimmie" Michael has the machine going, however, friction and resistance are set at naught. His legs are like piston rods. He has the limbs of a trained athlete. He never seams to tire, and his endurance has never been kuo.vn to fail. Scceusloii Movement Lmijjuisliinff. It has leaked out that the wheelmen on the Pacif.c coast who openly defied the jurisdiction of the L. A. W. last spring and set out to run an independent cycling association are meeting with poor success. The rebellious racing contingent, including the well- known riders, Otto Zeigler, Jr., Allan Jones and C. R. Coulter, who severed their connection with the league by affiliating with the outlaw association, have already applied to the officers of the league for re-instatement. What disposition the racing board will make of the applications is not known, but it is felt that the league may be inclined to overlook the breach of rules by these riders in order to rob the independent association of three of its leading racing men. Numerically the independent organization on the coast is stronger than the L. A. W., but the latter is hopeful that the discord which seems to be spreading in that section will eventually result in the disruption of the "rebel" league. IIItH of -tar.liiK Ne\rg. L. A. Powell, of the New York A. C., has won twenty-two first prizes this season. Ponscarme, the French rider, has created a new amateur hour record at 30 miles, 717 yards. Promoters on the national circuit in tUe fall will be asked to place a class race, a handicap and an open on the programme to give all the circuit men an opportunity to share in the money. At the Sydenham (Eng.) bicycle track recently Platt-Betts broke the English records for from two to ten miles inclusive. He rode five miles in Sm. 53 4-5s.. and 10 miles in ISm. 2 2-5s. • New World'* Ret'onl. Charles Kraft, of the Bay City Wheelmen, made a new mark for L'O miles recently over the California Cycling club's official course. With the assistance of six tandems lie covered the triangular course in 48.50, lowering the previous coast record held by F. A. J3oze of San Francisco by one minute and twenty seconds, and McDonnell's world's record by two seconds. Howard Hall, author of the "Fatal Flower," which will be given by Robert Mantell, has jjiist finished another romantic drama in five acts, entitled "A Husband's Honor." The action of the play takes place in France during the- period of the Directory. Georgia Cayvan is living quietly in New York, and at present is waking no plans for her next season, npr will she until she gets a good '•I. fentlong. I." said the daughter of a newly n ln . n rrntic mre. -was caught out in t:j«, ,. yesterday and Vainen a tso S0 it •' n "Aiid." inld.the«lrl who Ws poor ^ iroud, -a *l^coni P !e±ion:-- ^ Upon the stomach and hni™i perpetrated by fflnltitudes of °- r ' judicious jjeople who, upon 1°' penencing the annoyance of constir,»fi *' In a slight degree, infiltrate thSr & with drenching evacnants. which enfeebU the intestinal membranes to a serbnTel tent, sometimes, even, superinducing rt t eatery and piles. Hostetter s e£m££ Bitters is the true snccedineum for th nostrums, since it is at once invieorAt- gentle and effectual. It also banishes dv K ' pepsia. malarial complaints, rheumatic" aud kidney trouble. """-inn, Sunflower seeds used as baiUn the in are said to be irresistable to rats. p Eilnonte Your Bnn-els With Canrareu TrP. d f. i."l b ?, r ",''' f ", rc wnMlpntlon forever I'ly, 111'. C. C. tail. dniKitlsts refund moucr. "*• The Hussions make a palatable from tho sap of o walnut tree. drink 100 Doses In a Is peculiar to and true •"» ^-i only of Hood's Sarsapa- DOfllG rilla, and is proof of its superior strength and economy. Thsre is more curativa power in a bottle of Hood's Sarsaparilia than in any other. Thia fact, with i'j unequalled record of cures, proves th 9 best medicine for all blood diseases is 's Sa p r aMr, a Tlie (Hit! True Blood Purifier. AH druggists. 51. best medicine for al Hood Hood's Pills ££U; WILL KEEP YOU DRY. Don't be fooled with a nackintosh or rubber coat. 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