The Florence daily times. [volume] (Florence, S.C.) 1894-1925, May 23, 1898, Image 2

Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page. It is also available as plain text as well as XML.

■ i w LISTEN TO YOURSELF. Ab. teacher, let me bear you teach ; You bare brave words from olden seers. The lore of thoee long-bearded men Of all the far-off yean; The gray, old thoughts of gray old men Beneath the Aslan stan. Brought safe by faith through clashing yean Of unremembered wan. And you have read the huddled tomes Of many an alcored shelf But have you stood beneath the stan And listened to yourself ? Ah, teacher, let me bear you teach ; You at old sage's feet have sat; Know you the man within yonr coat, The man beneath your hat? Yon know the thoughts that shaped the world, From far-off centuries blown ; What says the man who talks with thee When thou art all alone ? Why should I listen to a man who listens at the alcoved shelf? Man, let me hear a living man Who listens to himself. --Sam Walter Foss. r l. L j!)l A&L jftl JBk. 1 A Balaclava Hero. The head of an ogre croncbing for possible victims could have looked no less grim than the huge, squat work- house standing back from the road. Tall iron railings encircled it like a collar of spikes, and a one-windowed porter’s lodge blinked banefully at passers-by. A weary old man helped himself along with the aid of a stick. He etraightened his figure when he reached the lodge and seemed to hesi late while he looked at the building with dim, weak eyes, and the rushing wind fluttered his clothes like rags on a scarecrow. He made several steps forward, then retreated. As he straightened himself to walk,three medals for valor jingled loosely on his shrunken breast. He glanced round nervonsly. There was no one to watch. He was only a hero, and he hesitated on the threshold «f the workhouse. He had braved the Kussian camion and had slipped down a rope at Lucknow into a ruck of freu- xied sepoys. Why should he hesi tate? April rain began to pelter down fit fully. He pulled his worn coat closer over him and strode forward with final resolution. On the steps of the workhouse he 'turned to get a last furtive glance at the outer world. As the sun leaped from behind a cloud it glittered on the medals on his breast. in the lodge a sqnare-jowled man, with hard, straight creases in his sul len face, was tapping abstractedly on an old desk with an enormous key. To an imaginative mind he would have served as an admirable miniature por trait of the workhouse itself. “Name?” he said,projecting himself toward a big book. “James Hedferu, late of the Tenth Hlack Watch,” answered the old man. James Kedfern was past work and •jplaineil this to the governor,.jv-ho, promptly ordered him to break a'/’tn- dredweight of stone as a preliminary canter; this was probably to take the freshness out of him and to disillusion him as to his incapacity for work. Kedfern was locked in a cell fur nished with great jagged lumps of stone, and it was his compulsory duty to break them into pieces small enough to ]mss through a grating in the wall. The old man toiled hour after hour, but his weak blows seemed to he rather caressing the stone than break ing it. At length, in the afternoon, he fell forward over his hammer and the jagged stones that littered the fioor. “Hello!” said the sqnare-jowled warder, opening the door. “None of this, yer know. This ain't a ladies’ boudoir. This ain’t a ” He jerked the old man face up. His features were cut with the jagged stone.aud hlack lines of hunger ringed bis eyes. When the warder, by twirling Red- fern’s hand round and round and by pinching his arm,had satisfied himself that there was no shamming, the old man was removed to the infirmary. He was a very light burden, and a stalwart casual slung him over his ahonlder and carried him offj&untilyy like a sack of flour. When he came to, the doctor ordered him boiled eggs and a nourishing diet for a day or two. A card to this effect was hung over his bed with string. A pauper in the next bed. who suffered from epileptic fits, anathematized the old man gar rulously. The boiled eggs seemed particularly to rouse his ire. Every time the warder passed to the other cud of the long room he would lift himself on his elbow and scream across the intervening space: “B'iled eggs! yah!” He put such an amount of con demnation into this phrase that the other patients took up the matter and by muttered and disjointed conversa tion arrived at the opinion that the old soldier was a parlous ruffian, a presumer on generosity, an interloper iiud a thief. In three days the doctor certified that Kedfern was able to leave his bed, and the old man meekly rose and hnddled his painful limbs into his garments. Kedfern went into the office of the ■quare-faced warder, who said that he must return to breaking stones or leave the house. There was to he a meeting of the guardiaus that after noon, however, and he had the option of applying to them for lighter work. The square-faced man took out of his desk the three medals which Ked fern had been obliged to temporarily surrender on his entrance. “They ain’t bad medals, are they?” said the square-faced man. “I sup pose they are worth five hob apiece?” “They are worth more than that to me,” said Kedfern. “Wouldn’t seirem,then,I suppose?” said the warder. “No, I wouldn’t sell them for any thing; they are the only things I have left to remind me that I’ve been a sol dier!” “But they ain’t much good to yer now, yer know,” said the warder. “Look ’ere; I’ll offer yer a bargain. You ain’t got no reg’lar rights to stop in this workus, hut if you’ll make me a present of these ere medals I’ll see as they don’t chuck von out yet a while.” If he had said the same thing JO years before, Kedfern would probably have broken some of the hones in his thievish body. As it was he said: “Oh,no;yon must give me my medals. I must have them on when I die; you can have them after—you can have them after. I am the last of the old regiment. When I die they’ll all be gone. I must have my medals when I die; they wouldn’t take me hack in the regiment. If I parted with them the colonel would say: ’Kedfern, where are your medals?’ Then I should he turned out of my regiment. Yes, I must wear my medals.” The old fellow had muttered these last words as though to himself. It was clear that his weakness had ren dered him slightly delirious. “Well,” said the warder, “I’ll save them for you, shall I?” Then, with out further ado, he slipped them, rib bons and all, into his pocket. , The moment he did this his urbanity vanished,and he resumed his ordinary manner. “Come, get out of here and get to work! Don’t try to come that old-age dodge on me!" He.called another warder, who took Kedfern in hand and jogged him along toward the skqie-breaking cells. This time Redfern’s stock of stones had been reduced to half; hut when he was locked in and told to go to work he could not even raise the heavy hammer above his head. Two hours later, when the warder came to summon him before the meet ing of the guardiaus, he was still sit ting there, his thin face gray with suffering, and the long scar placed on his cheek by the sabre of a Russian at Alma stood ont white and ugly. It was the mark of a blow he had re ceived for his country. The warder reached forward and struck him over the shoulder with a stick. “I wish you would not hit me,” said Kedfern. “I’ll do w hat you tell me, hut you see I couldn’t break the stones, I was so tired.” “Oh, yes; we know all about that!” retorted the warder; “we have had some of your sort before. If you ask me,you’ll just have to pop out of here ns soon as the guardians get their eyes on you.” The warder was not supposed to know that Kedfern was a man who had been mentioned three times in despatches from the seat of war. He was not conscious that the medals he then had in his pocket were worth more than the paltry shillings they would bring at a pawnshop. So he forced Kedfern roughly for- ward toward the council chamber of gentlemen who were waiting to decide w kether this pauper was to he allowed to subsist on the spare bounty of (heir parish or even to he cast into the streets to die of hunger. The room in which the guardians sat was well furnished and lighted, and 18 dignified gentlemen sat to the right and left of a fat, gray-haired chairman. Kedfern stood before the table of the chairman, who questioned him as to his place of birth. “Why, you don’t belong to this par ish at all!” he' said, in feigned amaze- bfrut. This was a signal for four pompous, gentlemen to enter violent and indig nant protest against such a pernicious state of affairs. They characterized Kedferu's action in coining there as criminal beyond measure. The fact that he entered the work- house as a “casual” and then, by art-f ful trickery,sought to live in ease and luxury at the expense of the rate-pay ers of that borough, filled them with horror. As they uttered these denunciations they looked meaningly at one long haired and one spectacled reporter, wBo had exchanged winks and were scratching down insane hieroglyphics at the top of their speed. The old man’s wits at once left him. Ho seemed to conceive that he had been guilty of a hideous piece of de ception. He answered the other meek peni- sor questions with au air tence. “Have you no family to look after you?” “Yes,” answered the old man; *T have a son, but I have pot seen him for more than 20 years. He was a fine lad. At Alma the selonel said to me, after I had saved Us life: 'Pri vate Kedfern, how shalll reward you? You may ask me anything, and I will do it for yon.’ ‘Look After my son,’ I said, ‘if you would b# so kind. He has no mother, and he h a fine boy. ’ “When the colonel fame back he took my boy. I used tiwrite to the lad, bnt I got np into northern Can ada, and I lost the habit of writing. When I came back, an old man, to look for the boy, I could not find him. My old colonel is dead. But if my boy is alive and hears that his old father is here, he’d take him away —yes, he’d take him sway. But I can’t find him,” went op the old man. “He was only five years old when I saw him last. He would not know me now if he saw me. ” “Oh, we don’t want any of those rt of tales here!” said the guardian. “Either you have a family to support you or have not. If y<Ju have, they must take you out of here and look after yon. If yon have not, you must turn out and chance your luck. You are only 75; you ought to work for your living! You look big enough. Look at me. I am not so big as yon —a hit fatter, perhqpg-and I work every day of my life.” He went into a comfortable office for au hour or two every day; the rest of his time he spent in eating or in sleeping, preparatory to eating more. The guardiaus all pretended to dis believe Redfern’s story about his son, and finally, on the evidence of the warder, who testified that the old man was lazy and good-for-nothing, they gave him two hours in which to leave the workhouse. Bedfern’s face was gray with suffer ing, and shooting pains from an old wound in his shoulder caused him agony. His knees trembled visibly, and his eyes grew dim and restless. He summoned strength at last to ask the guardians if he might have back the medals that had been taken from him. However, as the warder swore that he had never seen the medals, which at that very moment were resting in his pockets, the virtuons, well-fed guardians of the poor ordered the.old man indignantly from their presence. He triert to protest, .but the warder scowled furiously at Mim and pinched Ivih arm fuiJpm, to^nm Then Kenlerafs we3Jness~ov5rcSme him. He pitched kiftavily forward to the floor. He was taken to the infir mary again, and the doctor said that in a few hours he would he well enough to go ont. When the old man came to he saw the warder directing the scrubbing and cleaning of the w ard with unusual care, while women jumpers were fas tening up fresh curtains to the win dows. There was au air of bustle and preparation about the room such as he had never noticed before. A warder, noticing that he was awake, ordered him to get off the bed and smarten himself np. The pauper told him that Captain Armitage and his young wife were coming to look over the workhouse. The captain was a fine young fellow,and he owned most of the land round that part. Kedfern listened to the information listlessly, for he was too ill'to take a keen interest in anything, and the prosjrect of his expulsion from the workhouse weighed on his mind. He was too jraralyzed to contemplate any thing hut that in an hour or two he, a soldier, too weak to work, would be cast out into the wor}d friendless and without hope. All the panpers whispered incessant ly the name of Captain Armitage, and at last something in its sound awoke the old man’s memory. “Armitage—Armitage? Why, that was my old colonel’s name,” he said. “Ah, hut this is a young man, and my colonel is dead. Yes, he is dead; I shall he dead soon. I shall hear him say: ‘Kedfern, you have been men tioned again in the despatches.’ Then he’ll say—yes,he’ll say”—the old man felt nervously over the breast of his coat—“he’ll say: ‘Kedfern,where are yonr medals?’ Yes, I must have my medals.” He tried to raise himself from the bed on which he was sitting, bnt the weakness held him prisoner. Presently a carriage came through the great gate at the entrance to the workhouse. At last a gentleman, tall and handsome, entered the room with a lady—a young lady, very little more than a girl, on his arm. Hhe looked about her compassionately. But her eyes wandered back incessantly to the features of the strong man by her side, who in his turn looked down at her smilingly and with abounding love and affection. This happy, joyous conplc seemed like a glimpse of a happier world to the wretched beings whose lives were ending between the grim walls of the workhouse. As the captain and his beautiful young wife came to each bed they ex changed words of comfort with the oc cupant. At last they drew near the bed on which Bedfern sat, fully dressed, his hands clasped together and his eyes bent dreamily on the floor. The little lady walking by the cap tain’s side, with a look at her hus band, stepped forward and touched his hand softly. He started and glanced np. Captain Armitage noticed the cat on his cheek. “How did you get that scar?” he said. “I was a soldier,” replied the old man. “I got it at Alma.” “Why, my husband’s father was at Alma,and so was mine!” said the little lady. “Tell us about it, can you?” Her eyes were infinitely tender as she gazed on the features of the bat tered and worn-ont warrior. Then the old man told his story. Captain Armitage was bending over him, deeply interested. Suddenly he gave a start and, dropping on one knee, took the old man’s hand in his. “Is your name Kedfern?” he said. ‘ ‘Yes, ’’answered the old man, “James Kedfern.” Captain Armitage did not rise from his knee. He held out his hand to his wife and,drawing her toward him, placed her hand in that of the old man. “Maude,” he said, slowly, “this is my father.” Then the beautiful girl bent over and kissed the old man on the lips. When James Kedfern had swallowed a dose of brandy, which the square- faced warder brought with much promptitude and politeness, Captain Redferu-Armitage, who had adopted the latter name when he married Col onel Armitage’s daughter, explained everything to him. “Yes, you are my father. I have searched for yon for years, but now that we have found you we will never leave you.” Then Captain Armitage and his beautiful wife gave old James Kedfern an arm each, and the three walked down the ward out of the workhouse. At the gate the sqnare-jowled warder hurried up and handed the old man his medals. Captain Armitage’s wife pinned them on the old man’s coat, and they stepped into the carriage. “Where to, sir?” asked the foot man. “Home!” answered the young man. —Answers. The Vitality of the Turku. One of Reuter’s special service of ficials states that he has paid sevefal visits to the hospital in which are being treated many Turkish warriors and that he was struck by the warlike spirit of the wounded and the fre quency with which they asked the doctors: “Do you think I shall he well in time for the next battle?” These doctors are surprised by the wonderful vitality of the Turks. One man, who had had his stomach pene trated by a bullet, not only kept his place in the ranks till the battle was over, but marched a distance of ten miles afterward. Another, with three wounds, two in the legs and one in the shoulder, continued ip the per formance of his regular duties for 24 hours after their reception and would jjrobahly have kept about until they healed had not an officer, happeiviug to notice his condition, told him to go to the hospital, and it was with great reluctance that the wounded soldier went. The doctors remark upon the rapid ity with which patients recover from wounds and attribute it to the abste mious lives led by the Turkish sol diers, who drink no wine, eat bnt little meat and take plenty of vege tables. They are examples of the say ing, “Prevention is better than cure.” By their manner of living they escape the effects from which grosser livers suffer when wounded. — Medical Times. Iiikhik* After Micling I>own Tike'* Peak. Joe Bradley, the Rocky mountain trapper, whose terrible slide on the' surface of an avalanche down Pike’s Peak last December was one of the most appaling adventures that ever, befell a unman being, lost his reason through the combined effects of his sufferings and fright. This fact did not appear in the detailed account of the thrilling slide printed at the time, bnt such appears to be the fact. The Trinidad (Col.). Republican is to hand, with the following reference to the hero of that wonderful adven ture : “Joe Bradley, the unfortunate pros pector, who rode an avalanche down Pike’s Peak on December 20, was ar rested atPloreuce as an escaped luna tic, and returned to the Pueblo asv- lum. The exposure undergone by Bradley, who was unconscious for sev eral hours, and whose members were badly frozen, caused his mind to give way, and he was admitted to the in sane asylum soon after his terrible experience on the Peak.” MORAL EFFECT OF PRUNES. Itountl th«* Kartli. The time required for a journey round the earth by a man walking day and nig^it, without resting, would he 428 days; an express train, 40 days; sound, at a medium temperature, 32 1-2 hours; a cannon hall, 21 3-4 hours; light, a little over one-tenth of a sec ond; and electricity, passing ovfer a copper wire, a little under one tenth of a second. ta Hava a Saathin# Nerve*—Useful as a Medicine. European authorities on dietetics are discussing the discovery of “» well-known physician of Chicago,” who claims that he has proved the prune to be • morel agent. He sere that he has made the prnne the snV* jeot of specie! study end has conduct ed • series of experiments with • view to testing the prone as a preventive of crime. At oee time connected with • school for the reform of unruly boys who had rebelled against all former attempts to civilize their conscience, * he fed them for a week once a day,! and at the end of that time they were mild-mannered and bidable. The prnne, he claims, has a .certain medi cinal property which acta directly on the nervons system, which is where the evil passions have their seat. However good the physician may make his claim, one thing is certain, that the prune in Germany has been' a household medicine for the last half century. There is daily at the dis posal of the members of the family a stone jar of very nicely cooked prunes, from which the household eat a few at any time in the day, dipping into it, as one may say, as a lady in France does her ornamented box holding sugared almonds. It is well to know at a time when there is so much grip in Chicago that prunes made into a drink are very good food and medicine for the patient. They are prepared for medi cal practice and nnrsing thus: They most be of a good (but not “fancy”) - quality, washed in a sieve under run ning water. Then put them in a basin and cover with cooled boiled water closed from air and dnst, allow ing them to stand until swollen. Then cover them tight in the same basin and let them simmer for three hours. They will be sweet enough. The prune drink for fever is made in the same way, hut to every pint of prunes a qnart of boiled water should be added and they should be allowed to simmer to rags. Strain and then give the patient to drink. Lemon juice may be added if desired.—Chi cago Times. Toad* at Dinner. The toad does not take dead or mo tionless food, says the Popular Science Monthly. Only living and moving insects, centipedes, etc., are devoured, while worms and other larvae dis turbed by their hopping are safe so long as they remain curled np; but as soon as they move they are captured. The toad’s tongue, its only organ for seizing food, is soft, extensile, at tached in front bnt free behind, and is covered with a glutinous substance that adheres firmly to the food seized. So rapid is the motion of this weapon that a careful watch is necessary in order to see the animal feed. ' At night, soon after sunset, or even be fore on cool evenings, the toad emerges from its shelter and slowly hops about in search of food. Something of a regular beat is covered by these ani mals, whose sense of locality is strong. In the country this beat includes for age along the roadside, into gardens and cnltivated fields, and wherever insect food is abundant and grass or other thick herbage does not interfere ‘with getting about. In cities and suburban villages the lawns, walks and spots beneath the electric lamps are favorite hunting grounds. At Amherst, Mass., Mr. A. H. Kirkland, from whose paper we derive these ob servations, once coanted eight large, well-fed toads seated under an arc light and actively engaged in de vouring the insects which, deprived of wings, fell from the lamp above. At Malden, Mass., a colony of ahont half a dozen toads sally forth on summer evenings from under the piazza of a citizen’s house, go down the walk, cross the street and take up their stji- tions under the arc lamp, where they feed upon the fallen insects till the current is turned off, when they re turn to their accnstomed shelter.* The First Real Bicycle. Frank H. Vizetelly, in St. Nicho las, tells “The Story of the Wheel.” After describing the Draisine, which came into nse in 1816, and was named after its inventor, Mr. Vizetelly says: In 1818, Dennis Johnsoti, an Eng lish coachmaker, made the Draisine lighter, and provided it with an elbow and body rest, decidedly improving the vehicle. Further changes made by Louis Gompertz, in 1821, enabled the rider to propel this vehicle with his hands, hut he still had to keep himself upright by the use of his feet and legs. A cogged wheel fixed to the side of the front hub, and a gear ing moved by a lever were the means of driving the wheel, and the lever also did service as a steering bar. So popular did the Draisine become that forms of it continued in nse until 1855, bnt the later form was built of iron instead of wood. This changa was brought about by an English con tractor named Knight, who was so pleased by the new way of traveling while visiting the continent, that he thought of using the cheaper iron of his own country for making the Drai- sine. Shortly after it came to Eng land this machint was changed from the crude and heavy wheel of Baron Drais von Seuerbron; it became a , light, elegant, and reliable machine, i capable of being skillfully ridden.