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'he broncho on whoso back she was eated had stopped to indulge in the irild west business of bucking and umpiug. and Tom imagined that he on hi hear terror stricken, shouts from he rider. It was all imagination, how-ver. When he had reached her side fter a furious burst of speed and •egged the privilege of saving her life, he quietly replied:“Please don’t interfere. I rather en-oy the change.”Tom Jones was nonplused, but he vaited. In the course of two or three lays Dutch Pete broke loose on one of iis quarterly jamborees. Dutch Pete :ept the doggery at Dead Man’s Cor-ters, and when he started out to clean ip the state he kept his two guns red lot Tom figured that it would be on he bills for Pete to bear Miss Gris-omb away into the mountains, and he lovered along the Fort Wingate road s her protecting angel. His figures urned out to be way off. Miss Gris-omb and Dutch Pete met one morning t the crossing of Lame Wolf creek, nd when the cowboy came up the error had his hands raised, and the irl had a gun on line with his eye, ihe thanked Mr. Jone9 very kindly for he interest he exhibited, but she really ouldn’t think of putting him to any articular trouble.Then Tom Jones prayed for a cloud-urst. Lame Wolf creek had its rise p in the mountains. At 9 o’clock of a ummer morning it might be a mere ivulet crossing the stage road. An our later a flood wave six feet high light be booming down as the result ‘ f a cloudburst up among the peaks, 'he burst came as prayed for. Miss rriscomb was on the west side of the reek when caught by the flood, and 11 escape seemed cut off when the owboy came tearing around Bull bend j rescue her. Three minutes later the irl was rescuing him. His broncho ot tangled up with a mass of drift- j rood and was drowned, and poor Tom ad to grab the tail of the girl’s horse nd take a tow to the bank.“You had better go home and change our clothes, and I hope you .will be lore careful in future.” was all the [k::!:s he got as the heiress rode away r.d ieft him to hang himself up to j r* I7 *:j .lines felt that he had made a i • of it thus far. but he hoped for .•••petit* to change things. In one . . s; cries he had read a cowboy“ The True Abraham Lincoln.”Athena Saved by Poetry.When (B. C. 404) after a heroic struggle Athens, the “City of the Violet Crown,” was captured by Lysandet* there were not wanting clamorous voices to urge that the city whose lust for empire had brought such woes on Greece ought to be laid level with the ground.The Spartan general at first lent a willing ear to his powerful allies, but while the council was still debating this momentous issue a plaintive voice was heard from the city walls chaining those noble lines from the “Electra” of Europides, that most human of the poets of Greece, in which the heroine contrasts her fallen lot with the splendid exploits of her father, who had dismantled the towers of Troy.Lysander bent his head and pondered on fortune’s cruel reverses. Triumphant as Agamemnon, who could tell but that he might be reserved for a fate as cruel? The lesson of moderation was accepted. Athens was saved.Milton has immortalized this dramatic event in one of his best known sonnets:The repeated air Of sad Electra's poet had the power To save the Athenian walls from ruin bare. _Lansaage Was Not Needed.“I don’t see how the count could propose to you when he can’t talk any English and you don’t speak French.”“Ob. it was very easy! We were sitting in the parlor. Pointing up at an oil painting of papa, the count took out a piece of paper and a pencil. Then he set down a dollar mark and after it placed a figure 1. Looking at me out of his big, deep, eloquent, lovely eyes, he began making ciphers after the dollar mark and the figure 1. When he had made four ciphers, which, with the other figure, meant $10,000, he stopped. I nodded my head for him to go on. Then he made another cipher. That meant $100,000. I nodded my head again. He made another, which raised it to $1,000,000. I nodded for him to go ahead. He put down another cipher, making it $10,000,000. Then I smiled and took the pencil from him, and he caught me in his arms and—and, oh, it was so lovely! It almost seems like a dream to think that In three weeks I shall ba a real CQuntWfc’WaiMgO Bee-wfi-HenUk ■_HHHI I ________I.....
Newspaper Details
Durham Chronical and Grey County Advertiser
Durham, Ontario, CA
Thu, Aug 27, 1903
Page 6
Full Page
Clipped by
Anonymous
CA 21 Apr 2025
Other Publications Near Durham, Ontario
Durham Review
Durham Grey Review
Durham Chronical and Grey County Advertiser
