North Carolina Newspapers

: . . ''• ' • I A • • . , • v ✓" HM THE ALAMANCE GLEANER VOL. LII. Jlz s>JKtucr«d irJic 7 Ir_ ■ > HE other day newspapers carried a brief Associated Press dispatch from New York —"A man believed to be Edward Farrow, seventy-one years old, a BR|B real estate operator of Plnewald, N. J., died of apoplexy today In Colum bus avenue."—just one of those brief chronicles of sudden death In the day's gist of news, and It was not until the "local follow-up" from a New Jersey city was added that It became more than that For the fol low-up recorded the fact that he was a West Point classmate of General Pershing, the founder of "Plnewald" which he had hoped to establish as a home for retired army officers and which has been the. subject of endless litigation with developers, the Inven tor of toxic gases and the gas grenade and author of many books on mili tary subjects, including "Farrow's Military Encyclopedia," a standard authority. There was also a brief mention of bla part In the Indian wars, but It was enough to recall to old-time army men ttirring events In the Pacific North *est, In the days of Chief Joseph and the Nez Perces, of Buffalo Horn and the Bannocks,, of Gen. O. O. Howard and Geri. Nelson A. Miles, but more particularly the story of young Lieut. Edward S. Farrow and his conquest °' the Sheepeater Indians, one of the most brilliant exploits in the history the United States army. Lieutenant Farrow was a native of Maryland and was appointed from that state to West Point, from which e was graduated as a second lieuten *nt June 14, 1878. He was immedi ately assigned to the Twenty-first in- and detailed to Fort Vancou- If r ' At the outbreak of the Perces war his company became Part of the army with which Gen. • O. Howard set out in pursuit of the D«rt' leS The yoQn B lieutenant took in the heart-breaking march of j °* ar d'a command over the rough trail, in the sharp little battle lfl De f Water on July 11 and 12, '' where his conspicuous bravery Oil o '"' r °nduct won for him special °" in dispatches by General * ari ', and In the pursuit to the end ■e campaign when Chief Joseph endered to Generals Howard and li, tfle B® 4 * Paw mountains in Montana. tam, the open,n K of the Nez Perces uZ?® Ca P t - S- G. Fisher, a fron • an, was ordered by Gen. How ■oek 1 enllst a company of 50 Ran . Uui'an scouts on the Fort Hall " u " n ' n Idaho. Associated with "amed r , WaB mother frontiersman •event ' ir(l 1111(1 Jac * Redington, a hi« tl , > ea r-old boy, wlio had left T *ntar ' ' n Massa chusetts to seek ad con the Far West - Kedington kxcl , " the original Boy Scout" he an T r 11 ,ioward In later years, and d*»tw, tlle young lieutenant were Unejv t" see some stirring service r a year or so later. One of the Bannock scouts was a young chief named Buffalo Horn, who had also served as a scout for General Miles In the Sioux war of 1870 and of whom a fellow-scout, the famous "Yellowstone Kelly" (Capt. Luther S. Kelly), once described as "one of the bravest In dians I have ever known." After the close of the Nez Perce war young Red ington became a newspaper reporter In San Francisco, and one of the sto ries which he wrote for his paper was a prophecy of a new Indian war. Lieutenant Farrow and Scout Red ington served together in the short Bannock and Piute war of 1878, and again the young lieutenant distin guished himself. Buffalo Horn was killed by a Piute scout in the service of the soldiers' In June, 1878, and the war virtually came to an end when Howard's troops captured the greater Crjpjgg part of the two hostile tribes Jn Au gust A part of them, however, suc ceeded in eluding the soldiers and re treated to the fastnesses of the Sal mon River mountains near the Seven Devils peaks. There they were Joined by renegades from other tribes, and during the following months, these Sheepeaters, as they became knowu because they subsisted principally up on the mountain sheep which were abundant in that region, Instituted a reign of terror In parts of Idaho which were ,Just beginning to open up to settlement. Early in 1879 General Howard or dered Lledtenant Farrow to enlist a company of Indian scouts, to form a detachment of picked men. selected for endurance and skill in marksman ship, and to proceed against these Sheepeaters and uny other hostile In dians that still remained in that part of the country. Farrow enlisted his scouts among the Umatilla and other friendly tribes, took a few of the beat marksmen from the different branches bf the service In the department of the Columbia and these with several civilian volunteers, including young Redington, composed the force with GRAHAM, IN, C., THURSDAY, OCTOBER 21, 1926. which he set out over some of tbs roughest on the North American continent to hunt down the enemy. In the meantime two other forces, commanded by Captains Bernard and Catley, were operating in that part of the country. • On July 29 Catley was defeated by the Indians who captured his pack train and all of his supplies and forced him to retreat. Upon learning of this Farrow cached his supplies and equipage and, living off the country, set out to Catley*s relief. After five days of terrific forced marches, he came up with Catley, left a few of his foot-sore men and horses and pushed on into the Salmon River mountains. , He was soon hot on the trail of the Indians. Captain Forse, who was sent out to reinforce Captain Catley, soon afterwards Joined forces with Captain Bernard, and late in August Bernard reported to General Howard that "Farrow (30 miles ahead of him) was pursuing the hostile Indians down the Middle Salmon Canon and had caused them to abandon all their lug gage." A little later Bernard report ed : "The country Is so rough that an imals cannot be got throngh It at all. All our stock except a few of Captain Foree's horses and the animals cap tured by Farrow are exhausted. Most of our horses and mules have given out and have-been shot." "It seemed so Impossible to capture these flying Indians who ran from peak to peak faster than the troops could follow," writes General Howard In his account of the campaign, "and realizing the Intense sufferings of the troops engaged, I at last sent orders for Bernard, If in his Judgment It was Impossible to do more than he had done, to leave the fearful country and distribute hlji forces to the posts wiiere they belonged. Bernard acted on this order, and with his own command proceeded southward to Boise." 8o upon Farrow descended the re sponsibility for the success of the campaign. The indefatigable young lieutenant abandoned most of bis bag gage and, when all of his horses final ly gave out, pressed on on foot Fi nally he cornered the Sheepeaters In their stronghold on the Middle Fork of the Salmon, and although realiz ing that defeat meant annihilation he boldly attacked. The result was the capture of the place and a precipitate retreat by the bostlles. In this stronghold Farrow's men found tons and tons of food which the Sheepeaters had gathered for win ter use and which the soldiers burned. Driven from what they had believed to be an Impregnable position and facing a hongry winter, ail that re mained for the Indians to do was to surrender. Then after a march of 62 days through deep |now over rugged mountains. Lieutenant Farrow reached the Columbia river with bis captives and delivered them to General How ard at Vancouver barracks as pris oners of war. WHEN THEIR LIPS MET By EFFIE SPOFFORTH (Copyright by W. Q. Chap man.) THE boy, mce back In his hall bedroom, threw himself down on the narrow bed and re mained there motionless, his eyes closed. Sometimes, when he came home from the warehouse he was physically inert like this. He was only twenty-one, and the contrast between the hopes with which he had gone to the great city and actuality was harder than the physical fatigue. He worked at twelve dollars a week, packing books for Vincent & Co., pub lishers. With a high school education and literary aspirations, he ought to be able to do something better than that. k "We'll give you a chance In the basement," Vincent had told him. "If you make good there an opportunity may,arise upstairs." "I'll take it," the boy had answered. At half-past seven the following morning the boy went to work. He had worked there for four months. He did not know that Vincent was trying him out, that there really would be a chance for him, first at clerical work and then If he proved efficient in a minor role among the literary staff of the publishing company. Vin cent had had his eye on him all the while, as was his way. He had asked the foreman of the department two o» three times if the boy was still there. Next month, perhaps, he would give himself the sincere pleasure of invit ing the boy to accept twenty dollars and assist Mr. Jones, the advertising manager, in a clerical capacity. Of all that the boy knew nothing. He only saw himself hammering nails into packing cases, among a crowd of Ignorant, and not high-minded asso ciates. And often he had thought of giving up and going back to the farm, to face the sneers of the neighbors, the silent reproaches of his father, and, worst of all, his mother's pity. Then temptation had come to him. There was a man named Dutton among the employees. Dutton hatf shown him friendliness, had won his confidence. "You're a fool, boy, to look forward to a life of this sort of work," he said. "There's easy money to be picked up In this city. Now listen to me—" In the lunch hour he had outlined a plan by which money was to be "picked up" as he phrased lt« It in volved plain robbery. But, though the boy shrank away, horrified at the sug gestion, the plausibility of the man worked on his mind and the tempta tion proved a real one In spite of his scruples. Dutton had learned a secret about the safe. Every house has Its secrets, Its weak points defensive sys tem. On Saturday ntfehts there was often a sum of two or three thousand dollars in the safe. The night watch man was an old mha» The safe was not a new one. The boy's part would be simply to engage the old fellow In conversation until the confederates got their opportunity to hit him on the head and take the keys. For that five hundred dollars was to be his. And, so strangely Is the human mind fashioned, that the boy had felt that, to tell Vincent, would be a be trayal of confidence. The atmosphere of the packing room was not a good one. The boy had gone home and flung himself down on his bed, and his mind was In a turmoil. In the next room tbe girl had come home and flung herself Into the an cient armchair with which the land lady had supplied her when It became too shabby for use In the parlor. She felt utterly unwrought after her day at the department store. She had worked there at twelve dol lars a week tor nearly half a year. When she left the little country tdwn, equipped with a good education, she had confidently expected to take the city by storm. In fact, she was an artist of rare ability. Hut what Is the use of ability unless some one has brains to recognixe it? So day by day she had besieged the. offices with her drawings. Once she had sold one and she had lived on that lingering hope until'the remain der of her money was gone. Then, at her wits' end, she had accepted the position which the landlady told her could be obtained at Darrow's. She had lost all faith in herself. She had worked like an automaton for four months anl had done noth ing. Her best drawing, one which she had thought could not pass the observ ant eye, had never been returned to her from the magazine to which she had submitted it, and she had lacked the courage to call and inquire about It At Darrow's she had tolled behind tbe counter of the hosiery department, at the beck and call of vulgar, frock coated floorwalkers, a cipher among ciphers. She felt crashed by this at- moßphere that surrounded her. She felt utterly out of place among the young women, of a different type,and education, with whom she came Into touch; and they, sensing the differ ence, were not slow to let her per ceive their resentment. Then temptation had come to her, too. It had been in less loathsome guise than with the boy. It was not one of the floorwalkers, but the son of the owner, young Darrow, fresh from college and taking his fling before set tling down in the world. He had come Into thp store with his mother, who was making some purchase there. With worldly wisdom he had not i approached her while the other clerks . were present. But he had found the ! means to see her two or three times. 1 And he had asked her to dine with i him the following evening. She was not ignorant of the world, j She saw from his demeanor that It | did not occur to him that she was any- i thing but one of the underbred, under- ! paid drudges in his father's store. She had known what significance would attach Itself to her acceptance, i But she was desperately lonely, and the thought of an evening in a restau- j rant, and at a theater afterward, the sight of other faces, the touch with life was overwhelming. Til have to accept or go home," j she thought wearily. If she could have known at that moment a letter, signed by the editor of the magazine. Inclosing a check for seventy-five dollars for her drawing, and asking for more, lay In the wire basket beside the desk of the editor's stenographer, ready to be posted on the morrow—lf she could have known! She got up from her chair. The boy was going out of his room at the same moment They knew each other by sight; sometimes they sat near each other In the cheap little restau rant where they got their meals when- j ever they could afford the luxury. They were both too shy to speak to each other, and desperately 1 alone; but now, staring Into each other's faces In tbe deserted hall on tbe top story of the rooming house, they drew to ward each other like abandoned barks drawn by some current Into a vortex. "Are you going to dinner?" asked the boy timorously. "Yes," she answered, looking at him with shy approval. "Let's go together," he said, great ly daring. They descended the stairs together. At the street door she took his arm, and they proceeded toward the res taurant, without a word being spoken. That was the most wonderful meal either of them had ever had. Their conversation was monosyllabic, but there was little need of words In the happiness of this strange sympathy. And afterward they strolled together up and down the lit streets. They paused at the theater door. Women In costly furs, accompanied by men In evening clothes, were going In. "I'm glad I'm not among that crowd," thought the girt, and won dered how many young Darrows there were among them. And the boy, utterly abashed at the thought of the tempatlon that had come to him, and feeling himself whol ly unworthy of the girl whose arm was still linked In his, was planning to see Mr. Vincent on the next morn ing at nine and tell him of the con spiracy. "It's great. Isn't It!" said the boy.. "Just living, I yean." "Yes, It's great," the girl answered, and she knew then that she would have strength to refuse young Darrow and to {?maln at her post. It was only a humble post In the outworks of civilization, bat suddenly she felt like a soldier. "I thought once of going home and giving up—all this," said the boy vaguely, as they strolled homeward "But now I'm going to stay." "And I'm going to stay, too," the girl answered. They reached the door and went up the stairs together In silence. At her door the turned. "I have enjoyed It so much," she said. "I have spent such a happy eve ning." She blushed at her own au dacity. "It has meant such a lot to me—you don't know how moch," she continued, feeling absurdly conscious of the moisture In her eyes. "You don't know how much to me also," he answered. And he never knew how it came about, but the next minute they were In each other's arms, and her lips met bis In that first kiss which everybody knows to be the sweetest. "We'll fight It out together," said the boy. - • Down-State Logic There are some very peculiar quirks in the human make-up. One of them is that you can get people to go down stairs more easily than upstairs—yet In the end they must trudge the same number of steps whether they go down first or last. The successful merchant, says Oood Hardware, must take all of these hu man peculiarities into consideration. In case there is a choice between a salesroom in the basement or second floor. It Is best to give preference to the basement. InAndalusias • "" ' ' " ' - V* 4 ' - ♦• A ' SCIH tpi, ** '■' . ~ 4 £jgM Hrv Harvesting Almond* in Andalusia. (Pr»p«r»d by tfca Nutoul O*o*r«pkla I Soeuty. WubtofEoe. D. C» A THREATENED revolution In Spain has thrust that usually somnolent country into the foreground. It is a large country of diverse features and peo ples, each of which Is imbued with a highly localised patriotism which baa made for dissension on more than 00c occasion. To the traveler who has wandered about the peninsula tba name "Spain" is moat likely, perhaps, to bring up thoughts of Andalusia, the warm, sunny southern province, para dise of the Moors for centuries The Moors made all of Andalusia the center of a wonderful civilisation. In this they were aided, of course, by the enormous natural wealth of tba soil and by a matchless lavishness of sky. sun and moon. These latter ele ments contribute in no small degree to the far-famed brightness of, the Andalusian character n t today. No matter which way one may be traveling In southern Spain, the little station of Bobadllia will soon be en countered. And thereafter it will surely bob up again with considerable persistence, because at Bobadllia. which would otherwise bava no fame of any description, the main lines cross—the railway from north to south and that from east to west. Therefore, be It from Gibraltar to Granada, from Malaga to Seville, from Cordova to Cadiz, everyone halts snd nearly everyone most change trains at this little station. Furthermore, since Andalusian trains, as a rule, are In no untimely rush to arrive at their destination, the stop at Bobadllia is usually long enough to enable the traveler to par take of a satisfying meal In the sta tion restaurant Bobadllia itself is high on a plateau surrounded by gray moon tains of a barren and forbidding appearance; but the train to the south soon enters the valley of the Gnadalhorce, a little stream which has succeeded in cut ting a deep chasm through the moun tain range, seeking Its way to the sea. Through the Orange Country. Judging from the results, the rail way engineers had almost as much difficulty as the river Itself In finding a way through. The train plunges Into a short tunnel to emerge with a roar onto a bridge strung high over a terrifying deep ravine. One catches a glimpse of huge bonlders clinging to the sides of the seeming'.y bottom leas cut, and, looking high above, sees the blue sky of Andalusia. The cut Itself is as deep as a skyscraper is high and no wider than a narrow street After the line passes through the last tunnel it comes suddenly out upon the vega, a veritable garden of soft, green luxuriance. On every hand are oranges, palm trees, bright afternoon sunshine, and the ever deep-blue cloudless sky of the Mediterranean countries. Then there is a stop at Churrlana. another settlement of summer homes, nAtllng on a hillside in this vast ! green garden. The hill completely hides Churrlana from the sea. and It is said that many people moved there in 1808, when it was rumored that Tankee gunboats were to bombard the city of Malaga. Suddenly a bend Is rounded; broad blue waters of the Mediterranean spring Into the picture. Another ten minutes and one is In Malaga, th® ( capital of the province, the see of a bishop, and the fifth city of Spain. Nuts, Fruits and Wlnsa The quays are crowded with huge piles of cargo. In one may be counted 12,000 boxes —200 tons—of almonds for one New York-bound steamer, all shelled and awaiting only the blanch* j ing and salting tor yonr table. Of NO. 28.. those sweet Jordan* some are so lars> that 12 will weigh an onnce. Another mountain of boxes ceotalaa muscatel raisins as big as quarter dol lars snd so delicate that no machine has ever been Invented that wfll seed them. If the skin la only slightly pricked, the ralain soon becomes a mass of sugar. Little half-barrels are foil of Ike finest Malaga grapes packed In cask shavings, for oar Christmas dinner; and there are thoosaada and thoss sands of crates of oranges, lemons, and tangerines; also boxes and bar rels of rich olive ofl. some of which is used by our Pacific coast packers In preparing their product; and Uttle boxes and baskets of pressed figs, crates of pomegranates, ariooa. custard apples, and sweet potatoes. Barrels of tkat deliriously sewt muscatel wine are marked Loads*. Havana, and Basaoe Aires, bat ansa for New York. There are kSgS of sweet-smelling aniseed, and even ex tract of thyme, lavender. ««i roan* mary, for milady's toilet. And while all thla Is happening em the quays at the railway station. In November and early December, crates of fresh beans and tomatoes an being carefully packed in express can to be rushed to Parla epicures, to ha followed by strawberries in March and April. From Malaga to Granada there are two ways to go by motor car, hath routes over the mountains. The short er road leads directly above the city, zigzagging and winding ever ap and along frightening precipices until, la 49 minutes, one has ascended 3400 feet and may see far below and. serosa the broad bine Mediterra nean. the shores of Africa. Granada la Flourishing. Twenty-live years ago Granada was dirty and ran down, but It has takes a new laaaa on life. There are now a dosen or more sagar" factories in the province of Granada employing the sugar beet as raw material, whereas next door, la Malaga prov ince, them are several sugar factories where sugar cane is used • Yet with all this, Spain Imports sugar. The vast fertile plateau from Ante qoera to Granada is picturesque in * the extreme —ratling hills, with here and there an abrupt precipice, a deep cut, or a towering mass of bald gray rock to add to Its rugged appearance. 'The bills are really sipail mountains, as they form the lower reaches of the Sierra Nevada. Thla whole country seems to be an Immense olive orchard. Thousands and thousands of the silver-green trees are planted In straight rows, running up toward the tops of the slopes. Granada's thoroughfares are paved and clean and there Is a prosperous . appearance about everything, streets are crowded and there are many au tomobiles, most of American manu facture, and some fine new buildings, modern shops. aU lending a Madrid like atmosphere unfamiliar In most Andalusian towns. Although the main avenues are wide and modern. It la like entering another world to turn down one of the narrow streets and peep through doorways into lovely patios full of flowers, palms and orange trees, all guarded by beautiful wrought-troQ doors. The trace of the Moors Is so strong that one instinctively looks for long white robes and turbaned heads Here and there. In shops oat on the sidewalks, are girls making the just ly famed Granada lace. They stretch silk tulle on large frames and wears Into it pretty designs, for imi«i| hand kerchiefs, and much more elaborate 1 motifs tor tablecloths and cortalaoi