Audubon Republican. [volume] (Audubon, Iowa) 1894-1925, 1905-05-18
GREELEY.


Oscar Miller sold hogs in Hamlin
! Wednesday.
Mr.. McLain was pleasant business
caller in Greeley, Friday.
Jno. Mcclure, the cattle buyer of
! Melville, was in these parts Wednes
day.
That was pleasant gentleman in
| our vicinity Wednesday selling the
picture of the presidents.
The gale. ratified elements fought
their way through hail and wind to
the cave, Wednesday night.
Tuesday evening was one of the sur
| liest old fellows that we have met this
| spring, Wednesday was its antithesis.
Jake Layland is one of the horse
men that does a good business in
Greeley in spite of company horse
| opposition.
Ethel Rucker is canvassing east
| Greeley in the interest of certain
brand of baking powders, for selling
which prize is given.
The lightning made a complete
| wreck OF Vene Earhart's phone during
| the recent storm, and threatened the
residence with its mad freak.
The actual facts of the case are
that two heads are better than one
even though one be cabbage head if
the cabbage head has no snakes in it.
A few minutes after two o'clock,
Sunday morning, April IA, Mrs. Bea-
kn-ff n m m ulf nf lnn
Blake, son of Richard Blake of Mel
son, died. Her illness was brief, but
OF such nature as to cause great
suffering and battle the skill of three
physicians. One of earth's widest
storms was shrieking around the af-
tiicted home when her soul glided
silently into the serene beyond, leav-
ing its pain-wrecked home of clay
lying upon the STORM beaten sands of
| this world
Close her eyes tenderly, these she gaz-
ed through
Twas only smiling at you.
The fact that the deceased was only
nineteen years old the last of which
was spent in happy wedlock, makes
| her departure shocking tragedy.
| The Hoover hearse came from Audu-
bon and conveyed the remains to Bow
| man Chapel, where funeral services
were conducted by Rev. Mr.. Hughes.
The remains were laid to rest in Bow
| man Chapel cemetery.
Above the mad storms howl she
| heard
| The voice of Jesus say,
Arise and from earth's dark
| tumult
Come home, my child, to me-"
| The light within the cold clay home
Went out, and all grew dark.
But with the angels far away,
| She Sings-her kind voice! bark.
| Shall we build a new court house?
| is a question the unbiased and careful
consideration of which has become the
| duty OF every voter in Audubon county.
1t is notorious fact that our county
officials have born the present made
| quate facilities with patient economy,
conditions which if permitted longer to
| continue will openly accuse the people
OF nlggardly lngratitude. Notwith-
standing the fact that our present
| court house bellies the statement, | will
say that we are a thrifty and generous
people. | for one am going to do my
part on June ID, to erase this embar-
RAISING inconsistency from the fair
| face OF our county and, so far as my
vote goes, build county capital that
will truly express our character, and
give Justice a pleasant place in which
to hold court when she comes to deal
with our delinquents. The folly of
spending much money on an old build
ing is so conspicuous as to make men
tioning a tiresome superiority. "Be
cautious" That is a good advice,
but say, my friend, be cautious of
your caution. When the company
horse CRATER, the creamery shark, and
the crayon portrait fake come around
is the time to arm yourself with caut-
ion, not when neglected public is
pleading for its rights. For tax pay
ers to respond literally to the wants
of the public indicates spirit of pro-
gress that leads rapidly to happy
social conditions, while the opposite
spirit is what civilization has oeen
battling ever since the dawn of human
life.
OUR BELT.
This is the belt of corn and beans,
| OF hogs and kline and mustard green's
OF the palatial. residence.
| Also the belt of common sense.
| We're in the belt of greatest wealth,
OF vigOr, vim, and rugged health.
We gather up batch of fools (?)
And run them through our marvellous
schools,
When, 10. grist of candidates
For governors and potentates
Comes issuing from 'twixt the rows
OF golden corn and pumpkin blows.
We brush from them the pollen dust,
Place in their hands the sacred trust
OF steering our great ship of state
Through stormy seas OF wild debate.
With confidence we Danish fear
And soon beneath skies calm and
clear
We see the green shores far away
OF Islands of Utopia.