Water Valley progress., November 22, 1902, Image 3

About Water Valley progress. (Water Valley, Miss.) 1882-1918

Image provided by: Mississippi Department of Archives and History

                
The music of the boughs.
The Music of the swaying bought.
Where sifted sunlight flakes the grata.
No instruments pf man’s device
The harmony can e'er surpass:
The quiet charms of earth and skjr.
To sound transformed by such rare art—
Behold., the strain.
With shy refrain,
T*cslstles»„sieals to win the heart!
Jn murmuring swell and* cadence low
The tuneful tide is borne along.
By turns It floats the hum of bee.
By turns the wildi bird's limpid sor.g.
And straightway Memory and Hope,
By Fancy's aid, in bliss unite.
Till one forgets
The old regrets,
Andi life becomes a vista bright.
Beneath the great trees’ ample arms,
Whose kind protection grants no room—
Where all is tenderness and cheer—
For vague replnlngs. thoughts of gloom,
A spirit dwells amid the shade
That hath a thousand storms defied.
And calm and strong
Its gracious song
Makes bold the soul whate’er betide.
What fruits of meditation wait
For those who seek the forest aisles;
What courage bides for trembling hearts
To meet the threat of Fate with smiles;
What restless sins may be confessed
To Nature’s kind and1 pitying ear.
Till washed anew.
The soul grows true.
And faithful to its visions clear!
The music of the swaying boughs—
NO tapered mass from human tnrogts
Car. vie with that pure harmony
Which. wlrd>.blown, through the wood
land floats.
How futile seem the narrow creeds
With which man stains the musty scroll!
Be mine, be mine, \
The forest shrine \
Where glinting sunbeams lead, my goal.
■ «-8amuel Min turn Peck, in Boston Tran
script. _
If Love Were All
By ANNA COSUX.ICH.
QLAVE of Ambition! He smiled
vj slowly into the fire where the two
red coals were being driven apart by
the hungry yellow flame. The slave of
Ambition—to waver when she called!
Perhaps they had been right to call
him that, until the woman came. But.
now! Lydia had passed far across his
heart's thresnold, and it was for him
to decide whether Lydia or Ambition
had entered farther.
Last year, it should have come last
year, he impatiently reflected. Then
he would have been ready to go, and
glad. He would have goue with Dralil
gen, aye, with the evil one himself,
almost, that he might see and learn
the things which nature has to teach
to the men who dare.
This offer to be one of an Antarctic
exploration party was munificent
apart from its scientific advantages.
Must he deliberately refuse it, remain
ing in the narrow precincts of the un
versity out of choice—his own choice?
He laughed derisively at the bold yel
low flame, resting his distracted head
in his hands. The lovely face of Lydia
Cameron, artist and woman, seemed to
rise of the blaze.
“You or Ambition, Lydia?” he mut
tered. “Ambition is cruel, stern and
cold. You—how warm and sweet your
womanliness, how dear the witchery of
your eyes and lips, how comforting the
sympathy of your low voice! Love is
better than Ambition. It is—it is.”
He repeated the sentence as if not
quite sure of its finality. However, it
proved to be his decision in the end.
The next day, he sent a note of regret
to Drahlgen. A few hours later, he
sought Lydia's house, feeling strangely
happy.
The lights had just been turned on.
The maid was giving the last touches to
Lydia’s tea table and Lydia sat by,
smiling her approval. She heard a
bounding step outside, a hasty ring,
then a hurried entrance. She glanced
at the clock. It was too early for West.
Yet West it must be, for no one she
knew entered her house with such
zest.
Yes, it was he. She smiled in greet
iiig, giving him the tips of her little,
warm fingers.
“This is so nice,” she said. ”1 was
rather lonely at my solitaire tea party.
Uncle Nat is out, and even the maid
looked sorry for me. But, now that
you have saved the situation, please
tell me what it is that makes you look
so joyful this evening?”
No, he would not tell her yet. He
smiled and said something foolish as
he took the proffered cup. While he
sipped it, he looked at her in a strange,
new way. She had a different meaning
to him since yesterday—a dearer, full
er meaning than before. For had he
not given up fame and wealth for h$r,
for the soul behind those deep, gra,\
eyes, for the beauty of that pale, sweet
face framed by the dark hair? What,
mattered it that she did not know yet ?
She 'would know soon, soon.
With difficulty he restrained himself
until the maid removed the cups and
softly closed the door. And then lie
told his story, rushingly, like the leap
of a torrent down the mountain side.
Lydia’s eyes softened, widened, as she
stood there listening breathless. Sud
denly he stopped the torrent of words.
“What is your answer?” he eagerly
whispered, ready to clasp her in his
arms at the slightest token of response
from her.
* Instead, she covered her eyes with he
long, artist fingers. With difficulty,
she controlled that ominous swaying
of her slender body. It was us thuug.i
a precipice were at her feet.
"This silence, Lydia, what is it?” he
asked, apprehensively.
She gasped, then settled her face in
a wan smile.
“If love were all—” she began, but
her voice failed her. He seized her
wrist almost roughly.
“Love is all!” be exclaimed fiercely.
*Do you think that fame and ambition
are to be compared to love? You
would throw me over for your work?
Lydia, Lydia, dearest, let me convince
you that the woman is higher than the
artist!”
His voice was full of pleading. She
shook her head woefully.
“No. no!” at last she managed to ar
ticulate. “It is not my nrt, however
1 love it. I would not send you from
me because of it.” '
He sank into the nearest chair, giving
vent to a groan of despair. Another
had won the treasure of her heart while
he had dallied.
“You do not love me,”he finally whis
pered. It was scarcely audible, that
husky sentence which hurt so. She
went swiftly to his side. She knelt
by his chair to comfort him.
“I do love you, Ellis! I love you, oh,
so much better than I love my art!”
He arose quickly and twitched his
lips as if to speak, but she placed her
fingers to them with a pathetic little
gesture.
“It is useless, dear,” she began, smil
ing sadly. “What you would say, I
do so long to hear—any woman would.
But it would make it harder for me and
for you. I too must leave so much
unsaid, because'—because love is not
all! It is not the only thing. It may
be greater than ambition, greater than
art. greater than the others, but it is
not greater than duty!’ She uttered
the last phrase like a sharp cry of pain.
“Duty!”
He was facing her, bewildered and
miserable.
“Yes,” she said, quickly. His misery
suddenly quieted her.
“Yes, duty to Uncle Nat. You know,
dear, everything I am, everything I
have I owe to him. He took me in,
a penniless orphan. He g^ve me the
love of a father, mother and all. He
spared no pains or money that I might
be happy and well-educated. Those
lessons in Paris, those frequent and ex
pensive trips abroad, this quiet nest
of a home—all, all I owe to him. He
has made an artist of me. You know
how fortunate I have been, and how
happy my success has rendered Uncle
Nat. And now, after all these years,
lie asks me, as a favor—as a favor,
mind you—to give him a stone out of
this artist-building. He wishes me to
go to Europe. He wishes to have them
done—oh. I must not leave out any
thing! He is now director of the
Athleneau museum. His department J
is architecture, and to complete his
collection—such a fine one it is, too.”
she could not help saying a little
proudly. “I have helped him just a
bit now and then. To complete! his
collection, he wants the feudal castles
of Europe. He wants the local color,
the right expression and all, you know}
and I musti do them for him under his
Tlrection. I—hr« clever litr*« artist,**
he calls me—dear Uncle Nat!**
The tears were in her dark eyes, bat
her lips tried to smile.
“Could I refuse. Kills,coaid l?” She
asked in distress.
“No. no. my noble little woman! It
was just like you. to be glad to do it!"
“I was glad, yes—to help Uncle Nat
at. last. lint now—now, I am not glad.
I am so sorry!”
He rested his head against the man
tel.
“So sorry for yonr sake. Fills, dear.”
she whispered, seeing the misery
stamped so clearly upon lu< handsome
face. She laid her trembling lingers
softly over his brow. Ills eyes elored
wearily. He clasped her hand and
placed it tenderly to his lips.
“Now you must go.” at last she mnr
mured.
He shook his head as though dis
pelling some ugly dream. He walked
heavily to the door, gazing straight
ahead. Then, suddenly, he seemed to
remember something, and he turned to
scan her agonized face. He searched
his dazed brain for words with which
to reassure her. '
“Lydiu-I Yon will come back to me.
will you not? I’ll live for the day of
your return. Tell me how far it is. T
may come then, may I not? Speak,
darling, if yo\i love me!”
“Oh, it may be three, fonr, I don’t
know how many years!” she moaned,
drearily.
“Even so. even so. I may come, may
I not?”
“You will have forgotten.” she hope
lessly murmured.
“No, never, nevenj” he protested, ve
hemently. “You will let me know when
you return—promise, Lydia!”
“\es„ yes; but yon must go now.
Go now—if you love me!” She pushed
him gently from her. He took those
hands which were pushing him away
and covered them with kisses. And
with the kisser, were mingled a few
tears'
She heard the front door close gen
tly. Slow, heavy footsteps tramped
down to» the. street. The*Ellis who
had entered so buoyantly an hour be
fore now dragged his steps homeward.
He could see the years of her absence
stretched out before him like an inter
minable martyrdom. He saw himself
grimly working at his professoriate,
all incentive lacking. The Ellis West
of dashing mien and splendid spirits
had suddenly vanished.
But the next morning came the mo>st
unexpected thing of all—a note from
Lydia. It read as follows:
“Dearest Ellis: Just as you left last
night Uncie Nat came in, bearing the
best news for you and me. Can you
guess? He has. been transferred from
the architectural department to the
department of Italian arts. The presi
dent of the Athlenean is going to send
young Harvey abroad for those castles,
as he needs Uncle Nat near for the
coming exposition. And so we are not
going to Europe on that tiresome trip,
and you are coming up this evening,
are you not,? Yours lovingly from
now on. “LYDIA.”
For further details, watch the mar
riage columns of the society papers._
Home Magazine.
INDIAN CHIEF AS CONTRACTOR
The Head of the Vt'a iboe Tribe Farm*
Out Hla People to Plelc
Hops.
A half thousand Washoe Indian*,
who have been picking hops on the
Samuel Talmadge ranch at Mount
Olivet, Cal., were taken back to Nevada
in a special train the other day. Men,
women and children were in the crowd.
They are considered expert hop pick
ers:, and this is the third season that
they have harvested the Talmadge
crop. Their labor is contracted for
with their chief, and the employer
brings them to this country in a spe
cial train and returns them the s&me
way to their homes.
One of the bucks during the period
of a spree stole a horse and buggy from
the hitching rail on Exchange avenue
and drove the animal almost to death,
as well as demolishing the buggy. He
was obliged to remain-over when his
brethren departed to answer to the
charge of grand larceny.
COAT MADE OF HARE’S EARS.
Twelve Hundred Animal* Killed t«
Supply Material for Automo
bile Garment.
Automobiling has been responsible
for many curious ideas in the way of
coats, but one is a unique sample c/
the furrier’s art. From cape to tail
it is made of hare’s eats, cunningly
joined together. Twelve hundred
hares were killed to produce this as
tonishing garment, whieh took three
months to manufacture, one man be
ing employed three days in cutting the
ears from the skins. It has b£eu es
pecially treated to render it water
proof. Considering the immense
amount of labor expended on it, it
seems cheap at the price,>$100, which
is asked for it.
la D«aoemtl« America.
l'a Zimmerman, of Cincinnati, hns
become the grandfather of a viscount
It’s a safe her. says the Chicago IUc
ord-Herakl, that he doesn’t kuow wbat
a viscount is, though.
ELK PLENTIFUL THIS YEAR.
One Washington HomeiicaderBringi
One of the lllir Creature* Down
with a Revolver.
A large number of elk are roaming
around Humptulips City, Wash., and
the killing of an elk is almost a daily
occurrence. Chunks'of red meat, rem
nants left by the hunter, are scattered
through the timber, to be had by going
after it. The other morning Lewis
Losey and Herbert Newbury started
out from the city and returned i\
night with two pack horses loaded
with elk meat.
A homesteader living near Hoquiam,
while on his way to a spring of water,
encountered a hunch of ten elk. They
stood and looked at him in fearless
amazement. Having a 45 Colt’s revol
ver with him and1 being afraid they
might attack him, he drew his gun and
fired into the band, bringing down an
elk that dressed 400 pounds. Around
Humptulips is one of the best hunting
places in the Pacific northwest.
PaMint ot the Anthracite.
Sixty years ago the American peo
ple didn’t know what anthracite coal
would ever be used for, says the Chi
cago Record-Herald. It begins to
look as if some of them may forget
they ever knew.
Innovations.
Whistling solos at weddings art
among the latest eastern tads. We
shall next hear, says the Chicago
Record-Herald, of somebody whis
tling “Lead, Kindly Light” at a fu
neral.
Kipling's llext Move
If Kipling can’t secure privacy in
his new home, which is five miles
from a railway station, he will doubt
less, says the Chicago Record-Herald,
try a balloon.
Strenaous Life- In China.
The Chinese boxers are being led
by a woman. The old empress dow
ager, says the Chicago Record-Her
ald, must be out leading a strenuous
life.
JBMM. ...
WANTED BY BILL ARP
Speech Delivered in 1881 by Gen.
Harry R. Jackson.
of Bartow Thlalu It the Moot
Notable, Instructive aid Klo
■lurat Address Heard la Geor
gia Slave the Civil War.
[Copyrighted by Atlanta Constitution, and
Reprinted) by Permission]
Wanted—In 1831 Gen. Henry 11. Jack
son, of Savannah, delivered in Atlanta
the most notable, instructive and elo
quent address that has been heard in
Georgia since the civil war. The sub
ject was “The Wanderer,” a slave ship
that landed on the Georgia coast in
1858. But the whole address was an his
torical recital of many political events
that led to the civil war, and of which
the generation that has grown up since
were profoundly ignorant and still are.
It was delivered by request of the
Young Men’s Library association, when
Henry Grady was its chairman, and I
supposed was published in pamphlet
form and could be had on application.
But I have sought in vain to find a
copy. I have a newspaper copy, but it
has been worn to the quick ami is al
most illegible. I wrote to Judge Pope
Barrow, who is Gen. Jackson’s ex
ecutor, and he can find none among the
general’s papers, tain any veteran fur
nish me a copy ? I would also be pleased
w> oDuun a copy of Daniel Webster’s
speech at Capon Springs, which was
suppressed by his publishers, and to
which Gen. Jackson makes allusion.
Gen. Jackson was a great man. He
won his military laurels in thewar with
Mexico. He was assistant attorney gen
eral under Buchanan when Jeremiah
Black was the chief. He was the vigi
lant, determined, conscientious prose
cutor of those who owned and equipped
and officered the only slave ship that
ever landed on the Georgia coast. He
was a man of splendid culture and a
poet of ability and reputation. Strange
it is that this magnificent address has
not beep compiled in the appendix of
some southern history as a land mark
for the present generation. It is sad
and mortifying that our young and mid
dle-aged men und our graduates from
southern colleges know so little of our
ante-bellum history. Thenorthern peo
ple! are equally ignorant of the origin
of slavery, and the real causes that pre
cipitated the civil war. Most of them
have a vague idea that slavery was born
and just grew up in the south—came up
out of the ground like the 17-year-old
locusts—and was our sin and our curse.
Not one in 10,000 will believe that the
6outh never imported a slave from
Africa, but got all we had by purchase
from our northern brethren. I would
wager a thousand dollars against ten
that not a man under 50 nor a school
boy who lives north of the line knows
or believes that Gen. Grant, their
great military hero and idol, was a
slave owner and lived off of their hire
and their service while lie was fight
ing us about ours. Lincoln’s proclama
tion of freedom came in 1863, but Gen.
^b-ant paid no attention to it. He con
trolled to use them as slaves until Jan
uary, 1865. (See his biography by Gen.
James Grant Wilson in Appleton’s
Encyclopedia.) Gen. Grant owned
these slaves in St. Louis, Mo., where he
lived. He was a bad manager and just
before the war began he moved to Ga
lena and went to work for his brother
in the tanyard. While there he caught
the war fever and got a good position
under Lincpliy but had he remained in
St. Louis would-hav^ greatly preferred
one on our side. So said Mrs.CSranta
few years ago to a newspaper editor in
St. Augustine.
How jnany of this generation north
or south know or will believe that os
late as November, 1861, Nathaniel Gor
don, master of a New England slave
ship called the'Erie, was convicted in
New York city of carrying on the slave
trade. (See Appleton.) Just think of it
and wonder* In 1S61 our northern breth
ren made war upon us because we en
slaved the negroes we had bought
from them, but at the same time they
^r
kept oil bringing more from Africa and
begging tig to buy them. How many
know that England, our mother coun
try, never emancipated her slaves until
1843, when 12,000,000 were set free in
the East Indies and one hundred mil
lions of dollars paid to their owners
by act of parliament? It is only with
in the last half century that the im
portation of slaves from Africa has
generally ceased. Up to that time
every civilized country bought them.
English statesmen and clergymen said
it was better to bring them away than
to have them continue in their bar
barism and cannibalism. And it was
better. I believe it was God's Provi
dence that they should be brought
away and placed in slavery, but the
way it was done was inhuman and bru
tal. The horrors of the middle passage,
as the ocean voyage was called, is the
most awful narrative 1 ever r&id, and
reminds me of Dante's “Inferno.”
About half the cargo survived and Ihe
dead and dying were tumbled into the '
sea. The owners said we can afford
to lose half and still have a thousand
per cent, profit. Bev. John Newton,
one of the sweetest poets who ever
wrote a hymn, the author of “Amazing
grace, how sweet the sound, that
saved a wretch like me?” “Saviour,
Visit Thy Plantation,” “Safely Through
Another Week,” and many others, was
for many years a deck hand on a slave
sh;p and saw all its horrors. He be
came converted, but soon after became
captain of a slaver and for four years
pursued it diligently and mitigated ita
cruelty. Then he quit and went to
preaching, and says in his autobiog
raphy that it never occurred to him
that there was anything wrong or im
moral in the slave trade where it was
jiuiuuueiy conducted.
In Appleton’s long and exhaustive
article on slavery it is said that slavery
in some form has existed ever since
human history began. And it appears
to have been under the sanction of
Providence as far back as the da) s of
Noah and Abraham. The latter had a
very great household, and many serv
ants whom he had bought with bis
money. The word slave appears but
twice in the Bible. It is synonymous
with servant and bondsman. There
has been no time since the Christian
era that the dominant nations have
not owned' slaves—sometimes the bond
age was hard, but as a general rule
the master found it to his interest
to be kind to his slaves. As Bob Toombs
said in his Boston speech: “It is not
to our interest to starve our slaves
any more than it is to starve our
horses and horned cattle.” Shortly
after the little cargo that the Wan
derer brought were secretly scattered
around I saw some of them at work
in a large garden in Columbus Ga., and
was told that they were docile and
quickly learned to dig and to hoe, but
that it was hard to teach them to eal
cooked meat. They wanted it raw
and bloody. They were miserable lit
tle runts, “Guinea negroes,” with
thick lips and flat noses, but they grew
up into better shape and made good
servants and 1 know were far better
off than in their native jyngles.
No, there was no sin in slavery as
instituted in the south by our fathers
and forefathers, and that is why I
write this letter—perhaps the last I
shall ever write on this subject. I wish
to impress it upon our boys and girls
so that they may be ready and willing
to defend their southern ancestors
from the baseless charge of suffering
now for the sins of their fathers.
A northern friend writes: “Do please
let up on the negro. We up here are
tired of him. Give us more, of your
pleasant pictures of domestic life, etc.,
but let the negro go dead.”
He does not know that the negro
and what is to become of him is a
question of tremendous moment with
us, and' it must He writteto about. But
I will refrain as long as it is prudent.
Just now I would like to hire a man to
enss the black rased! who came into
my back yard the other night and
stole my grindstone. For five years
I have let every darkey grind his ax
who wanted to, and now I can’t,grind
my own. The fact is, I have no ax to
grind, for they stole that first.
BILL, ARP.
WANTS TJ£N MILLIONS.
Celambla I'wivcralty Keefe Bi* San
tn Accomplish, All Its President
Hopes tn See none.
Columbia university is in urgent
need of $10,000,000, according to Presi
dent Nicholas Murray Butler. In his
annual report Dr. Butler sets>forth the
wants of the institution and makes
comparison of its resources with those
of the University of Chicago and other
great schools.
Columbia, he says, is without ade
quate grounds and buildings and with
out sufficient income properly to care
for the work that has already been
undertaken. The president reports
the value of the property of the uni
versity to be $21,312,554. To pay debta,
buy needed land8, build needed build
ings and for general purposes, $10,
000.000 is required. The present gen
eral debt of the university is nearly
$3,000,000, and the annual interest pay
ment to be met is a bout $100,000.
President Butler also advocated a re
duction of the four-year college course
of liberal studies to two years. “The
whole tendency of our present educa
tional system is to postpone unduly
the period of s«lf-sup(port,” he said,
and suggested that the degree of
bachelor of arts be conferred ' upon
graduates of a two-year*’ course and
the degree of master of arts at the com
pletion pf a college course of four
years.
“I feel certain,” he said, “that pub
lie opinion will not long sustain a
scheme of formal training which in
eludes a kindergarten course of two or
three years, an elementary school
course of eight years, a college coursa
of four yearsr and a professional or
technical course of three years, fol
lowed by a period of apprenticeship on
small wages or no wages at all.”
Supply Limited.
He—What is your idea of a perfect
gentleman?
She—A man who is able to carry on a
conversation without referring to tha
weather.—Chicago Daily News.
Punishment In Prospect.
She—1 heard about the elopement.
Has her mother forgiven them?
He—I think not. I understand she
has gone to live with them.- ■Illustrat
ed Bit*.