Newspaper Page Text
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*.