Water Valley progress., August 20, 1904, Image 2

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

Image provided by: Mississippi Department of Archives and History

                
TheWaterValley Progress
S. D. BROWN. Publisher.
WATER VALLEY. : MISSISSIPPI.
WANDERLUST AND HEIMWEH.
My feet they have the wanderlust—
They fain would leal me on
Adown the pray road soft with dust
Through eventide and dawn
To where there lift the distant hills,
A-many ways to roam.
My heart with one deep cadence thrills;
A whispered song of home.
My feet would set themselves to go
Still on and up and dotvn.
To seek the pathways to and fro
Through country and through town,
To find the sunshine here, and there
The shade of city walls—
But softly on the pulsing air
The home place ever calls.
©. fair the path! And fair and far
The countries I would see.
And morning glow and even star
Show forth that path to me.
My eyes look on, my lips are mute.
But be it night or noon
There comes to me, irresolute.
The homesong in a croon.
The wanderlust it lures my feet
To where the pathways part,
Eut now there flames with sudden heat
The heimweh In my heart.
And so farewell to reaching trail
And flashing wind flung foam;
My heart but heeds the stronger hail—
The backward path, and home.
— VV. D. N., in Chicago Daily Tribune.
LUCY, OP THE
HUALAPAIS.
UY ALMA MARTIN ESTABROOK.
Slie was tired, was Lucy of the
Hualapais, so tired that half way
along the trail she stopped, and
loosening the band about her fore
head, dropped her oya in the scant
shade of a greasewood bush, and,
sitting down, dug her brown toes
into the lavender sand.
Across the lava beds agaijist the
side of the mountain, her wickiup
clung; the wickiup where Wielie
topsi had brought her so many
moons ago that neither he nor she
had tried to reckon them; where
the papooses had-come, one, two,
three, four, round and brown, into
this world of desert and desolate
hill top; where life, slow-cycling
and sluggish, centered for her, and
where now the supper fire’s gray
blue smoke drifted hazily sky
ward, and where in the late after
noon sunlight she caught the
gleam of her eldest daughter’s gay
blanket.
The limpid shallows of her eyes
reflected a shadow strange t<r
them and over her face, scarcely
less round than her papoose’s, a
line drew taut and cut.
She had come from the old chief,
Levy-Levy. And w hat he had told
her had disturbed her usual seren
ity.
Presently she roused herself
and went sturdily on. The wickiup
faced the west. Its end was open,
and there in the splendor of liis
brown baby nakedness, among
skins and rags of myriad col
ors, with a scrap of blanket blaz
ing somewhere back of him, sat in
state the little Wielietopsi, blink
ing black eyes of defiance at the
sun.
Wielietopsi, the first, lay not at
full lengh on his pile of skins
watching his squaw as she toiled
lip the hill with her burden. More
sleeps ago than she could count
on her work-blunted fingers, he
had departed, suddenly, for the
Hunting Ground of his fathers.
But she thought not of his absence
as she toiled homeward, nor as she
mechanically shared in the supper
about the fire in the open. And
after the papoose and the
younger children had been put to
early bed she called her daughter
out with her.
They stood beside the corral of
peeled cactus stalks, talking soft
ly, standing close. The wind came
over the lava-topped hills from
the Bad Lands and fluttered their
worn bandana blankets about
their bare feet; Venus stared at
them from the west; and over
their troubled heads a beneficent
moon beamed gloriously. *
The spirit of Wielietopsi was
not at peace. This Levy-Levy had
made known to her. The old chief’s
sister, Salamadi, upon whom the
restlessness of old age had set
tled, wandering on the hills by
moonlight, had met him, and he
Jbad made known to ter hie sense
of injury ami resentment that no
horses had been sent with him
into that place where his fathers
were all mounted.
Wielietopsi, in the llesb, had
been held in little esteem, so little,
indeed, that at his death no sacri
fice in his behalf had been sug
gested ; but in the spirit he com
manded both awe and consider
ation.
Levy-Lev,* had plainly intimated
to his squaw that his spirit must
not be allowed to “yamina” about
the hills.
But the little cactus corral held
but one occupant—the stiff old
gray horse who munched his feed
and looked at them out of sleepy
eyes. He represented a large part
of their living and the only means
of conveying the necessities to the
wickiup perched so eyrie-like upon
the ledge.
Leaning her bare arms on the
top of the coral Wielietopsi’s
squaw looked over at the old
horse with speculative eyes, and
slowly shook a determined head.
Lucy, of the Hualapais, stirred
in her sleep, and wakened. Un
troubled slumber was usually
with her. Her questioning eyes
sought the papoose at her side,
but he slept the undisturbed sleep
of Indian babyhood. No unac
countable noise met her ear. But
suddenly she remembered! And
remembering, she lifted her head
cautiously, supported only by her
splendid supple neck, and waited,
listening.
The wind leaped over the lava
beds and threw itself on the wick
iup, shaking .all its loose ends of
shingles and flapping canvas. The
hut was like a great grotesque
rattle, seized suddenly and shaken
with might, for the grim and
whimsical satisfaction of the spir
it of the roisterous night.
But she was not afraid of the
wind. She knew it. To its lullaby,
now tierce, now gentle, genera
tions of her forbears had slept.
Its whimsies and its vagaries
troubled her not at all. What she
feared was the intangible, the un
known. This visitor who would
come stepping silently out of the
world beyond her senses into the
world of quickened pulses and
acute heart beats.
And in the moment’s seizure of
panic and palsy she knew that he
must be appeased.
Days of toil and sleeps of troub
led weariness would not compare
with sickening night moments
like these. Fear of the man who
had gone had always dominated
her, and he was doubly fearsome
to her now.
By tin? sky she knew it to be al
most morning. The stars were
gone but one. It hung, big and
golden, sfuarely in the dome of
Heaven. And she lay down shiv
ering and drew her blankets close.
The wind whipped her mane of
hair across her face. Like the
eyes of a child fastened on a bau
ble suspended above it, her eyes
fixed themselves on the solitary
star—a little while. And then she
slept.
The canyon was remote and al
most impossible of access. It lay
like a caldron into which the god
of upheaval, snatching from the
grim hills about it their broken
ribs of rock, had cast them,
gnarled and contorted, monstrous
things that made strange pyra
mids down its length, or lifted
themselves against its ragged
sides almost to the rim. August
torrents had cut a way through it,
leaving chalices in the white marl,
cups where the water. lingered
longest, and where green things
still grew in the crevices, scant
wiry growths of much root and
little leafage.
Mesquite and scrub-oak mount
ed with bowlders toward the can
yon’s rim, and grew there, green
against the whites and softened
grays. Some of the bushes had
been burned, and stood black and
skeleton-like, throwing queer
shadows.
Over certain of the huge sup
porting pillars of the great sides
there was a touch of pink—the
soft and exquisite coloring of
ages. At its mouth a spring, sol
enin and limpid, with the sentinels
of a band of wild burros keeping
guard over it. One, striped like a
zebra, threw up his head and lis
tened, and the four about him be *
came rigid ns they stood. He
looked toward the trail that ap
proached from .the limitless
stretch of desert. A spot dis
turbed its unbrokenness.
The leader snorted, and, wheel
ing, plunged up through the can
yon, his fellow s at his heels. Like
goats they mounted from rock to
rock, and at the head—the only
place where even they could scale,
climbed precariously to the edge.
Then they turned, snorting and
vengeful,and watched the strange
approaching spot.
It lengthened, ran into a ribbon
of dull color, and fluttered up the
soundless canyon.
A half hour it must haveiaken
in approaching a halting plade,'
and the sentinel burros, still upon
the brim, perceived their enemies,
the Indians.
An old warrior grotesque in a
work a day civilian's suit, came
first on liis wire of a pony, behind
him two young bucks, each mcfnnt
ed and one leading an old gray
horse, then the squaws, four of
them, as squat in the saddle as
out. They moved without sound
other than that made by the
horses in their painful and some
times almost impossible efforts to
scale the rocks that all along
blocked the way, and, reaching a
certain gpot, where high on the
jagged canyon side a recent lire'
had burned, they solemnly dis
mounted. The horses were teth
ered, or held by the squaws, all
except the gray horse; he was led
farther up the steep side to a
shelf of rock, wrhere mesquite,
charred and blackened, stood.
A pile of ashes lay there, at its
roots, undisturbed by the ele
ments. A twisted rifle, broken by
the heat, lay across it. It was the
funeral jKO’ie of Wielietopsi.
Close rby the young bucks
dragged fresh mesquite and piled
it high. The gray horse whinnied
nervously, and from below, an
other as old as he, remembering
other scenes like this, perhaps, an
swered with a kind of reassuring
cry.
Stolid and motionless, with
heavy faces and black, back-tossed
manes, the squaws waited, Lucy
of the Hualapais among them.
Then the old warrior lifted up
his hands toward the strip of blue
summer sky above, and spoke into
the stillness. A shot followed his
words, and then another, in rapid
succession.
The gray horse lurched, and fell,
and the flaming mesquite caught
him.
The sides of the canyon gave
back the echo of a great sigh. For
at last the spirit of the wandering
Wielietopsi was appeased. His
stiff old charger was with him in
the Hunting Ground. — Overland
Monthly.
Wood Food of Siberia.
A traveler in Siberia a few
years back noted that among the
natives along the northern coast
wood, in a certain form, is a most
common and constant article of
diet. The natives eat it because
they like it. Even when fish are
plentiful it usually forms part of
the evening meal, as many clean
ly stripped larch logs near every
hut testify.' These people know by
experience that the fact of their
eating wood arouses the sympa
thy of strangers, and shrewdly use
it to excite pity and to obtain gifts
of tea and tobacco. They scrape
off thick layers immediately under
the bark of the log, and, chopping
it fine, mix it with snow. It is then
boiled in a kettle. Sometimes a
little fish roe, milk or butter is
mixed with it.
Had a Close Call.
First Physician—So the opera
tion was just in the nick of time?
Seconfl Physician—Yes, in an
other 24 hours the patient would
have recovered without it.—Har
per’s Bazar.
PRISONERS WELL TREATED.
Malefactors in Japan Are Given Every
Inducement to Mer.d
Their Ways.
i That/ whirl) is esvfccially strik
inn at lirst sight inf a Japanese
prison is that there is no differ
ence between the prison and the
hilt of the free peasant, the Jap
anese declaring, says Public CVpin
ion, that if the prison were ele
vated to the level of a modern pen
itentiary it wouW be too attract
ive and would increase crime.
Upon approaching the prison ir
place of high and forbidding wall#
you see a large country house
with a series of outbuildings, the
prison itself being completely
open, while the wooden bars at
the windows have nothing of the
forbidding aspect of our iron grat
ings.
The interior of the building is
completely open, although for
merly at Itchigoi there was a corri
dor separated from the building
by a paper wall where the guards
slept. The food given the prison
ers is in proportion to their con
duct and. industry, the prisoners
who do not conduct themselves as
they should receiving a cake of
rice which must last for seven
days, while in the case of the or
derly prisoner the same cake
lasts for only four days. The pris
oners who conduct themselves
properly receive also a little horse
meat with potato or pea sauce
with their meals.
CONFEDERATE FLAG WAVES.
Indian Territory Natives Who Still
ILtep the Stars and
Bars Aloft.
“Down in the Indian territory,”
said Mr. J. X. Saddler, of New Or
leans, recently, reports the Wash
ington Post, “the natives still
think they are in the southern
confederacy. At least that is the
way it looked to me when, by acci
dent, I happened to be a spectator
of the democratic territorial con
vention, held at Durant to elect
delegates to the St. Louis conven
tion.
“There were about 50 confeder
ate Hags hung tUl over the hall,
while the solitary emblem of Tin
cle Sam’s government was so
small you could hardly see it; and
in order to make it less conspicu
ous, some delegate with a over
plus of tarantula juice furled it,
greatly to the delight of his asso
dates.
“These people are as good pa
triots as any. and at heart true
Americans. They bring out these
ancient battleflags periodically
Uroin force of habit and not be
cause they are in the least bit dis
loyal. On the same principle they
shriek w itli delirious frenzy when
a brass band plays ‘Dixie,’ and
w ant no other tune played.”
FARE OF RUSSIAN POOR.
peasants Have Table Luxuries Much
in Demand Among Western
j World Epicures.
The Russian peasant, even if the
bread he eats is black, Inis a lux
ury to add to his meal much sought
by epicures in the western world—
the wild mushroom, which grows
thousands upon thousands on the
steppes of Russia. At any time a
full and savory meal is provided
with the addition of sausage and
onions; even a mushroom alone
often contents them for a meal
with their coarse rye bread.
The poorest laborer has also a
luxury drink always available
from the ewr-present samovar,
and the tea they drink would be
the envy of the American con
noi&beur of that beverage, for the
best of China’s tea is found in
Russia and all classes enjoy its
quaiity and fragrance. Never it
the w ater ^flowed to stand on the
tea over a few moments, so nont
of the poisonous tannin is extract
ed, and a delightful, mildly stim
u!«:ling, straw-colored drink is the
result.
It would be well if the Russian
peasant would content himselj
with this, for his only vice it
drunkenness.
Cheering Up the Invalid.
Mrs. Barr, an elderly Scotchwoman,
had been seriously ill for weeks, dur
ing which time even the members of
her immediate family had been ex*
eluded from the sickroom. At last,
however, she so longed to see her rela*
tives that it was deemed advisable to
admit them, one at a time. When
the moment for Mr. Barr’s visit ar
rived the trained nurs® cautioned him
against showing too much emotion
over his wife’s chaftged appearance.
"What you must do," said the nurse,
“is to cheer her up. You must tell her
how much better she is looking, what
a nice color she has in her cheeks, and
how bright her eyes are. Above all
things, you must be cheerful." .
Mr. Barr promised faithfully to say
the .proper things; but when he ap
proached the bedside and beheld the*
ritiful ravages that illness had mad®
in Mrs. Barr's once plump countenance,
he became so agitated that he forgot
the nurse’s caution and exclaimed in
the rich Scotch brogue that strong
emotion always called forth:
“Oh, Maggie, Maggie, woman! whaur
wad ye like to burrlt?”
“Ye’ll not get a chance to bury m®
this time, William Barr." returned the
Invalid, with unexpected spirit.
“You’re all together too anxious.”
It was afterward said that Mrs.
Barr’s rapid recovery dated from that
moment.—Carroll Watson Rankin, in
Lippincott's.
“The new cook comes with fine
recommendations," said Mr. Bliggins.
“Yes/’ answered his wife, “they sound
as if the people she was with thought
a great deal of her, or elpfe that they
were willing to do or say almost any
thing in the hope of getting rid of
her.”—Washington Star.
He Got the Garment.
"A friend of mine down 3outh,”
said John Sharp Williams, "indulged
in the luxury of a negro valet, or body
servant, as we call them. This friend,
in a riot of extravagance, one day
bought a pair of loud-checked trousers.
His negro valet envied him and want
ed them. They did not seem to b©
coming his way fast enough and h»
threw some grease them.
“ ‘Charley,’ said my friend, ‘take
these trousers and clean them.
There’s a grease spot on them.’
"Charley took the trousers, didn’t do
a thing to them, and brought them
back in half a day.
“ ‘Deed, boss,’ he said, ‘I can’t ge .
that grease out.’
“‘Did you scrub them well?’
" ‘Yas, sah.’
“ ‘Did you try a hot iron and a pieci
of brown paper?’
v ‘Yas, sah.’
“ ‘Did you try ammonia?’
“ ‘No, sah, I ain't done tried ’em oi
me yet, but I knows they’ll fit me.’ ”
BUNCH TOGETHER.
Coffee Has a Curious Way of Finall]
Attacking Some Organ.
Alls that come from coffee are cumu
lative, that is, unless the coffee ir
taken away new troubles are contin,
ually appearing and the old ones ge
worse, y
“To begin with,” says a Kansan, *
was a slave to coffee Just as thousand
of others to-day; thought I could mi
live without drinking strong coff>
every morning for breakfast and I ha J
sick headaches that kept me In be '*
Eeveral days every month. Could hares
iy keep my food on my stomach, bi
would vomit as long as I could thro' I
anything up and w'hen I could get he
coffee to stay on my stomach I thougl
I was better.
“Well, two years ago this spring *
was that sick with rheumatism I coul
not use my right arm to do anythin,
had heart trouble, was nervous. A?
nerves were all unstrung and my fli
ger nails and tips were blue as if
had a chill all the time, and my fac
and hands yellow as a pumpkin. M
doctor said it was heart disease ar
rheumatism and my neighbors said
had Bright’s Disease and was going t
die. I
“Well, I did not know what on eart
was the matter and every mornin
would drag myself out of bed and g
to 'breakfast, not to eat anything, bu i
to force down some more coffee. The
in a little while I would be so nervoui
my heart would beat like everythin;
“Finally one morning I told my hu:
band I believed coffee was the cam
of this trouble and that I thought
would try Postum, which I had seen ad j
vertised. He said ‘All right,' so w
pot Postum, and although I did not 111
it at first 1 got right down to businet j
and made it according to direction:4
then 4 was fine and the whole famil f “
got to using it, and I tell you it ha!
worked wonders for me. Thanks t*
Postum in place of the poison, coffe* j
I now enjoy good health, have nc
been in bed with sick headache fc
two years, although I had it for :
years before I began Postum and m
nerves are now strong and I have n
trouble from my heart or from tb
rheumatism. i
“I consider Postum a necessary at ‘
tide of food on my table. My friend
who come here and taste my Postuxi
say it is delicious." Name given by
Postum Co., Battle Creek, Mich,
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