The Starkville news., March 06, 1903, Image 1

About The Starkville news. (Starkville, Miss.) 1902-1960

Image provided by: Mississippi Department of Archives and History

                
THE STARKVILLE NEWS.
VOLUME I.
A WEDDING
TRIP
By SOPHIE HAMMOND.
IT WAS the second day out from
Havre. The sea was demonstrat
ing how disagreeable, in a quiet way,
it could be; and the deck was emptying
rapidly into the staterooms.
Powell, smoking with his back to
the rail, was realizing w'hat a bore it
was to be crossing with a mobof French
people, and not an acquaintance on
board. That girl with the wind-blown
hair over there was an American; but
how the dickens —
The occupant of a steamer chair near
him got up suddenly, and the move
ment made him turn. As his glance
fell upon the pallid old lady who had
arisen, he sfuiled quickly.
“Miss Lockhart!” he exclaimed.
“Why, I didn’t know you were aboard.
I’m afraid you’re finding this mo
tion unpleasant. Can I —get you any
thing?”
The old lady clutched the rail, turn
ing a shade more livid.
“Thank you, Capt. Powell,” sh
gasped, stiffly, “but my niece will as
sist me.”
The girl had put down her writing
and came hastily forward.
“Oh, Aunt Emily. I'm afraid you’re
not feeling well,” she murmured, anx
iously. “Let me send for —”
“Help me to my stateroom, Madge,”
said the old lady with dignity. “1 am
ill.”
When the niece came back t o her scat
tered writing materials an hour later.
Powell turned from his contemplation
of the sea.
“I hope your aunt is better, Miss
Lockhart,” he said, with polite solici
tude.
The girl raised her eyes, and looked
at him curiously for a moment.
“Thank you,” she said, formally,
dropping them again; “just now she
is asleep, but I am afraid she is suf
fering a great deal.”
“Oh, she’ll probably be all right
by morning,” Powell observed, reas
suringly . “It’s this nasty rocking that
knocked her up.”
“When Aunt Emily goes below it is
long before she reappears,” she said.
Then she looked at him again. “It was
in Florida that you met her, wasn’t
it?” she asked.
“Yes, last winter. We were both on
a search for health. I don’t think she
remembered me at first.”
She had taken up her portfolio and
opened it on her knee.
“Oh, she knew you perfectly,” she
said; and resumed her writing so os
tensibly that Powell, after a moment,
shrugged his shoulders and walked
off.
But there really wasn’t another soul
on the boat to speak to. He couldn’t
talk French to the French women;
and, looking them over, he decided
that he wouldn’t if he could. For
awhile he wandered about, bored and
aimless. But finally he found himself
again by the side of his reserved young
countrywoman, doing his usually suc
cessful best to make himself entertain
ing. And afterward, whenever she was
on deck, he was generally to be found
beside her.
She was rather unappreciative at
first. She didn’t laugh whenever she
might have been expected to; and she
let him do most of the talking. But
now and then a subject would come up
to particularly interesting that she
was drawn into it in spite of herself,
and after several such relapses the
stiffness couldn’t be regained. He told
her stories of the army in the Philip
pines, and of the adventures, thrilling
and ludicrous, of his own regiment;
they talked of the old world sights
they had both seen; they discussed re
ligion liberally, ethics gingerly, poli
tics warmly. They were both clever;
the universe was about them, inviting
criticism; they dissected heaven and
earth. And if sometimes a trick of
her eyelashes, or the sunlight in her
hair, got in the way of his logic, he
honestly didn’t recognize the symp
toms.
\Vh en they were more than half
way across Miss Emily put in a brief
appearance on deck. Powell had count
ed on a good deal of friendliness from
her, for .she had shown him quite
marked attention when his wound had
made him something of a lion. But
the mal-de-mar seemed to have worked
havoc with her disposition, and she
responded to all attempts at conver
sation with a resentful snappishness
that was disconcerting. So that the
STARKVILLE, MISS., FRIDAY, MARCH G, 1903.
regret caused by her second forced
retirement was not unalloyed.
It was the chance remark of a passen
ger passing him in the moonlight—
“ Only two more days aboard,” —that
brought Powell to a sudden realization
of what the fates had been weaving.
He sat up straight and stared out
across the ocean.
“I’ve been forgetting everything,”
he muttered. “I ought to have told
them, of course; bur ’pon my word, I
didn’t think of it. Well, if there’s any
harm done” —he drew his breath sharp
ly—“it’s only to myself.”
There was a brushing of skirts past
him.
“1 can’t persuade her to move,” said
a girl’s voice, plaintively, as its own
er sank into her steamer chair. “I
really believe she is worse now than
she was at first. To think of her hav
ing come abroad for the sea air, and
being forced to stay in that stuffy
little purgatory all the way across!
And it’s been such lovely weather,
too!”
“Perfect,” Powell acquiesced, glanc
ing up at the brilliant sky. “A con
trast to when I crossed in the other
direction a month ago—on my wed
ding trip.”
His companion looked up.
“Your wedding trip!” she repeated,
with a slightly puzzled smile. “\Miat
has happened to the bride?”
“1 don’t know,” said Powell, savage
ly, “or care!”
The girl laughed.
“How ghastly!” she murmured.
“Oh, I’m in earnest,” said Powell,
jerkily. “Didn’t you read in the pa
pers about that old millionaire who
left half of his money to the son of
one friend and half to the daughter of
another, on condition that they’d
marry each other, and not let any of his
accumulations get into the hands of
people he didn’t know? Well, I’m
the man in the story. We’d never set
eyes on each other, but we both want
ed the money, so we complied with the
proviso.”
“You —married her?” asked the girl,
paling a little.-
“Six months ago. in New York. It
must have looked a queer affair to out
siders. One doleful morning my law
yer and 1 drove to the magistrate’s of
fice, and as we came in one door, an
other lawyer, with an old gentleman
and lady and three girls, all in short
skirts and shirt waists and brown
veils, entered by another. We all
bowed, and then the magistrate called
our names, and I and one of the girls
—it might have been any of them, for
all I knew —went up to a desk, and an
swered a few’ questions, and w r rote our
names. The lawyers gave us each a
deed of separation to go in force at the
door. Then we all bowed again, and
the family party got into a carriage
and drove off, and I —l had a two
months’ furlough, you know —for the
honeymoon —came abroad to get out
of the talk.”
His listener’s color had faded en
tirely.
“Her name was Margaret Kennedy,
wasn’t it?” she asked, slowly. “1 went
to school with her. She —”
“Oh, you needn’t hesitate,” said
Powell, with a shdrt laugh. “I’ve had
several fetching descriptions of her.
She’s a Jew at a bargain, I know by
experience. And her voice, and —er
—looks, impressed me even through
the veil.”
“She wasn’t pretty, certainly, or
very, popular; but she was well born,
or course, and thoroughly well bred”
—she was speaking with an evident ef
fort now.
“Oh, there is the steward,” she said,
rising. ‘“I —I must see if he hasn’t
something I can coax auntie to eat.”
Powell gazed after her, his face rath
er colorless, too.
SOMETHING TO LIVE FOR.
Used to get so tired of living that I thought
I’d like to quit;
Troubles—never come singly—struck me
ever*y little bit.
Black Despair a frequent guest was in the
house I call my heart,
With the fiendscalled Hate and Envy—each
with deadly, poisoned dart.
But I’ve changed my tune completely, and
I’m singing all the while — *
For there’s worlds of good in people, and
abundant cause to smile!
Every black cloud hanging o’er me has
the sun on t’other side.
And the cloud-sea’s heavenward surface ds
a glittering silver tide;
Every dewdrop is a teardrop—but the rain
bow’s hidden there!
Every sigh bespeaks a heartache—but its
aftermath’s a prayer.
Every sobbing night-time zephyr prints
love’s kiss on trees and grass;
All the sorrows that befall us make us bet
ter ere they pass.
“All that Is is best”—l know it: So I’m
singing all the while—
For there’s worlds of good in people, and
abundant cause to smile!
Oh. I’m mighty glad I’m living, and I hope
i’ll never quit;
“It can’t be that she —Bah, I haven’t
the right to even think of such a thing.
She’d resent it desperately,” he said
under his breath, turning again to the
sea. “Wonder if I can get through the
next two days without behaving like
a cad?”
But in the morning Miss Emily
emerged from her seclusion, probably
against her will, and the day passed
quite unconstrainedly. When the last
morning came Powell was silent and
stern, and Madge was absorbedly so
licitous of her aunt’s comfort; but the
final parting was conventional enough.
As their cab bore the aunt and niece
away from the docks, the girl drew a
quick sigh.
“A soldier and a gentleman!” she
murmured, with a little laugh; but
there was a glow’ in her face, neverthe
less.
The city awoke under the weeping
skies. Powell, in his club window,
gazed gloomily down on the dripping
streets. Thedisgustthathis whole ap
pearance bespoke, however, was not
for the dismal prospect, but for the
years that were stretching, in his imag
ination, interestless and wearisome
ahead of him. He was sick of the
army, he told himself, and, worse, sick
of civilization. As for that pile of
money in the bank —he loathed the
thought of it.
One of the club servants brought
him a letter, and he tore it open indif
ferently; but his face changed as he
drew it out.
“I would not write this,” he read,
“except that you would learn it from
someone else. It was your own mis
take in the beginning, you will re
member, in taking for granted that my
name was the same as that of my
mother’s sister. And, in self-defense,
1 could not do less than leave you under
the delusion, though my aunt strong
ly disapproved. lam sorry that the
only time we are likely to meet, 1
should seem to have been passing un
der false colors. But for the future,
1 beg you will believe, 1 shall take as
'good care of your name as you shall
yourself. Margaret Kennedy Powell.”
Without a change in his attitude,
Powell .stood staring "down at the pa
per in his hand. Then he winced
sharply.
“What a fool I must have looked!”
he muttered, the dark color rising in
his face.
Miss Lockhart was deep in the ap
prehensive delights of unpacking her
bric-a-brac, w hen a maid, entering, an
nounced:
“A gentleman for Mrs. Powell.”
“It’s the landlord,” said Miss Lock
hart. sharply. “1 expected him. Mind,
Madge, if he asks for another cent, you
go!”
Her niece had risen from beside a
trunk, with changing color, and put
her hand nervously to her hair.
“Very well, auntie.” she murmured
vaguely, from the door.
In the hall below’ she paused before
the drawing-room portieres; then, part
ing them, stopped short on the thresh
old.
“Capt. Powell!” she exclaimed, in a
low voice.
He came quickly forward.
“Oh, you knew’ I would come,” he
said, unsmilingly, taking her hands.
She laughed.
“You’ve made a complete fool of
me, 1 know,” he said, flushing. “It must
have been tremendously amusing.
Heaven only knows what I said; but
you’ve paid me out for it in the last
two hours. I’ve been a victim of com
plications from the first. But —oh,
Madge —I needn’t begin at the begin
ning, need 1 ?”
She drew away her hands, and lifted
her head in the air.
“Certainly,” she said. National
Magazine.
Trouble’s sure to keep on coming- to me
•every Little bit;
Black Despair may send his billets to the
house I call my heart.
But I’m not at home to anyone who bears
a poisoned dart.
I have changed my tune completely—hear
me singing all the while —
For there’s worlds of good in people—lots
of things to make you smile.
—S. W. Gillilan, in Los Angeles Herald.
Bis Wine Cistern.
At Asti, in California, a cistern 104
feet long by 34 feet wide, and 21 feet
deep, was formed in a hillside for the
storage of wine. The immense tank
was lined with concrete two feet thick
and coated inside with a glaze as im
penetrable as blass. The capacity of
the tank is 500,000 gallons.
Happy Release,
“Are you sure Mr£. Brown has left
her husband?”
“Absolutely certain. I met Mr,
Brown to-day w ith a broad grin on his
face.”—Chicago American.
LESSON in AMERICAN HISTORY in PUZZLE
GEN. JACKSON’S BATTLE WITH THE SEMINOLE INDIANS.
Find “Billy Bowlegs.”
Gen. Jackson entered Florida to suppress the Seminole Indians in
March, ISIS. He occupied the Spanish post of St. Marks, and marched to
the Indian town ot Suwanee, where he hoped to catch the Seminole leader,
Billy Bowlegs, but in this was not successful. He next captured the Span
ish colonial capitol at Pensacola, and declared the whole territory under
American rule. Spain protested against his actions, anti he was officially
censured, though the territory he had acquired by force of arms was ne\er
again occupied by Spain, and was officially transferred in February, ISIS,
though it was not until October, 1820, that the treaty was ratified by the
Spanish crown.
SCHOOL AND CHURCH.
"Beginning next summer, the Uni
versity of Zurich will provide a course
of lectures on journalism, political and
general.
Orders have been issued to the Rus
sian police to forbid the sale or use
of phonograph rollers for the repro
duction of sacred music.
Episcopal laymen, including J. Pier
pout Morgan and Senator Hanna, are
raising a million dollars for mission
ary work among the Philippines.
A bicycling scholarship is to be es
tablished at Birmingham university
by the British bicycling clubs as a
memorial to J. K. Starley, of Coventry,
who introduced the safety model. The
scholar must study road locomotion.
Half the SB,OOO needed has been raised.
Mr. Vlok, the Dutch minister at
Piquetberg, South Africa, who was
compelled to retire from his pastorate
on account of his loyal attitude during
the war, has been presented with dn
address and the sum of £ 1,000, raised
by public subscription. *
It is probably a fact known only to
comparatively few people that there
is in Ireland a branch-of the Methodist
(or Wesleyan) body, which has always
remained in full communion with the
Church of England in accordance with
the will of their founder, John Wesley.
This body is known as the “Church
Methodist society.*’
Bishop Coleman, of Delaware, goes
on a tramp through the mountains of
West Virginia every summer and of
course has many odd experiences.
Last summer, clad in old and dust-cov
ered clothes, he entered an inn where
several mountaineers sat talking. One
of them, with characteristic hospital
ity, invited him to take a drink, but the
bishop courteously declined, “Do you
eat hay?” said the native, “Why, no,
my friend.” said the stranger, wonder-
“Then,” said the mountaineer,
with scorn, “I don’t think you are fit
company for man or beast. Come,
boys, let’s take something.”
Compensations of Pastors.
In the ministry, service and salary
are not coequal terms. The high of
fice was not created for the advan
tage of the holder, and the calling is
degraded into a mere profession
when it made the subject of money
equivalents. The work of the minis
try is more especially in the realm
of the moral and spiritual, and there
fore can never be “financially com
pensated in any exhaustive commer
cial sense.” Nevertheless, the minis
ter adapted by conduct and learning
to his high calling ordinarily does
have, and should have, a salary pro
oortionate to the demands of the field
he is tilling, and compensations far
more satisfying and worthy of con
sideration than salaries. —Century.
NUMBER 52.
HUMOROUS.
Polly*—“She i,'. ai 1' M '* K*P lihcr
fortune.” Dolly—‘‘She must mean her
misfortune.” —Baltimore Herald.
Basis of Comparison. —‘‘Is he so ig
norant, then?” “Ignorant! Why, say!
he’s so ignorant and behind the times
that they took him on a murder jury
in a sensational case.” —Chicago Post.
Proper Treatment. —Mrs. Goodman
—‘‘You don’t mean to say you threw
hot water on her when she fainted?”
Mrs. McSlug—“Av coorse. We wor
havin’ a bit av a foight, an’ ’twas wid a
brick that she feinted.” —Philadelphia
Press.
An Empty Assurance. —“He says
he’d share his last dollar with me.”
“Y'es,” said the man who looks at
things coldly; “but he is a man who
will take precious good care never to
get down to his last dollar.” —Wash-
ington Star.
Anxious Patient—“Do you weally
think, doctah, that I shall have a gween
old age?” Gruff Doctor —“Unless you
die young or acquire a little common
gumption, you have before you a pros
pect of the greenest old age possible
to humanity.”—Baltimore American.
Solving a Problem. —George —“Wom-
en are still pushing their way into all
industries.” Jack—“ That’s so. I have
just been discharged to make way for
a woman.” “You have? Well! What
are you going to do now?” “I am try
ing to marry the woman.” —Washing-
ton Times. *
Bad Spelling.
When was the last spelling book pub
lished? Have our youth outgrown the
use of that once important text book?
It would seem oftentimes, from their
ignorance of the rules of spelling and
their arrangement of the letters ia
words, that they disdained the practice
of good orthography. It is all very
well to talk about some people being
natural spellers and some being poor
spellers. There are faults of ear which
are hard to overcome; but eyes can be
trained to correct these faults; and de
cent spelling under all circumstances,
at least from every graduate of the
grammar grade, should be demanded.
It is a fact of observation, explain it
how you will, that pupils who have tak
en prizes for scholarship in grammar
schools of good standing cannot w rite
a letter free of blunders in spelling;
another fact, that pupils in high
schools, remarkably well read for their
years, are guilty of gross errors in
spelling; still another, that pupils who
have the wit and brains and style to
write a charming letter, misspell abom
inably; and yet another, that boys
seeking entrance to colleges of first
rank, able to pass examinations in
mathematics and science, spell after
the fashion of “witch.”—Boston Tran
script,