Newspaper Page Text
THE STARKVILLE NEWS.
VOLUME 11. ;j A Wealth of | ij Golden Hair | I By MARY S. PADEN. | (Copyright, 1903, by Dally Story Pub. Oo.) HOW still the man sits! Will he ever move again? A light wind stirs the moonlit leaves outside the cabin window and they rustle and whisper. The patter of the mountain stream over the bowlders and its swish over the sandbar are verj' audible in the midnight silence. From the inner room come, soft and regular, the deep breathings of the tired house mother aud the trundle bed contingent. The lamp flame flickers and moves the man’s shadow on the wall, but he sits as still as if he were dead. Well, when hope is dead —hope and energy and days and gold all poured into an ever-gaping black mine mouth that is as hungry and empty and black as ever when the last dollar, the last hope are swallowed up in it —how much better it would be, would it not, if the man, too, were dead? Toil, privation, danger, they had been nothing in themselves. They would be nothing now, if he had been able ho come home with the golden guerdon he had striven for. But the home-coming had been hardest of all. Cuddled on a cot in the corner, a girlish figure stirred restlessly. llis eyes sought the glow of the golden hair flowing over the pillow. Poor Golden Hair—-the mine had been named for her. Was this golden-haired Millie’s life to be as black a failure as the mine had proven? Was that name of hope and pride to be shunned now as a word that hurt, that was a mock ery? He turned again drearily to the pa per before him —his life insurance; the last plank between the beloved little band and the hungry sea of absolute poverty. - Everything else, together with the best years of his life, the mine had swallowed. If he lived, this would probably have to go. If he died —just died, you know — Perhaps it was the tense stillness that woke the sleeper; perhaps it was the flickering light. Perhaps it was the mystic time for her to awake from girlhood to womanhood. She had been wandering in childish dreams. Sud denly she was broad awake and her soul had seized the look on her father’s face and she lay trembling with the knowledge of a man’s despair. She had heard, with the light-hearted half consciousness of youth, his few sad words, as he had announced, at luhne coming that the mine had “played out,” She had known that mother “felt bad” over it. Now there was revelation in the face, in the very figure of the man alone past midnight, facing despair, with failure back of him. The girl watched him through the. meshes of her shining hair. What she read she could not have voiced, but the woman heart woke in her that knows without knowledge. She could ee the top of the life insurance policy as it turned backward; she knew what it w r as. She felt his thought. After a little she stretched out her ■slim, young arms, yawned, then tossed back her hair and sat up, blinking at the light. “Why, dad, up yet? What time o’ night is it?” 'Then, with her usual girlish bound, she was out and at his side, with her arms around his neck, alternately scoldingand petting. “If this is the way you have been ■doing, no wonder you have been grow ing thin and pale. The mine may play out, 20 mines may play out, your old insurance company' may play out,” tossing the paper aside playfully, “but we don’t want you to play out. If you sit up like this you will get sick and die, and then what would we do with out you?” So she w-ent on, talking against the fear that had clutched her heart, yet without betraying it, soothing and staying the man with the sense of their loving need of him and a dim, forming hope, till she had lifted his burden for the night at least; and soon he, too, was snatching the blest respite of sleep. But the girl lay awake, thinking thinking, thinking—a girl’s thoughts •against a great, demanding, threaten ing new wmrld, a w'orld that could crush men. The stress of it was on her still next morning, and after helping the busy mother set the day’s household machinery in motioij, and inducing the beaten man to lie down and dream I again, she ran down to the stream and laved her head in its cooling waters. Spread out in the sun to dry, the yellow tresses shone like the heart of a mine. So thought a young man springing up the steep path and at her side before she could gather the golden masses into neat restraint. “Why didn’t you .whistle? I didn’t hear you coming,” she said blushing. “1 opened my mouth to, but kept it open at sight of so much wealth,” he answered. “What a lot of hair you have and how long it is—and beauti ful!” he added admiringly, as it es caped her in her nervous haste and billowed about her shoulders and be low her waist. “Do you think so?” she asked shjdy. “I never saw lovelier hair,” he af firmed emphatically. “Most girls would give a fortune for it. I know one who would,” and he laughed. “She is the only one I ever saw with hair anything like yours.” “Who is that?” she queried, curi ously. “Why should she want mine if hers is like it?’* “You remember my telling you that Senator Blayre’s daughter was with us on our camping trip last month? Well, she has lovely golden hair, with those peculiar bronze shades in it, like red gold, something like yours, only hers is not quite so bright and beautiful. I don’t think it is as fine.” “Is it long?” “Well, it isn’t now,” and he laughed again. “It seems she had typhoid fever and had to have her hair cut, and, dis liking short hair, she wore a —ar—well, not exactly a wig—” “A switch ?” “Yes;l guess that’s what you call it. Well, in trying to cross Deer creek on some slippery bowlders one day when we were all out fishing, she and one of the other girls slipped and got into pretty deep water. We had a great time pulling them out. They were soaked from head to feet, and in try ing to dry the switch at the camp fire it got burned. She said she did not mind the value entirely, but it was so hard to match; she had paid a small fortune for that one. She really looks pretty with short curls, but won't be happy till she matches her switch again. But even with the switch there wasn’t such an everlasting lot of it as you seem to have, and so fine and soft!” And he touched it gently, as if it were something precious. Beyond the pleasure of his compli ments Millie was recalling all the sto ries she had read and wept over of i beautiful maidens who had sold their i long locks to buy their famity bread. Must she do this? It was all she had. No pretty clothes, no jewelry; tan on hands and face. Why, even Roy seemed to admire it more than anything else about her. If it were cut off would he ever come all the way up here to see her again, bringing into her life the touch of young companionship and the brightness of the outside w ? orld that had been more to her than she had realized? But, “a small fortune!” Her father’s face at midnight haunted her. At what sacrifice had he stopped? Eve la thing had gone to “Golden Hair,” the mine that was her cruel namesake. Would it not be only appropriate to give this, too? “Roy/’ she said, to the enthusias tic youth, looking at her so approv ingly, “wouldn’t I be a fright if it wasn’t just for my hair? Would you—would you like me without it?” His eyes opened wide. “You see, I washed it this morning because my head ached; perhaps it is too heavy. If I had it cut off, per- JUST BECAUSE. It isn’t that your yellow curls Are of such golden sheen; It isn’t, oh, my queen of girls. That you are seventeen; It isn’t that—you winning elf— Your laughing eyes are blue, It's just because you are yourself That I love you! It isn’t for your rosebud lips That oft have clung to mine; It isn’t for those vagrant sips Of love’s and life’s red wine; ’Tls for no stacks of golden pelf. Ah, no; my love is true! It’s just because you are yourself That I love you! Give ail your charms to other girls. And let them revel In The golden glory of your curls, Your blue eyes, rose leaf skin. And still, you wild, enchanting elf— You know' what V would do! It’ji just because you are yourself That I love you! — J. M. Lewis. In Houston Post. He Didn’t C arc A Bit. * Teacher —Johnnie, this is the worst composition in the class, and I’m go ing to write to your father and tell him. Johnnie —Don’t keer if ye do; he wrote it fer me. —Tit,-Bit*. STARKVILLE, MISS., FRIDAY, APRIL 24, 1903. haps my head wouhfn’t ache. If I cut it off, do you think Miss Blayre would really buy it?” When he heard how the father had come home, he understood about the headaches and the mercenary willing ness to trade golden locks for green backs. His young heart, too, swelled w r ith impotent desire to help. When he met her at his sister's in Golden, to take her to the gradua tion exercises at the hall, he looked at her twice as if to be sure she was the same girl. “Well, what is it?” she laughed and dimpled saucily. “What is it —you?” ho retorted. “What has happened? What have you done to yourself? Has some thing happenedhe repeated eager ly, looking at her happy eyes spark ling so bewitchingly under her luxu rious golden pompadour, “so that you won’t need to —to—” and he touched the wonderful pompadour fearfully, with one finger. “Well, on the principle that the condemned convict gets a square meal and his last luxury,” she said mischievously, “I determined to spend my last dollar on a shampoo—• not the kind I have been used to giv ing it up in the creek, but the regu lar hairdresser sort —and a ‘coiffure,* as they call what I call ‘fixing’ it, and this is one result. Do you like it?” And she turned her head dain tily as a bird, from side to side be fore his admiring eyes. “You look stunning!” was his sat isfactory reply. “But here’s the miracle,” she went on, her eyes dancing more gladly than ever. “The girl who did my hair was the conversational kind of a female barber.” “Oh!” he groaned; “I didn’t know you had them, too.” “Well, we don’t mind: we don’t go so often, and it was ducky for me this one was. While washing my hair, she asked politety: ‘Excuse me, but don’t you do something?* That wasn’t very definite, and I didn’t get her point. I said I did things occasionally. Then she asked me if I did not work in a frameshop. I did not understand her. It. seems she comes from the east, and she went on to say that the gold-leaf had gotten into my hair and on my scalp just like it did back there in the hair of the girls that worked at gilding picture frames, but she had not heard of a frame factory in Denver. When I told her I did not know any thing about such work, she asked me what I used on my hair and how I washed it. I told her the only fixings it got was a little soap and that I washed it in the creek at home! be cause the water was so nice and soft. “‘Oh!’ she said, ‘l’ve heard of them washing gold in the creeks; placer mining, you call it, don’t you?’ And then it dawned on me!” “Flour gold!” he exclaimed excit edly. “The creek gravel is probably full of it and the fine flour gold is churned up and kept floating by the force of the current. Your hair would act like an amalgam plate. The gold would be precipitated and collect among the strands of it and deposit on your scalp. Why, there is most likely a mine at your very door, while your poor father has been working so hard and putting all he had into the ‘Golden Hair,’ away over the mountain!” The Golden-Hair placer was pay dirt from the start, and already a half-million is a conservative esti mate. TOWER PLANS BERLIN PALACE. German Amlmssador Will Rival Rus sian Representative in Splendor of His Establishment. United Slates Ambassador Charle magne Tower contemplates, it is said, not only renting one of the finest pal aces in Berlin, but rivaling the Russian ambassador. Count Osten-Sacken. in gorgeousness of equipages and number of liveried attendants. Mr. Tower promises to become the most popular American representative ever accred ited to Berlin, the German press as serts. He speaks German fluently, but what most impressed the Germans is the promptness and readiness with which he took his children away from a Swiss school to place them in a Ger man establishment. The ambassador received part of his education in a south German town, and is fond of comparing notes with the Germans on school affairs. Hyenas always fight kneeling, the shank of the foreleg being the most vulnerable part of their body. Lesson inflmericanHisioru in Pnzzie THE FEDERAL. VICTORY AT PEA RIDGE. Find Gen. Frana Slgel. Practically all of the first year of the civil war was marked by de feats for the federal forces west of the Mississippi river. There had been several campaigns of minor importance, but all had been attended with disaster for the union forces.* On December - 29, 1861, the federal army, un der command of Gen. Curtis, left Kolia, Mo., to drive the confederate forces under Price from the state. This campaign culminated with the battle of Pea Ridge, which occurred on March 7 and 8, 1862, and which was a de cided victory for the federal troops. The last hour of this battle was marked by very sharp fighting when the union division under Gen. Franz S’gel advanced to retake the position at Elkhorn Tavern, the success of which led to the defeat of Price and his retreat into Arkansas. SCHOOL AND CHURCH. Cornell has 26 fraternities. The Roman Catholic nuns in the world are alleged by a statistician to number 458.000. The Yale university Glee club pays its way and something more, it seems. Last year the total gross re ceipts were $15,099, a surplus of $3,382 being shown. The club has given SOOO for a scholarship fund and $1,21 I s for support of the university crew. . Some missionaries lately returned from Japan say there is a great de mand for American teachers there. Salaries ranging from $75 to $135 a month are offered them, and houses are provided in addition. The gov ernment is devoting great attention to the development of educational in stitutions. There are row a number of American teachers in the big schools. In the report of the treasurer of Yale university the general funds of all the departments is represented as $6,806,752 assets of the whole univer sity. The income and expense ac count of the university shows that the expenses were $796,883 and the income $778,892, the income falling behind the expense $17,991. It is shown in the report that under the elective system the expense for sal aries is much larger. Cornell professors will be pensioned after reaching tlje age of 70 years. One hundred and fifty thousand dol lars will be set aside for the pur pose by the university board ami it will be placed at compound interest until 1914, when it will equal $250,000. Each professor retired will receive a pension of $1,500, three-fourths of which will be paid from the pension fund and one-fourth of which will be contributed by the professors. It is expected, hoivever, that professors who reach the age of 70 before 1914 will also be given a pension. Some curious facts in the matter of large gifts for charity during last year are given in Appleton’s Annual. Of the immense amount given for ed ucational purposes, five-sixths were contributed by persons still living, while six-sevenths of the total for foreign missionary work came through bequests. The gifts and be quests, allowance being made for the breaking of some wills, aggregate $68,346,789, divided as follows: Edu cational institutions, $20,127,525; church and Young Men’s Christian association work, $7,588,820; foreign missionary work, $263,500; benevolent societies, $4,364,724; hospitals and asylums, $26,480,958; museums and art institutions, $6,372,422; libraries, $2,157,000; Cooper Union, $942,440; New York Historical society, $50,000. NUMBER 7. HUMOROUS. What Did She Expect? —Mrs. De Style—“One of those eggs 1 bought here this morning had a chicken in it.’’ Grocer —“Veil, madam, dit you oxshpect to find a mocking pird in it?” —N. Y. Sun. Miseries of High Life.—He —“You look tired.” She —“I have been to my dressmaker, getting fitted. But you look tired, too.” He —“Yes." I met my tailor and he gave me fits.” —X. Y. Weekly. Golden Harvest. —The Druggist— “ Did old Bullyon’s case 3'ield to your treatment?” The Physician —“It did. I treated him for six months and his heirs paid me $1,500.” —Chicago Daily News. Beryl —“Such table manners! Why, I fear that Jim eats the pie that his wife bakes with a knife.” Sibyl —“If you saw the pies you’d imagine he’d have to eat them with a saw, a chisel and a stone crusher.” —Baltimore Herald. A Bust Sure. —“I don’t expect a bust in Westminster abbey,” said the youthful poet, “No,” replied the old man. “That would be too fur’reach in’; just keep on with the writin’ business, an’ you’ll bust nearer home!” —Atlanta Constitution. “Clara,” said my aunt to her little daughter, who had been spending the day with a little neighbor, “were you a good girl during your visit to-day?” “I don’t know, mamma; I just had so much fun that I forgot to pay any ’tention to myself,” replied Clara. — The Little Chronicle. Jilson —“Do you think Mercer knows anything about parliamentary law?” Brown—“Oh, he’s all right. He’s the model presiding officer. I saw him in the chair at a meeting once, and instead of rapping on the table for order he hit the man who was making the disturbance over the head with the gavel.” —Boston Tran script. What the White House la. To the American people the white house represents the personality of the president of the United States. To the politician the magic words may stand for the goal of an ambition too often associated with the deepest and most poignant disappointment; while to the historian the name may typi fy decisions that have marked epochs in the affairs of nations. In the mind of the people, however, the official character of the building has always been subordinate to its domestic uses. Popularly speaking, the -white house is the place not where the president works, but where he entertains.—. From Charles Moore’n “The Restora tion of the White House.” in Cen~ tury.