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The Starkville News
PUBLISHED WEEKLY. 6TARKVILUS, ; ; : MISSISSIPPI. A QPFfIAI f CORRESPONDENCE I By HATTIE PRESTON RIDER g (Copyright, 1904, by Daily Story Pub. Cos.) LINA leaned back in her chair and surveyed the clearly-written sheet in her hand with dimpled amusement. “You’ll answer St, of course?” ques tioned Mabel, ballon viously. "Indeed I shall,” Hina responded. “What’s more, since he is kind enough to presume 1 have a husband, I shall tell him that worthy gentleman never dictates my correspondence. It is a long way the most intersting tribute, Mab, that my genius has ever received.’ “There’s always a certain risk in friendly correspondence with a stran ger,” ventured Mabel, oracularly. L-ina’s eyes danced. “No doubt it will wreck my domestic peace,” she agreed. Then she shook her head. "This Dtvight Hillman is a gen tleman, Mab. I hive him, on paper, at least. You people who see me eating steak and potatoes every day never realize how delicious it is to be regarded, once in awhile, as a creature all intellect and imagination.” She stood up and stretched out her strong young arms, with a wholesome, ringing laugh. "Suppose his interest should become too personal?” Mabel suggested. "It couldn’t,” Lina declared. “There’s the suppositious husband, you know.” “Even an actual husband isn’t always ANSWERED IT AS THE WRITER HAD EARNESTLY BEGGED. a safeguard," insisted the pessimist; but Lina laughed again. "Don’t croak, cara mia. It’s only a harmless lark, anyway.’ So she penned her reply to the un known admirer of her literary handi craft, her eyes sparkling over her naive allusion to the imaginary husband, and her corroborative full signature, "Lina Watts Radford." Clever as she was in character-sketching, she did not realize how much of her own warm, shy. mirth loving personality went into that let ter. Hillman’s second came with amazing promptness, so manly and respectful, with its undercurrent of .ardent interest, that Lina had two minds to put it in her private drawer, instead of filing it prim ly with her business correspondence. Hemernberng Mabel’s dismal prophecies, she sternly denied the leaning. But she answered it, as the writer had earnestly begged she should. That was the beginning. Before many •weeks Lina found herself watching for the white messengers with a feverish ex pectancy even the crisp business mis sives of the publishers had never excited •within her. Hillman had told her that he was 37, and an architect by profession. For her self, she avoided anything relating to her private affairs, partly from real shy ness, partly in a spirt of mischief, re membering his former allusion to her supposed marriage. They wrote mainly of current literary matters, her own methods, plots, or proposed work. Often, too, she found his frank criticism invalu able. The correspondence ran on for six months with blissful smoothness. Then a change crept into Hillman’s letters. They grew constrained brief. Lina, in doubt and misery, answered as briefly. A long, nerve-racking silence followed, broken at last by a curt note from HUI - **T have not written, because I couM not without betraying what I should have kept. God knows I have fought it Jjard enough, but through this corre spondence I have grown to love you with all my strength. Forgive my con fession, and forget it in the happiness of your -ull life. lam going away. "D. H." Tbe wo ids blurred before Lina’s stricken eyes. One fact stsod out to her in naked accusation: she had virtu ally tojd a falsehood, for the first time in her life. And this was her reckoning. Her fingers were like Ice as she slipped the letter into its envelope, and laid it away. A white line grew around her lips, at sight of its fellows, with their clear, bold superscription, lying in tho little drawer; for Lina had long since ceased to file them with the business correspondence. A sob rose in her throat, but she choked it back. The truth of her heart had grown very ap parent to her in that half hour. Dull days followed, wherein her work dragged. She grew thin and pale, despite her whipped-up interest healthful pursuits that had hitherto been a delight and inspiration. No one but Mabel Rogers guessed the se cret; and, at the end of a miserable half year, Lina’s people sent hW. a dispirited ghost of herself, to recuper ate at the summer home of a friend. There, Lina protested in vain that rest and quiet were all she needed. “I don’t want to be entertained,” she begged; but the lady turned a deaf ear. “You’re a living demonstration ct my theory that thinking is injurious, ’ she declared, flippantly. “Now f , the corrective principle is stirring up, ex citement, pleasure,” So she issued in vitations for a lawn party. “There’s a friend of Fred’s coming, to whom you should be particularly nice,” said Mrs. Mayfield, teasingly, on the evening in question. ‘‘He doesn’t dream I know it, but he purloined a cut of you out of up' Writers’ Journal once when he was here.” Lina flushed scarlet, remembering other things. She laughed a little, but with an internal sickening: sense of loss, and heartily hoped the unknown pilferer of her picture might have a toothache and stay at home. He had slipped her mind entirely, when, three Luurs later, sweet and bewitching in her pink organdie, she stood among her friend’s guests. Oh! It was all very dear of Maud. But she would have given every pretty dress she owned to be out of it and away. Past a fluffy crepe-dc-chine shoul der, presently, she saw Mrs. Mayfield piloting a tall, dark-haired, fine-look ing man directly toward her. Even then she did not recall her hostess warning. A moment later, the group about her fell back, and Mrs. Mayfield presented her companion, whose name, however, Lina failed to catch. "Fred’s friend, dear. Don’t be too long getting acquainted. I want you both on the ices” said the lady as she slipped away. The stranger offered his arm, and Lina moved mechanically with him across the grass. She had caught one hasty glimpse of glowing eyes and compressed lips that half-frightened her; a trite speech died in her throat, and she dumpfy suffered herself to be led. “I’d like to know!” burst forth the stranger, impulsively, at safe distance from the others, “what is your opin ion of a man who jumps at conclu - sions, and then rushes madly off with out even testing them? Miss Radford —Lina” —his voice softened with sud den, shaken gentleness —“Can you con - ceive of a greater blunderer than I have been?” A swift terror took possession of Lina. Who was this—a well-drqssed lunatic? or— She paused and drew away, facing him in the light of the overhanging lanterns. With a deep breath, he reached out. taking forcible possession of her hands, “God knows what I’ve suffered all these wretched months,” he went on, unsteadily. ‘‘For it was only this morning I learned from Mayfield what a monstrous mistake I’d made. Tell me. dear, that I shall not wake in a few minutes and find it only a mock ing dream, after all.” With a smothered, hysterical cry, Lina snatched away her hands as he would have lifted them to his lips. A quick change, that cut her to the heart in spite of herself, passed over his face, leaving it white. “How dare you!” she quavered. “What are you saying to me, an utter stranger?” He stood quite still, bewildered. “When a man has written a woman such letters as mine lo you, he hardly merits that title, does, he, dear?” be asked, a trifle huskily. The lighted lawn surged round Lina. She put out one hand, grasping noth ing. “Your —letters?” she gasped; and the next instant the audacious stranger had his arm around her, drawing her back into the frinedly shadow of ihe maples. “My letters, of course,” he was as suring her, with a suspicious break in his laughing voice. “Why, Lina, did you not realize it was I—Dwight Hill man’s self? Oh, darling! I have not hoped in vain, have I?—though 30U were so cruel as to let me go on be lieving all those months that you wer* the wife of another!” “Go and fetch Lina and Mr. Hillman, will you, Fred?” said Mrs. Mayfield half an hour later. Her eyes danced When her husband returned, with a face of comic dismay. “You daren't? Well, Grace and Farley will do. I’m to make Dwdght a present oj that mutilated copy of the Writer*’ Journai.* •*CET THERE” IN AMERICA. The Motto That Moves Many to Un dermine Health and Degrade Their Manhood. If we may judge by Its effects on those who obey Its command, our slang motto; “Get there” —is not an elevating or en nobling one. On the contrary, it is bru talizing. It appeals to the lower and not to the higher instincts in man, says Orison Swett Marden, in Success. Yet this motto is quoted all over our land. It is demoralizing the law; It is creeping into the pulpit; it speaks from our schools; it looks out of the eyes of the ambitious; it undermines health; and It frequently destroys all nobility of character. The old-fashioned, slow and sure method of attaining a competency are tabooed. The man who spends half a lifetime in making a fortune is regarded as “slow.” Short-cut processes, at any cost, are the demand of the hour, Frqm the time a boy ejrters school, he is goad ed on by unnatural ambitions. He is not satisfied with steady, permanent growth. He must progress by leaps and bounds. Boys and girls are encouraged by their parents to get ahead in their classes, even if they must burn mid night oil and risk their health i order to do so. Business and professional men are eo accustomed to “hurry-up” methods and forcing processes that they find it impossible to relax even after business hours. They want to be on lightning express trains all the time. They can not enjoy their evenings at home. They are uneasy; their minds are continually on the alert. Constantly living at high pressure, they have lost the power to slow down. Indeed, the modern busi ness man is like a horse which has been trained to run on a track. He is not willing to trot or walk, but must run all the time as if for dear life. It is pitiable to watch a typical Amer ican going to business in the morning. He is not content to sit quietly and re lax until the train carries him to his destination in the city. Long before that he leans forward in his seat and makes ready to leap off while the train is mov ing. With even* muscle tense, an anx ious, worried expression in his face, and a nervous twitching of the hands, clutching his cane, umbrella, parcel, or the back of the seat in front of him. he wastes enough energy and strength before he reaches his office to execute the labor of half the day. The same feverish intensity and anxious haste are seen in restaurants, at lunch counters, on the streets, and wherever men and women are intent on business. Yet these people wonder why they are so exhausted at night! They do not realize that every muscle and every nerve in their bodies have been draining off their reserve energy all day. squandering vitality as the leaks in a dam steal the reserve power which would have ground,# grist, sawed lum ber. or woven cloth had it been forced through the mill wheel. The life of the average American is feverish unhealthy and unnatural. We are in too great haste with every thing. and consequently, lack poise. In the perpetual rush to “get there” we are in very great danger of losing our equilibrium. Even boys and girls are trying to be leaders. They want to do something unusual —something that will bring them into publicity, and get their names and photographs into the pa pers. An average student is eager to lead his class, not because lie loves knowledge much, but because he loves distinction mere. A young clergyman overworks in an effort to be popular. A lawyer becomes prematurely old in trying to keep pace with his practice. A man of affairs keeps himself loaded down with responsibilities, with di rectorships and memberships in a score of institutions until a paralytic stroke, or heart failure, puts an end to his abnormal activities. Old age is overtaking men and wom en in middle life. Under our forcing system people hardly reach full growth before they begin to show signs of decay. What a travesty on life it is to see aged men and women in their thirties and forties! This pushing and crowding, jam ming and elbowing, and rushing at express speed from day to day, from the nursery to the grave, is not life; it is a race for death. Kecreation-Mad Generation. We live —to sum up the situation — In a generation that has gone recrea tion-mad. Outdoor sports and Indoor sports fill up our leisure moments, or in some cases, all our moments. Ath letics, golf, tennis, games of all man ners and lacking manners, rise, flour ish, and decay. The race horse, the bicycle, and the automobile pursue each other across the stage of action We play at being intellectual, we play at being religious, we play at being “tough,” and all three are merged and included in being m6n and women “of the world.” . . , The instrument of an occasional hilarity has an unfortu nate tendency to develop into the min ister to a quenchless thirst —Mrs. Martha Baker Dunn, in Atlantic. Ear Short. Husbands are never what they are nagged up to be. —N. Y. Press. PASSING OF THE BLONDES. . - - - ■ i- Light-Haired People Are Growing . Scarcer with Each Succeed ing Generation. “The blondes are a disappearing hu man type,” says Anthropologist Otis T. Mason, of the Smithsonian institution according to a recent report, “They arc going fast. Blonde women are becom ing scarcer every year, and to-day there are not nearly so many fair haired and blue-eyed beauties as there were 50 years ago. In each successive generation there are fewer of them than in the last. Already such a thing as a real blonde, purely such, is so rarely seen in this country as to excite remark, and golden tresses are so infrequent that veritable ones are usually suspected to be dyed. In short, it has become evi dent that before long this type of fem inine loveliness will have practically vanished from the earth, “You may judge how rapidly the blondes are going when you considerthe fact that wherever a brunette man mar ries a blonde woman, or vice versa, GG per cent, of the children born have dark hair and eyes. At that rate not many centuries will be required to wipe out the fair type altogether. If you ask how this matter has been determined with such accuracy, I will reply that it has been by including statistical ob servations on the point in the censuses of nations, “Observations made in this way, cov ering millions of persons of both sexes, have resulted in the discovery that dark people bring more children into the world' than fair people. Furthermore, they have greater muscular vigor, and they live longer. Thus in every point which has to do with the perpetuation of a species they are superior. The rule in nature seems to be that pigment, which gives color to the hair and eyes, is an indication of force.” Doesthepassingof theblonde mean the disappearance of the most beautiful hu man type? It is a question which, of course. Is open to dispute, and dark women espe cially will be disposed to pooh pooh the idea. Nobody can decide. Yet, it is undeniably a fact that artists, who are supposed to be expert judges of beauty, usually select the blorxlc type when they wish to represent the highest feminine ideal. If proof of this be wanted, look at the finest works of art in which an gels are depicted. Nearly always ihey have blue eyes and golden hair. Go away back to Fra Angelico, whe was the first great painter of angels. His angels are blondes. /That man, who, though only a humble priest, refused a bishopric, had a genius for the repre sentation of things divine, and many a church did he adorn with paintings ol Scriptural scenes, in which the winged messengers figured prominently. Angels represent the highest concep tions of physical beauty—the apotheosis of bodily perfection, as viewed by the artists who have painted them. Fra An gelico was first to depict angels of the gender sex. and in his day was severely criticised for it by churchmen, who claimed that the idea was a wholly im proper innovation. Angels up to that time had always been of the male sex. Nevertheless the notion of picturing fem inine loveliness in this guise was taken up by later painters, and modern angels in art are nearly all women, the ex ceptions being archangels, who. when they appear on canvas are necessarily men —as, for example, Gabriel and Raphael. Among all the celestial hosts only the seven archangels are known as individuals and by name. In one respect the young women of to-day are approaching the angelic standard —namely, in stature. Angels, as shown in pictures, are always tall. That women generally are admirers erf the blonde type, as opposed to the brunette, is sufficiently proved by the frequency with which they bleach their hair, by the aid of peroxide of hydro gen, and other chemical perparations. The fact that most people have fair hair in early youth would seem, by the way. to indicate that our ancestors were a fair-haired race —a conclusion which, indeed, is borne out by history, though the so-called Anglo-Saxons are sprung from such a mixture of racial stocks that it is not easy to assign to them a definite origin. One of the most melancholy things in the life o? the average woman is the gradual darkening of the hair, which is liable to signify a'ioss of its beauty. The phenomenon is due to an increasing supply of pigment, and there is no known means whereby the process can be arrested. Inasmuch as the coloring matter is the same as that which gives its tint to the complex ion, woman may consider herself for tunate that the skin does not manifest the same tendency; else she rfiight start in life as white and find herself a mulatto in her old age. What It Contained. Analysis of the water of an artesian well recently bored at Holly Springs, Miss., showed that it contained a large proportion of ammonia. Uncle Zeb. a colored resident of that town, spoke for the matter in this wise to a drummer whose grip he was “tot ing” from the station: “We so got er artillery well here, an’ las’ w’eek dey done scandalized de watah, an’ foun’ it plum full er hy drophobia.”—N. Y. Times. TORTURING PAIN. Mm'J This Man’s Sufferings Would Hay* Killed Many a Person. But Doan’s Cured Him. ▲. C. Sprague, stock dealer, of Normal, 111,, '' two whole years | nothing Lu % any man ever \ a.c. spRAGte. pain in my back was so bad that I could not sleep at night. I could not ride a horse, and sometimes was unable even to ride in a car. My condition was critical when I sent for Doan’s Kidney Pills. I used three boxes and they cured me. Now I can go anywhere anti do as much as anybody'. I sleep well and feel no dis comfort at all.” A TRIAL FREE—Address Foster- Milburn Cos., Buffalo, N. Y. For sale by all dealers. Price, 50 cents. A Bit of Diplomacy. The modern man crossed his legs and looked intently at his wife, who was a modern woman, says the Now York Press. “Here we are on the threshold of married life,” he said at last, “and. In the language of the poet, we are up against it the very first thing.” She shrugged her shoulders and faillt. suggested that it really wasn’t her “I would be glad to help you, Fred. In any way I can,” she continued, “but you must remember that I have bad a college education. If there is anything at your office that you don’t exactly understand all you have to do is to say so and I will come down and help you straighten it out.” “But what I don't understand is here,” he protested. She shrugged her shoulders again. “I know no more about it than you do.” she said. I can kep books for you or run a typewriter or —" • “Just the thing,” he broke in joy fully. “That little typewriter down at my office is the most womanly lit tle creature I ever saw, and I’ll beX she knows ail about managing a house. We’ll just keep her up hero to make things look nice and home like and you can take her place at the office.” But there was something in his tone that made her decide to look af ter the home-making business herself, even if she had to begin going to cooking school to do it. Between Acts, “Her complexion's made.” confided the matinee girl to her dearest friend as the Envied Girl took her place in a box. “Yes, old maid,” replied the dearest friend, spitefully. “Where can I get dinner?” asked the weary passenger on the express train. “Read the time table,” growled the brakeman. “Don’t you see it says short stops for lunch?” “Yes, but I can’t cat shortstops.”—Chicago News. AS EASY. Needs Only a Little Thinking. The food of childhood often decides whether one is to grow up well nour ished and healthy or weak and sickly from improper food. It’s jus£ as easy to he as the oth er, provided we get a proper start. A wise physician like the Denver Doctor who knew about food, can ac complish wonders, provided the patient is willing to help and will eat only proper food. Speaking of this case the Mother said her little four-year-old boy was suffer ing from a peculiar derangement of the stomach, liver and kidneys and his feet became so swollen he couldn’t take a step. “We called a Doctor who said at once we must be very careful as to his diet, as improper food was tho only cause of his sickness. Sugar espe cially, he forbid. “So the Dr. made up a diet and th* principal food he prescribed was Grape- Nuts and the boy, who was very fond of sweet things, took the Grape-Nut* readily without adding any sugar. (Dr. explained that the sweet in Grape-Nuts is not at all like cane or beet sugar but is the natural sweet of the grains.) “We saw big improvement inside & few days and now Grape-Nuts are al most his only food and he is once mors a healthy, happy, rosy-cheeked young ster with every prospect to grow up Into a strong healthy man.” Nam* given by Postum Cos., Battle Creek, Mich. The sweet in Grape-Nuts is the Na ture-sweet known as Post Sugar, not digested in t>e liver like ordinary sugar, but predigested. Feed the young sters a bandful of Grape-Nuts when Nature demands sweet and prompt* them to call for sugar. There’s a reason. Get the little book "Th* Rood t# Weilvilie” in each pkg.