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THE STARKVILLE NEWS.
VOLUME IV. — An Awkward Mistake —————p— m I ■ ■■■■!■ ■—■——m By HELEN F. GRAVES m - -P NEVER thought to die and I leave her penniless. I never thought—” And hero a sharp, sudden spasm seemed to take away the voice of the dying man; he gasped for breath, and his wandering fingers seemed to grope blindly in the dark, while little Juliet burst out into sobs as she clung wild ly round his neck. Mr. and Mrs. Montague Aylesford looked blankly at one another. Mr. Aylesford was much agitated. Mrs. Aylesford turned pale with amazement. “It can’t be —” hesitated Mrs. Ayles ford, in a low tone, with an inquiring elevation cf her eyebrows. “It must be.” nodded her husband. And Juliet Dallas, throwing herself wildly upon the corpse that a moment ago had been her living, loving father, ciout: * Dead! Dead! Oh. bring him back to life, someone! Dou’t let them take him away from me!” i And then the poor child fainted. - “My dear.” said Mr. Montague Ayles ford to his wife, “I’m afraid this is a bad business.” “My dear.” said Mrs. Montague Ayles ford to her husband, “we have been tinder a mistake all along!” . . And tney rang the bell for the hotel chambermaid to come and “look after” the forlorn young orphan. For Mrs. Aylesford. who had “dearest,” and “darling” and “sw*eetest oned” poor Juliet for the last three days, under the impression that she was an em bryo heiress, had suddenly grown cold since Digby Dallas’ dying speech had produced so different a conviction in her mind. * Do you think that w*e are under any special obligation to lake charge of her?” Mrs. Aylesford askea, on the day of the funeral, when poor Juliet sat in her deep mourning weeds alone in the room in w r hich her father had died. ’ Mr. Aylesford looked dubious. He had just been examining the papers of the deceased. “1 am convinced, my dear,” he said, “that we have been kept systematically In the dark, as to my Cousin Digby’s affairs. He allowed us—wickedly al lowed us, as I may say—to suppose him a man of wealth, and here he has actually had the —the presumption, my dear, to go and die and leave a grent girl on our hands! A girl to be fed, and clothed, and educated, and—and all sorts of things, Mrs. Aylesford!” But in this account of the existing state of affairs Mr. Montague Ayles ford entirely omitted to mention that he had hurried from a distant part of the country to his relative’s dying bedside without any summons. There he had volunteered of his own accord to take the pretty young orphan in charge, and there he had fawned on. Capt. Dallas after the most obsequious manner, firmly believing in his wealth. And now. after all, to be disappointed —it was a bitter cup to quaff! j .. “It’s the most unheard of thing that ever transpired within my knowledge,” said Mrs. Aylesford. “But, of course, we can’t be held responsible, and it’s my duty to tell the girl so at once, and prevent any misunderstanding on the subject.” She rang the bell and ordered the servant to tell Miss Dallas to attend her in the blue parlor. Juliet came —a fair, shrinking young creature, with soft, blue eyes, a rose fair complexion, and features cast aft er the pure Grecian type, straight, clean cut and aristocratic. Her dress of deep black was plain, yet became her like the robes of a princess, and a jet cross suspended round her alabas ter throat upon a blade velvet ribbon was all the ornament she wore. “Juliet,” said Mrs. Montague Ayles ford, sourly. The orphan glanced timidly up. She could not comprehend why Mrs. Aylos ford’s tone had so radically changed toward*her during the last 24 feoursf” ■ Mr*. irylesfcrd.” V ‘‘Mr. Aylesford and i have talk ing your, sad case over. It t* nothing extraordinary—in fact, it occurs every day, and yon may as well toHo-v the example of others In a like predicament and decide at once what you wilij da* Juliet looked a little surprised.: j bsu: “I thought,” she hesitated,, “that i -was to live with you.” Mrs. Aylesford compressed her ips. ~Of course, you cannot expect- to eat the bread of idleness,” she declared. “Mr. Aylesford and X are merely dis tant relations. That we have ; kindly interested ourselves in you so Car is more than could have been expected. Dbn’t stare so,” she added, with some irritation in her voice and manner. “Is there anything so very extraordinary in what I have been saying?” “I think there is,” Juliet said, in a sort of choked voice. *T think —■” She checked herself, but her eyes were brimming over wit htears, and her lip .quivering. ‘T do wish you wouldn’t make such a baby of yourself! ” said Mrs, Aylesford, sharply. “Look the matter straight In the face at once; you will have to do so, sooner or later. Mr. Aylesford finds by an examination of all the papers your deceased father has., left” —Juliet shud dered involuntarily* ns if some cruel hand had been laid on an exposed nerve —“that all the property you will inherit amounts to only a hundred or two of dollars, and you will at once be com pelled to do something: to earn an hon est living. Mr. Aylesfiordand I certainly shall not support you. Gapt. Dallas must have been improvident and ex travagant to the last degree not to—” BiH JtiiieV'S* pallid face and upraised hand-checked"Mts. Aylesford’s further speech. “Jiush! ” the orphan cried, passionate ly. “You shall not cast the shadow o£ one reproachful word upon ray dear, dead father's memqry! He ,was too noble hnd too good for one like you to comprehend his nature! He —” But here she stopped, the breath flut tering on her lips like a wounded bird. “Upon ray word! ” Mrs. Aylesford ejac ulated, bristling up and turning scarlet. “I might have expected this imperti nence. but I will not endure it from a penniless beggar like you! Go to your room at once. Juliet Dallas, and remain thereuntil I and Mr. Aylesford have had time to talk over this very extraordinary and-unlooked-for state of things.” And, Juliet obeyed, weeping in solitude the bitterest tears that she, a tender fa ther’s spoiled darling, had ever known. Not until the next day did Mr. and Mrs. Montague Aylesford deign to an nounce their final decision in the mat ter. ~ “There Is a lady here,” said the for mer, sonorously clearing his throat, “who wants a well-bred and ladylike young person, not altogether without education, to take charge of her four, little girls. The wages—ahem! I mean the salary—will be, of course, small at first, but the position is exception ally genteel, and, I think, my dear,” with a sidelong glance at his wife, “that our young relative could Scarcely .do better than to accept it.” , But Juliet shook her head with quiet dignity. “I do not think.” she said, “that papa would have been willing for me to as sume a menial place.” Mrs. Aylesford rolled up her small, blpe eyes in holy, horror, and elevated her hands to correspond. ‘‘A menial place! Your papa! Well. I should like to know what some people expect! But you won’t live upon Mi*. Aylesford and myself—that I can prom ise you!” ' ’ “J would die sooner than eat a morsel of your bread!” Juliet answered, de fiantly. “It’s a great deal easier to talk about, dying than it is to die!” said Mr. Ayles ford. acidly. “And what, may I ask. do you propose to do?” ‘T don’t know,” Juliet said, growing pale as the utter loneliness of her posi tion flashed itself upon her. “Papa tele graphed last week to my Uncle Rich \ ard—” ; 1 ■ “Exactly so!” interrupted Mr. Ayles ford, with a countenance of intense re lief. ,; Your Uncle Richard, \6 be sure— the very person to take charge of you. Only I supposed he was off somewhere on the other side of the globe.” Juliet supposed so; too, especially as no answer had his yet arrived to the sum mons ,pf the dying man; but she said nothing, only stood with drooping head; clasped hands and lily-pale face. At this very moment the door swung swiftly open, amf a .short, stout man, vjitli a shining bald head and a bronzed face; strode ihto the room. 5 1 “Hat :my niece!” he said, abruptly. VAnf my Cousin Aylesford and her hus band! So poor Diigby has gone, ehf But I couldn't get* here an hdur sooner. I’ve traveled day and night—day and night’ ,j sj. ;-•■£' y hjsM As he spoke the words ae took JuU4t unceremoniously in his arm&aad kissed: her, r;-r f vj /. I :-rr. •i } *'l know by experience, my dear/’ ha said, in a tdhe gentier than his brown face L and brdsque would load, •one to anticipate, "what H, i$ to be left, an hi ri/han; but in your cdsd you have STARKVILLE, MISS., FRIDAY, APRIL 21, 1905. the advantage of wealth to smooth the road of life. I was poor.” “Eh?” cried Mr. Aylesford. “Mr. Richard Dallas is quite mis taken,” said Mrs. Aylesford. tossing her head and smoothing down an invisible crease in her black silk dress. “Cousia Digby died without leaving—” “He died leaving a fortune of a hun dred thousand dollars to this girl,” in terrupted Mr. Dallas, “of which I hap pen to be the trustee ** Mr. and Mrs. Montague Aylesford ex changed astounded glances. Could it be that they had so woefully misinter preted the last unfinished sentence of the dying man? War Juliet an heiress, after all? And had they, the wealth worshipers, defeated iheir own ends? But it was in vain to retrace their footsteps now. Mr. Dallas, evidently put in possession of the facts of the case by his niece, treated the worthy couple with 111-concealed contempt when next they met. and took Juliet away with him within a -week to complete her educa tion in Europe. And the Montague Aylesfords had the satisfaction of knowing that they had made an exasperating mistake. —N. Y. Weekly. jerseyHjeads in cigars. That State with No Reputation for Manufacture Has Florida Badly Beaten. New York. —For many years the competition between imported Havana cigars and hand-made Key West c igars has been going on actively, with a general belief, probably, that Key West was an important sourc** of supply of cigars. Uncle Sam, who is a lynx-eyed col lector of revenue from c ; gar factories, takes account in a year of 7.000.000.000 cigars, that being the number of do mestic cigars smoked in a year. The number imported from Cuba, the Phil ippines and other places of supply U relatively insignificant. Of this total the r- * v r of Key West cigars—including with Key West the whole state of Florida, of which Key West, through its proximity to Havana and its large number of Cuban cigarmakers. is the chief producing point—is 250,000,000. In othei words, one-twenty-eighth of the total number of cigars made in the United States and smoked; here are Key West or Florida made and that number only. The great cigar-making state of Ilia country, notwithstanding the ignoble repute in many quarters of Pittsburg stogies, is Pennsylvania, which manu factures in a year nearly 2,000,000,000 cigars. New York makes 1,000,000,000 in a year, and Ohio, never very far behind in profitable and productive enterprises, 750,000,000. The other states of the country are practically trailers to these, with the exception of Virginia, which manufac tures in a year 500.000,000 cigars, and is, in fact, the only one of the big tobacco-producing states which makes cigars in large numbers. About one half of the product of Virginia fac tories Is in the form of cheroots. Kentucky, which furnishes an enor mous amount of tobacco, makes a few cigars, and New Jersey, which has no particular reputation in the cigar line, makes in a year nearly twice as man/ as Florida. j~ri & i 5 5. v 2if - jr;' :e ' % i* • . I ■ Indian Languages. The first essential step in the work of the bureau of ethnology was a classification of the American Indian tribes into groups allied by language. It was found that within the area with wh(ch the nation has to deal thero are spoken some 500 different lan guages as distinct from each other as French is from English, and that these languages can be grouped in some 50 or 60 families. It was found, further, : that' in connection with the differences in languages, ara many other distinctions requiring at tention. Tribes allied In language are often allied also in- capacity, habits, tastes, social organization, religion. and arts and industries. 1 : . / - ' • ' ' ' Trousers* Swindle, During three > ears past a Paris man has been selling as relics portions of a pair of trousers supposed to have been worn by Victor Hugo. He said he paid six dollars for them, and told the story to a concierge,,. Ip, consequence many people called |o buy pieces of the trousers; ’ The man first sold ’ frag ment of/cloU) and finally whole legs at a time*/ One o| the customers who bought 1 a leg happened to meet another !wbb had aldd boiight a leg. Comparison showed they Were not mates.; The po lice were jpformcfl and they arrested the ehterprising t ellc dealer , ’ - ,rl ..f.iuii-iit A .1:1 ,* i , 1- WAS A PROUD DISTINCTION. Being a Private in the Revolutionary Array Was Something to Be Proud Of. At the reception which followed a convention of Sons and Daughters of the Revolution, one handsome young woman was especially observed, re lates Youth’s Companion. She was not only beautiful, but she bore herself with great dignity. Surely she must come of unusually distinguished lin eage, reflected the young man from the west. Having obtained an introduction to her, he could not resist the tempta tion to ask some questions. “Your revolutionary family record.’’ he said, tentatively, “is a remarkable one, I suppose?’’ “Yes, it is,” she replied, promptly. “My great-greai-great-grandfather, a Massachusetts farmer, sent his six sons to Bunker Hill, all private soldiers! While the young man was looking at her, somewhat surprised, she glanced cautiously round, as if fearful of being overheard. “It is not generally known,” she said, hurriedly, “that there is a stain upon our record. One of the six be came a corporal! “Still,” she resumed, “the disgrace of it is lost in the record of ihe other five, who remained privates even until the surrender of York town. I confess that once I did not appreciate this thing at its true value. But attendance at many gatherings of the Sons and Daughters, and hearing the speecnes and listening to the records and other statements has convinced me that be yond doubt those five ancestors of ours were the only privates in the rev olutionary armies!” CLAY SPLICED THE” TWINE. When a Store Clerk the Famous Statesman Had a Lesson in Economy. It has been said that Henry Clay achieved success so easily that he quite misunderstood others and over estimated himself. But he was eager to learn the best way to do whatever he had to do. In “The True Henry Clay.” the author gives an instance of this: “At 14 Henry became clerk In a store in Richmond, whither the fam ily had removed. Stories are told of his willingness to do his duty, al though the work was distasteful to him. “Once he was reproved by the storekeeper for wasting too much twine. Thereafter he saved every scrap he could get and tied the pieces together. Again it was explained that using this sort of twine might be of fensive to the customers, as it made the packages look untidy by reason of so many knots. So he consulted with a sailor at Richmond, who showed him how to splice string with a smooth joint. “From that time he spent his leisure hours making short pieces of twine of the same size into a continuous cord. When his employer discovered this, he was so much pleased that he had all twine saved, and turned the task of splicing it over to young Henry, with the result that the young man’s enthusiasm rapidly abated.” In Japanese Hospitals. The greatest difference between the work of Japanese hospitals and those of our country is the former’s greater sim plicity of equipment and economy of management. We are apt to surround ourselves with so many “labor-saving devices” that the mere care of them be comes a burden, and in our hospitals there Is generally a liberal use of sup plies. At Hiroshima the really impor tant things (including an X-ray and photographing outfit and a chemical and bacteriological laboratory) are all to be found, but not things which are consid ered unessential. Bandages from clean wounds are washed, rolled by hand, and used repeatedly, while laundry is kept at a minimum by rules specifying the length of time bedding and kimonos are to be used.—Century. Arrived at Last. Oyama weighs nearly 200 pounds. At last big men may have a hero to pit against the Alexanders, Wellingtons, Napoleans and Grants, to whom the lit tle fellows always refer when the ques tion of fighting comes up.—Chicago Rec ord-Hefald. ' i Few Are Punished. Signor Garofalo, the Italian crim inologist. reckons that throughout Eu rope 10,000 persons are annually con demned for murdor, and that only one criminal-out of three is brought to jus tice.' .i;-;j i *!:iu •n . ~ i.. . NUMBER 6. TAILOR REVISED HIS LIST. Became Convinced That One of the Entries Was a Trifle Dan gerous. There is a little Irish tailor in Har lem who prides himself on a reputa tion for courage. The reputation, how ever, says the New York Times, was won and is maintained much like that of the tailor in the old story w ho “killed nine at a blow.” Fortunately, this knight of the scissors has discretion. One morning Mrs. Murphy, a custom er, entered the shop, and finding the tailor busy with pencil and paper, asked him what he was doing. “I’m making a list av the min on this block who I can lick,” said he, pomp ously. “Have ye Murphy’s name down?” asked she. “Murphy heads the list,” was his re ply. Mrs. Murphy hurried home wutb the news, and Mr. Murphy came down to the shop with fire in his eye. “Me w oman tells me,” he roared, “thot you’re after making a list of the men you can lick, and thot you’ve got me down at the head of it. Is it true?” “Sure, and it’s true. What of it?” ! “Why, you good-for-nothing little grasshopper, I could wipe you out with my little finger. I could wipe the floor with you with both me hands tied.” “Are you sure about that?” asked the tailor, anxiously. “Sure? Sure I’m sure about it." “Well,” sighed the tailor, regretfully, “then I’ll have to scratch you off the list” QUEER BRANCH OF STUDY. Fencing for Girls Seemed to Bea Useless Craft for Them to Learn. “it does beat all. Michael, what they'rs teaching girls now in these city schools,” said old Mrs. Mill!kip. laying down ihe advertising section of a big daily w hich she had been reading close ly for the last half-hour, relates Youth’s Companion. “Of course w’hen Jamie w'ent to the farm school and they gave him digging and chores and such, it seemed right enough, for he was a boy. and was fitting himself for making a living off the land. “But w'hat I can t make out is why ever city folks, and girls at that, and ones that don’t need to be scratching to make ends meet, should be paying |25 extra, as the paper here says, just to learn fencing.” “Does seem kind o’ queer, ma, come to think of it.” returned the old man, at the other end of the table, “but Seems like of late I’ve been hearing a lot of talk 'bout nature studies and ‘back to nature’ and simple fifes and such, and maybe that’s the city folks' way o’ get ting at those things, though it 'pears to me as if 'tw'ould come handier for 'em to take a jaunt out in the country where real fences w'as, if they're so mighty anxious to be learned bout the building of FOR CARRIAGE GRACES. Young Ladies Practice Entering and Alighting from Vehicle at Fash ionable School. Some of our modern modes of instruc tion are as exacting as those of an older time. Grandmother used to wear a wooden busk to make her straight, and to take lessons in eating wuth her knife and- drinking delicately from her saucer. But the new *‘miss”‘ has some equally exacting tasks. - The New York Press says that there is one fashionable school for girls where deportment is a most important branch. It is not studied; it is practiced, /in the back yard is an old brougham. “What on earth Is that carriage there for?” asked a visitor. '“Os; i “That,” said the principal “Is for teaching our girls how to enter and alight from a carriage. The students step in and out of It three hours a week. They learn to make their entranpc and their exit with grace.” ■ i . Identity Assured. . ,j Tourist—Yes, while attending a bull fight In Seville I met a wealthy Chi cago butcher. j- • . too Friend —How did you know he was a butcher? “Because he was indre interested in whati the bull; brought whenoi killed than he was in the fight.” Chicago Daily News. ; ! - 1_ Sensible. , . , . . He —It’s impossible to please every body in this tr6rld, : isn’t i€? She—l don’t know* Fvp. never tried it.—Detroit Free. Press.