Cheraw chronicle. (Cheraw, S.C.) 1896-2005, September 08, 1921, Image 6
[no"
By G
r.: ft
SHEILA.
Synopsis.?Dyck Calhoun, gifted
young Irish Gentleman of the time I
of the French and American revo- (
lutions, meets Sheila Llyn, seven- ^
teen-year-old girl visiting in the
neghborliood. They are mutually I
attracted. Sheila never knew her j
dissipated father. Erris Boyne, her (
mother having divorced him. In
.Dublin Leonard Mallow and Dyck
tight with swords and Dyck is vie- i
( tor. Erris Boyne. secretly in French
employ, gets Dyck drunk and tries
to persuade him to Join in revolt
against England. They quarrel.
While Dyck is overcome with \
drugged wine, Boyne's second wife
enters the room and stabs her
faithless husband to the heart.
Dyck is arrested on a charge of
murder. He does not know If he j
kilied Boyne or not. Sheila begs
her mother to go to Dublin with
her to help Dyck. Mrs. Llyn opposes
the idea. A letter from Mrs.
Llyn's wealthy brother in America
decides them to go and live with
him. Dyck refuses to enter any
plea except "No Defense." He
might have escaped by revealing ;
Boyne's treachery but refuses on
Sbella's account. He is sent to
prison for eight years. Sheila
writes Dyck, assuring him of her 1
belief In his innocence. Released
after serving four years, Dyck finds ^
himself destitute, his father dead.
In London Dyck receives a letter I
from Sheila inviting him to come
to America and sending money for I
the voyage. He feels he cannot In
honor go to her. Dyck Joins the
British navy as an enlisted man. '
Bad conditions In the Meet result in
mutiny. Dyck. joining the mutl- I
neers, is chosen by them to command
the ship, the Ariadne. Dissatisfied
with the conduct of the '
other ships' crews. Dyck breaks i
with them and sails the Ariadne to
the West 'Indies. He arrives in time
* to turn the tide of victory In a 1
battle between the French and i
English Heets. Calhoun is arrested I
for his part in the mutiny but
thanked by the admiral for his ,
work in the battle. The British
government gives Dyck the free- 1
dom of the island of Jamaica, of
which his old enemy. Lord Mallow, ^
is governor. With a companion.
Dyck secures treasure worth ?40,000 1
from a - sunken Spanish ship, and I :
becomes a wealthy and respected i ]
planter. j
i i
(CHAPTER XIII?Continued.) ;
]
"The governor has been warned, hut !
he gives no heed, or treats It nil lightly,
pointing out how few the Maroons
are. He forgets that a few determined
men can demoralize a whole state, can !
fight and murder and fly to dark cowrts
in the tropical woods, where 1
they cannot lie tracked down and de- J
stroved; and, if they have made supporters
of the slaves, what conse- '
quences may not follow!
"One thing is clear to me?only by (
hounds can these people be defeated.
So sure am I upon this point, that I
have sent to Cuba for sixty hounds, ,
with which, when the trouble comes? *
and it Is not far off?we shall be able ,
to hunt the Maroons with the only ,
weapon they really fear?the dog's I
-~ -? i^ w- ?? ; 1
snurp loom. ii inuj oe uie guvenioi
may intervene on the arrival of the j
dogs; hut I have made friends with
the provost marshal general and some
members of the Jamaica legislature;
also I have a friend in the deputy of
the provost marshal general in my parish
of Clarendon here, and I will make
m good bet that the dogs will he let
come Into the island, governor or 110 j
governor. .
"When one sets one's self against (
the crown one must be sure of one's |
ground, and fear no foe, however great j
:and high. Well, I have won so far, ,
and I shall win in the end. Mallow j
should have some respect for one that ]
beat him at Phoenix park with the ,
sword: that beat him when he would ,
have me imprisoned here; that beat ,
him in the matter of the ship for Haiti. }
and that will heat him on every hazard ,
lie sets, unless he stoops to underhand |
acts, which he will not do. That much v
must he said for him. (
"Hut what is this I see? Michael
Clones?in his white jean waistcoat, j
white neckcloth and trousers and blue ,
coat?is coming up the drive in hot j
haste, hearing a letter. He rides too
hard. He has never carried himself j
easily in this climate. He tredts it as ,
if it was Ireland. He will not protect j
himself and. if penalty followed folly. ! .
snouju now ne in ins grave. i line i j
you, Michael. You are a boon, but?" |
CHAPTER XIV.
? I
Strangers Arrive. j
Pyck Calhoun's letter was never
ended. It was only a relic of the years
spent in Jamaica, only a sign of bis |
well-being, though it gave no real picture
of himself, lie was in appearance
thin, dark-favored, buoyant in
manner and stern in face, with splen- i
did eyes. Had be dwelt on Olympus, \
he might have been summoned to judge i
and chastise the sons of men. I
When Michael Clones came to the
doorway, Iiyck laid down bis (piill pen
and eyed the llusbed servant in dis- j i
approval. ;
"What is it, Michael? Wherefore : I
this siarkness? Is some one come from i
Jiea veil V 1
"Not precisely from heaven, y'r honor.
but?"
"lint?yes, Michael! Have done
wirh hut-lug and come to the real matter."
"Well, sir, they've come from Virginia."
Pyck Calhoun slowly got to his feet,
his face paling, his body stiffening.
From Virginia ! Who should be coming
from Virginia, save she to whom he i
had just been writing?
"Who has come from Virginia?"
He knew, but lie wanted it said.
"Sure, you knew a vessel came from
America last night. Well, in her was
one that was called the queen of Ireland
long ago."
"Queen of Ireland?well, what then?"
DEF1
ILBERTP
Dyck's voice was tuneJess, liis manner
ritri?l. his eyes burning.
'Well, she?Miss Sheila Llyn and her
mother are going to the Salem plantation.
down by the Essex Valley mountain.
It is her plantation now. It belonged
to her uncle. Bryan Llyn. He
got it in payment of a debt, lie's dead
now and all his lands and wealth have
come to her. Her mother, Mrs. Llyn.
Is with her and they start tomorrow
or the next day for Salem."
Dyck Calhoun made an impatient
gesture at this last remark.
"Yes. yes, Michael. Where are they
now?"
"They're at Charlotte Bedford's lodg
ings in Spanish town. The governor
waited on them this morning. The
governor sent hem flowers ami?"
"Flowers?Lord Mallow sent them
flowers! Hell's fiend, man, suppose
lie did?" 1
"There are better flowers here than
itny in Spanish Town."
"Well, lake them, Michael; but if
vou do, come here again no more while
you live, for I'll have none of you.
Do you think I'm entering the lists
against the king's governor?"
"You've done it before, sir, and
there's no harm In doing It again. One
good turn deserves another. I've also
to tell you, sir, that Lord Mallow has
asked them to stay at King's house."
"Lord Mallow has asked Americans
to stay at King's house?"
"But they're Irish, and he knew them
In Ireland, y'r honor."
"From whom do you get your Information?"
asked Dyek Calhoun with an
ilr of suspicion.
"From Darius Bolnnd, y'r honor."
tnswered Michael, with a smile. "Who
Is Darius Boland, you're askln' In y'r
mind? Well, he's the new manager
come from the Llyn plantations In
Virginia; and right good stuff he Is,
with a tongue that's as dry as cut
wheat In August. I saw him this
mornln' on the quay at Kingston. He
was orderin' the porters about with an
air?oh, bedad. an air! I saw the
name upon the parcels?Miss Sheila
Llyn of Molra, Virginia, and so I spoke
'o hint. 'Well,* said he, 'who might
you be? For there's queer folks in
Jamaica, I'm told.' So I said I was
Michael Clones, and at that he doffed
Ills hat and held out a hand. 'Well, 1
Here's luck,' said he. 'Luck at the
rery start! I've heard of you from
ny mistress. You're servant to Mr.
Dyck Calhoun?ain't that it?' And 1
nodded and he smiled again?a smile
hat'd cost money anywhere else than
n Jamaicu. Queer way of talk he has.
thut man, as queer as?"
"I understand, Michael. But what
?lse? How did you cotne to talk about
:he affairs of Mrs. and Miss Llyn? He
Jidn't JuSt spit it out, did he?"
"Sure; not so quick and free as i
>pittin\ y'r honor, but when he'd sorted
ne out. as it were, he said Miss Llyn :
liad come out here to take charge of
>aletn, her own estate In Virginia be- 1
n' in such good runnln' order and her 1
mind bein' active. Word had come '
)f the trouble with the manager here,
ind one of the provost marshal's deputes
had written accounts of the flog- '
;ing and ill-treatment of slaves, and
mat s way sne come?to put tilings
right at Salem!"
"To put tilings wrong in Jamaica.
Michael, that's why she's come. To '
onse the ball of confusion and free I
he tlood of tragedy?that's why she's
trome! Man, Michael, you know her
li.story?who she was and what happened
to her father. Well, do you think
here's no tragedy in her coining here?
[ killed her father, they say, Michael. 1
[ was punished for it. I came here
o be free of all those things?lifted
nit and away from them all. 1 longed
o forget the past, which is only shame
uid torture; and here it is all spread
nit at my door again like a mat, which
[ must see as 1 go in and out. There
vas no 'talk on Bol\ind's part of their
mining here, was thete, Michael?"
"None at all, sir, hut there was that
ti the man's eye and that in his tone,
vhlch made me sure he thought Miss
l.lyn and you would meet."
"That would he strange, wouldn't it.
t>. this immense continent!" L)yek renarked
cynically. "She knew I was
lore before she came. I wonder her
not lie: let her come here. Her mother
tnew part of the truth. She hid it all
Tom the girl?and now they are here!
"Michael, order my horse and I will
:o to Spanish Town. This matter must
>e brought to a head. The truth must
.e told. Order my horse!"
"It is the very heat of the day, sir."
"Then at five o'clock, after dinner,
have my horse here."
"Am I to ride with you, sir?"
Dyck nodded.
"Yes, Michael. There's only one
thing to do?face all the facts with all
the evidence, and you are fact and
iwideiiee, too. You know more of the
truth than any one else."
1
Several hours later, when the sun
was abating its force a little, after
traveling the burning roads through
vains ami cocoa, grnnudillus and all
kinds of herbs and roots and vagrant
trees, D.vck Calhoun and Michael
Clones came into Spanish Town.
Dyck looked around upon the town
with new eyes. He saw it like one for
the first time visiting it. He saw the
people passing through tlte wide
verandas of tlte houses, like a vast
colonnade, down the street, to he happily
sheltered from the fierce sun. As
they passed King's house they saw
troops of the viceroy's guests issuing j
from the palace?officers of the king's |
navy and army, officers and men of the
Jamaica militia, pale-faced, big-eyed
men of the Creole class, mulattoes,
quadroons and octoroons, Sam hoes :
with their wives in loose skirts, white
stockings and pinnacle hats. Snatches
of song were heard and voices of men
who had had a full meal and had
"taken observations"?as looking
ENSi
ARRER
through the bottom of a glass of
liquor was called by people with naval
spirit?were mixed in cureless carousal..
All this jarred on Dyck Calhoun and
cave revolt to his senses. Vet he was
only half-conscious of the great sensuousness
of the scene as he passed
through It. All was brought to focus
at last, however, by their arrival at
Charlotte Bedford's lodgings, which,
like most houses In the town, had a
flttu.l iclth no-pen
blinds and a telescope, and bad a
green-painted wooden railing round It.
At tbe very entrance, Inside the gate,
in the garden, they saw Sheila Llyn,
her niotlK'r and Darius Bolnnd, who
seemed to be enduring from the mother
some sharp reprimand, to the
amusement of the daughter.
As the gate closed behind Dyck and
Michael, the three from Virginia
turned round and faced them. As
Dyck came forward, Sheila flushed
and trembled. Site was no longer a
young girl, but iter slim straightness
and the soft lines of her figure gave
her a dignity and charm which made
her young womanhood distinguished?
for she was now twenty-five and had
a carriage of which a princess might
have been proud. Yet it was plain
that the entrance of Dyck at this moment
was disturbing. It was not what
site had foreseen.
She showed no hesitation, however,
but came forward to meet her visitor,
while Michael fell back, as also did
Darius Boland. Both these seemed to
reulize that the less they saw and
heard, the better; and they presently
got together in another part of the
garden, as Dyck Calhoun came near
enough almost to touch Sheila.
Surely, lie thought, she was supreme
in appearance and design. She was
touched by a rose on each cheek and
made womanly by firm and yet generous
breasts, tenderly imprisoned by
the white chiffon of her blouse in
which was one bright sprig of the buds
of a cherry tret?a touch of modest
luxuriance on a person sparsely ornamented.
It was Sheila herself, whom
time had enriched with far more than
years and experience. It was a personality
which would anywhere have
taken place and held It. It was undefeatable,
persistent and permanent;
It was the spirit of Ireland loose In
a world thut was as far apart from
Ireland as she was from her dead, dishonored
father.
And Dyck? At first she felt she
must fly to him?yes. In spite of the
fact that he had suffered prison for
manslaughter. But a nearer look at
him stopped the Impulse at Its birth.
Here was the Dyck Calhoun she had
known In days gone by, but not the
Dyck she hud looked to see; for this
man was like one who had come from
a hanging, who had seen his dearest
swinging at the end of a rope. Ills
face was set In coldness; his hair was
streaked with gray; his forehead had
it line In the middle; his manner was
rigid, almost frigid, Indeed. Only In
his eyes was there that which denied
nil that his face npd manner said?a
hungry, absorbing, hopeless look, the
look of one who searches for a friend
In the denying desert.
Somehow, when he bowed low to
her and looked her in the eyes as no
r\no In nil her life bad ever done, she
Iind nn almost agonized understanding
?
Dyck Looked Around Upon the Town
With New Eyes.
of what a main feels who lias heen j
imprisoned?that lie is never the same
again. lie was an ex-convict and yet
she did not feel repelled by him. She
did not believe he had killed Krris
Hoyne. As for the later crime of mutiny,
that did not concern her much.
She was Irish; hut, more than that,
she was in sympathy with the mutineers.
She understood why Dyck
Calhoun, enlisting as a common sailor,
should take up their cause and run
risk to advance it. That lie had advanced
It was known to all the .vorFQ;
that he had paid the price of his mutiny
by saving the king's navy with j
a stolen ship; and that he had won
wealth was but another proof of the
man's power.
"You would not come to America,
so I came here, and?" She paused, '
her voice trembling slightly.
"There is much to do at Salem," he
added calmly, and yet with his heart
beating as it had not beaten since the
day he had first met her at riaymore. j
"You wouldn't take the money I |
sent to Dublin for you?the gift of a
believing friend, and you would not
come to America!" j
V Authc
I "The Seats oi
* "The Righ
"I shall have to tell you why one clay,"
lie answered slowly, "but I'll pay my
respects to your mother now."
So saying he went forward and
bowed low to Mrs. Llyn. Unlike her
daughter, Mrs. Llyn did, not offer her
hand. She was pale, distraught, troubled?and
vexed. She, however, murmured
his name and bowed.
"You did not expect to see me here
In Jamaica," he said boldly.
"Frankly, I did not, Mr. Calhoun."
she said.
"You resent my coming here to see
you? You think it bold, nt least."
She looked at him closely and firmly.
"You know why I cannot welcome
you."
"Yet I have paid the account demanded
by lhe law. And you had no
regard for him. You divorced him."
Sheila^ had drawn near, and Dyck
made a gesture in her direction. "She
does not know," he said, "and she
should not hear what we say now."
Mrs. Llyn nodded, and in a low tone
told SheiJa that she wished to be alone
with Dyck for a little while. In
Dyck's eyes, ns he watched Sheila go,
was a thing deeper than he had ever
known or shown before. In her white
gown and with her light step Sheila
seemed to float away?a picture graceful,
stately, buoyant, "keen and small."
As she was about to puss beyond a
clump of pimento bushes, she turned
her head toward the two, and there
was that In her eyes which few ever
see and seeing are afterward the
same. It was a look of Inquiry, of
revelation, of emotion which went to
Dyck's heart.
"No, she does not know the truth/'
Mrs. Llyn said. "But It has been hard
hiding It from her. One never knew
whether some chance remark, some
allusion In the papers would tell her
you had killed her father."
"Did I kill her father?" asked Dyck
helplessly. "Did I? I was found guilty
of It, but on my honor, Mrs. Llyn,
I do not know and I do not think I
did. I have no memory of It. We
quarreled. I drew my sword on him,
then he made an explanation and I
madly, stupidly drank drugged wine '
In reconciliation with him, and then
I remember nothing more?nothing at
all."
"What was the cause of your quarrel?"
Dyck looked at her long before answering.
"I hid that from my father
even, and hid It from the world?did
not even mention It In court at the
trial. If I had, perhaps I should not
have gone to Jail. If I had, perhaps
I should not be here In Jamaica. If
I had?" He paused, a flood of reflection
drowning his face, making his
eyes shine with black t-orrow.
"Well, If you had! . . . Why did
you not? Wasn't It your duty to save
yourself and save your friends, If you
could? Wasn't that your plain duty?"
"Yes, and that was why I did not
tell what the quarrel was. If 1 had,
even had I killed Erris Boyne, the
jury would not have convicted me. Of
thut I am sure. It was a loyalist
jury."
"Then why did you not?"
"Isn't It strange that now, after all
these years, when I have settled the
account with Judge and jury, with
state and law?that now I feel I must
tell you the truth? Madam, your exhushand,
Errls Boyue, was a traitor.
He was an officer In the French army
and he offered to make me an officer
also and pay me well in French government
money, If I would break allegiance
and serve the French cause?
Ah, don't start! lie knew I was on
my last legs financially. He knew I
had acquaintance with young rebel
leaders like Emmet, and he felt 1
could be won. So he made his proposal.
Because of your daughter 1 |
held my peace, for she could bear it
less than you. I did not tell the cause
of the quarrel. If I had, there would
have been for her the double shame.
That was why I held my peace?a i
fool, but so It was!" <
The woman seemed almost robbed
of understanding. His story overwhelmed
her. Vet what the man had
done was so quixotic, so Celtic, that
her senses were almost paralyzed.
"So mad?so mad and bud und wild
you were," she said. "Could you not
see it was your duty to tell ail, no
matter what the consequences? The
man was a villain. But what madness
you were guilty of, what cruel madness:
Only you could have done aj
thing like tlint. Krris Ifoyne deserved
death?I care not who killed him?you
or another. He deserved death, and
it was right he should die. Hut that
you should kill him. apart from all
else?why. indeed, oh. indeed, it is u
tragedy, for you loved my daughter,
and the killing made a gulf between
you! There could he no marriage in
such a case. Site could not bear it,
nor could you. Hut please know this,
Mr. Calhoun, that she never-believed
you killed Krris Hoyne. She lias said
so again and again. You are the only
man who has'ever touched her mind
or her senses, though many have
sought her. Wherever she goes men
try to win her, hut she has no thought
for any. ller mind goes back to you.
Just when you entered the garden I
learned?and only then?that you were
here. She hid it from me, but Darius
Holaml knew, and he had seen
your man, Michael Clones, and she
had then made him tell me. I was
incensed. I was her mother, and yet
she had hid the thing ftotn me. I
thought she came to this island for
the sake of Salem, and I found that :
she came not for Salem, but for you.
. . . Ah, Mr. Calhoun, she deserves
what you did to save her, hut you j
should not have done it."
"She deserves all that any better |
man might do. Why don't you marry !
her to some ghat man in your repub- '
lieV It would settle my trouble for j
-^=jjl
>r of
f the Mighty" ||
t of Way"
Copyright by Sir Gilbert Parker
me and free her mind from unxlety.
Mrs. Llyn, we are inVt children, you
and I. Xou know lire, and so uo i,
and "
She Interrupted him. "He sure of
this, Mr. Calhoun, she knows life even
better than either of us. She Is. and
has always been, a girl of sense and
judgment. When she was a child she
was my master, even in Ireland. Yet
she was obedient and faithful, and
kept her head in all vexed things.
She will have her way, and she will
have It as she wants it, and in no
other manner. She is one of the
world's great women. She is unique.
Child as she is, she still understands
all that men do, and does It."
"Why does she not marry? Is there
no man she can bear? She could have
the highest, that's sure."
He spoke with passion and insistence.
If she were married his trou
"Lord Mallow?He Courts Her, Does
He?"
ble would he over. The worst would
have come to him?like death. He
had the look of a lost angel, one who
fell with Belial In the first days of
sin.
"There is no man she can hear?
except here In Jamaica. It Is no use.
Your governor. Lord Mallow, whom
she knew In Ireland, who Is distant
kin of mine, he has already made
advances here to her, as he did In
Ireland?you did not know that. She
Is rich, and he would he glad of an
estate that brings in scores of thousands
of pounds yearly. He lias asked
us to stny at King's house, but we
have declined. We start for Salem In
a few hours. She wants her hand on
the wheel."
"Lord Mallow?he co.urts her, does
he?" His face grew grimmer. "Well,
she might do worse, though if she
were one of ray family I would rather
see her In her grave than wedded to
him. For he is selfish?aye, as few
men are! He would eat and keep his
apple, too. Ills theory is that life
is but a game, und it must be played
with steel He would soueeze the life
out of a flower,-and give the flower
to his dog to eat. He thinks first and
always of himself. He would?but
there, he would make a good husband
as husbands go for some women, but
not for this woman! It Is not because
he Is my enemy I say this. It is because
there Is only one woman like
your daughter, and that is herself;
and I would rather see her married
to a hodger that really loved her than
to Lord .Mallow, v^ho loves only one
being on enrth?himself. But see, Mrs.
Llyn, now that you know all, now that
we three have met again, and this island
is small and tragedy is at our
doors, don't you think your daughter
should be told the truth? It will end
everything for-me. But it would be
better so. Your conscience will be
clearer, and so will mine. We shall
have done the right thing at last. Why
did you not tell her who her father
was? Then why blame me? You held
your pence to save your daughter, ns
you thought. I hold my tongue for
the same reason: hut she is so much
a woman now that she will understand
us she could not have understood years
ago hi Limerick. In God's name let
us speak, one of us should tell her.
and I think it should he you. And
see. though I know I did right in withholding
the facts about the quarrel
with Erris I'oyne, yet I favor telling
her that he was a traitor. The whole
truth now or nothing. That Is my
view."
He saw how lined and sunken was
her face; he noted the weakness of
her carriage; lie realized the task he
was inutiic-* on her, and his heart relented.
"No, 1 will do it," he added,
with sudden will, "and I will do it
now, if 1 may."
"Oh, not today?not today!" she
said with a piteous look "Let it not
he today, it is our first day here,
and we are due at King's house tonight.
even in an hour from now."
"Kill isn't it better to end it nil
now? Suppose Lord Mallow tells her.'*
"lie iliil not before. He is not likely
now," was the vexed reply. "Is it
a thini: a gentleman will speak of to
a lady?"
"Hut you do not know Mallow. If
he thought she had seen me today,
he would not hesitate. Wjiat would
you do, if you were Lord Mallow?"
"No, not today," she persisted. "It
is all so many years ap>. It can hurt
muurht to wait a little longer."
"When and where shall it be?' he
asked ploomily.'
"At Salem?at Salem. We shall be
settled then?and steady. There is
every reason why you should consider
me. 1 have suffered as few women
have suffered, and I do not hate you.
I am only sorry."
Far down at the other end of the
garden he saw Sheila. Her face was
in profile?an exquisite silhouette. She
moved slowly among the pimento
bushes.
"As you wish," he said with a heavy
sigh. The sight of the girl anguished
his soul. \
CHAPTER XV.
At Salem.
The plantation of Salem was In a
region below the I'edro plains In the
parish of St. Elizabeth, where grow
the aloe, and torch-thistle, and clumps
of wood which alter the appearance
of the plain from the South Downs
of England. In^t where thousands oi
cattle and horses even In those days
were maintained. The air of the dis
trict was dry and elastic, and it til
tered down to the valleys near like
that where Salem was with its clus
ters of negro huts and offices, its mills
and distilleries where sugar and mm
^1nlom tt'OO ttl + liatoH nil
the Black river, accessible by boats
and canoes. The huts of negro slaves
were near the sugar mills, without
regard to order, but in clusters of bn
nana, avocado-pear, limes and oranges
and with the cultivated land rount
their huts made an effective picture.
Every plantation had a surgeon whf
received a small sum for attendance
on every slave, while special cases ol
midwifery, inoculation, etc.. had a par
tlcular nllowance. The surgeon hac
to attend to about four hundred t<
five hundred negroes, on an Income ol
?150 per annum, and hoard and lodg
ing and washing, besides what he made
from his practice with the whites.
Salem was no worse than some oth
er plantations on the island, but It wa.?
far behind such plantations as that
owned by Dyck Calhoun, and had beer
notorious for the cruelties committee
on it. To such an estate a lady like
Sheila Llyn would be a boon. She wa.<
not on the place a day before she
started reforms which would turn tilt
plantation into a model scheme
Houses, food, treatment of the negroe?
became at once a study to her, and
her experience in Virginia was inval
unble. She had learned there not tc
work the slaves too hard in the warn:
period of the day; and she showed hei
interest by having served at her own
table the favorite olio the slaves madt
of plantains, bananas, yams, calalue
eddoes, eassavl, and sweet potatoes
foiled with salt fish and flavored witt
cayenne pepper. This, with the un
ripe roasted plantain as bread, wa>
a native relish and health-giving food
"I hid it?I did not want you
to know what your father
wa?."
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
"TIRED BUSINESS MAN" MYTH
Here Are a Few Facts That Throw
Cold Water on Appellation That
Was Always Silly.
A chronically tired business maji Is
an anomaly. There ain't no such ant
mnl. Nohodv believes in him. A mac
who Is tired the round of the clock
from what he Is pleased to call over
work?who gets up tired, and goes tc
bed tired, und does all his living In a
tired way, Is entitled to cull lilrasell
by as muny names as he pleases; but
he mustn't call himself a, business
man?not unless he wants to be the
object of smiles like any other Incongrulty.
It may not be just, but It's so
Moreover, It Is perfectly just in a vasl
majority of cases.
Ninety per cent of the business men
who deceive themselves Into the notion
thut they are tired because thej
overwork ore tired because they don'l
take care of themselves, and they don'l
take care of themselves becuuse they
are too lazy and indolent to do It. Id
other words, many a so-called business
man allows himself to be chronically
tired, an outwardly respectable hobo
In a white collar. He plays the fut
boy. An unsympathetic world has a
way of telling the fat boy that If he
will eat less, take some exercise, shake
his liver and act like u normal boy he
will yawn less.
Everybody with good sense knows
that work, other things being equal, Is
a remedy for most of our Ills, and not
the cause of them. It can become otherwise
only by a perversion of thought.
?The Nation's Business.
NEW FUNCTION FOR RAILROAD
Photographs of Scenic Views Are Now
Employed to Please the Prospective
Traveler.
Nowadays the railway man does
something more than oil and repair
locomotives, run trains, keep roadbeds
in repair, and prepare time-tables. He
also takes photographs.
This is because the modern railway
man has come to broad understanding
of his function, lie Is not merely a
transformed bus driver. He is a merchant.
lie sells transportation, as a
piano dealer sells pianos, and he desires
to make his product attractive.
! The beautiful casing of a piano does
not add to its musical qualities, but it
makes the prospective purchaser
pleased with it in advance and contented
with it after lie purchases it. A
photograph does not transport a passenger
or make ids journey safe, hut
it pleases the prospective traviler and
add? an element to his Journey which
makes it more valuable to him both
in anticipation and in memory.
Hut the railway man is even more
than a merchant. He is as truly as an
j oflicer of the government a social servi
ant. Civilization is a product of
j travel. Whoever not only promotes
travel but helps to give it significance
Is a leadr in civilization. And this is
what the railway man does.
It is in this capacity, not merely as
n merchandiser of motion, but as an
enlarger of the environment of men and
teacher of what travel has to offer to
men's minds and souls, that tlie railI
way man employs the camera.?From
i the Outlook.
?J jp, ,?r- ,
TAKE TIME .
I TO i
A MINOR POINT. '
"ITlll.A ?A?? ...... AA IvAAlffl Ad
AAtite jvu uuj iriciruirc UUUAO ?U
' Napoleon Bonaparte." asked the,timid
1 old lady In a public library.
1 "Thousands of them, madam," re'
plied the librarian, proudly. "What
' particular phase of the Great Corsi- ^
can's career do you wish to study?"
"I don't suppose you'd call It a phase
of his career, and I'm sure I won't 4
' have to study thousands of books, but
I would like to know why he Is so
) often pictured with his arms folded."
1
Beside the Stream.
"A boy with a bent pin and a piece
of string will catch more fish than a
man with a fancy outfit," remarked
the affable sportsman.
"I have heard so," replied the small
boy whose luck had been bad. "But
you cun't believe most of the flsb
stories th?se city fellers make up."
AN EASY MARK
"He's an eaay mark."
"That so7"
"Yea. Everybody can get money
out of him except his wife."
Luck.
He went to see the dentist
The picture of despair.
But came back smiling broadly?
The dentist wasn't there.
Different Calculation.
"What do you understand by the *
problem of unemployment?"
"I have only studied a few Individual
cares," replied the sardonic cltl
| zen. 'In these the problem seemeu
to consist In figuring how to do as
little work as possible without going
broke.'*
Historic Figures.
, "Dou you think the historic figures
of the future will be greater than #
those of the past?"
"I'm afraid so," replied Senator Sorghum.
"The figures suggested In connection
with congressional appropriations
are becoming lurger every year."
?
Seven?Count 'Em.
A correspondent, J. M., sends us a
usable little Joke, quite all right to the
eye, though perhaps not so good to
the ear. It is this:
"Miss Dayeollete turned her back on
me."
"The vertebrazen thing!"
Too Loud.
"Oh, my." said the flapper at the
60dn fountain as the straw in her soda
became bent, "my sucker's broke!"
"Hush!" whispered her escort. "You
needn't tell everybody about It if I
am."
LUCK
Young Doctor?I havent lost a patient
since I hung up my shingle.
Other Doctor?I wish I had your
luck. Ail mine got well.
Think This Over.
It's wicked to deceive your wife,
i And any man
Makes the great errSt of his life
Who thinks he can.
Nothing Serious.
"I heard Flubdub say he hadn't a
cent left and now he's hunting for his
1 revolver. Hadn't we better watch
! him?"
"I think not. He's a sensible man
and Is merely going to pawn it."
i All Manner of Men.
>n,?i " r,im!TrL-Pii thp ndmirer
1 of poetry, "so into politics with the
' idea of leaving footprints on the sands
of time."
1 "Some do." replied Senator Sorghum.
: "And others are lucky If they get out
' without having their thumbprints
token."
Advanced English.
Jessie?Billy swears awfully.
I James (absent-mindedly)? Yes. I
can do better myself.?Notre Dame
Juggler.
? Tribute to an Unknown Genius.
"Who started the Bacon-Shakespeare
controversy?"
-t I.I T l.nn.i.r< rol.ilr.n.t Vtr
"HOW Milium i i .....
Stormlngton Barnes. "Whoever started
it knew his business. It turned out
to be the most wonderful- press agent
stuff In the history of the drama."
Welcome, Stranger.
"He's the sort of fellow you like
to play poker with."
"That so?"
"Yes. Doesn't play well enough to
win much and can afford to lose."
1