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THE SUNNY SOUTH.
5
On Getting a Letter.
ITo my friend, Edward Arnold Let.)
I one day mid the shadows
Of a weary, beclouded life,
And said, with a bitter heart-cry,
“Life is nothing but toil and strife!”
®[R“t then from out the darkness,
That seemed my life's greater part,
There came an inspiring message.
Sent from a brave, true heart.
And it softened all my sorrow,
It stilled all the bitter pain;
And said to my doubting spirit,
“There are higher heights to attain.”
It swept away all the shadows
Of bitterness, doubt and scorn,
As the mists are swept from the meadows,
By the bright sunrise of morn.
Searcy, Ark.
“Dolok»s.”
A NEW FESTIVAL ERA.
WHAT IT IS AND WHAT HAS LED TO IT
The Fruit and Flower Feast—Peach Day—Ap
ple Day—Potato Day—A Carnival
for King Corn—The Rabbit
Hunt for Thanks
giving Day.
D ISCONTENT with the old estab
lished ways has caused in the
West some odd features in amuse
ments that are at once strange
and interesting. They are the
result of a desire for the novel
and attractive, and they fill the requirements.
A new fashion in fairs has arisen that is as
odd as the conditions that led to it. When
the price of horses was, by the coming of
the bicycle, diminished until it became a
thing for ridicule, the farmers could not be
induced to go to the county fair. They
would not take their live stock, for they had
not attempted to produce any that was of a
high order. Having nothing to show, they
remained at home. Then came the autumn
in the parade that is a feature of the festival
would be a credit to the gayest fete of the old
world. New conceits have been added to the
original design until the celebration extends
over several days and is the scene of a mighty
gathering of visitors.
The ranchmen have no notion of being out
done by their more favored brethren and have
inaugurated a “peach day” that is unique in
many ways. The fruit is given out to all,
and there are some speeches to make the
visitors remember the occasion. All the
farmers contribute to the supplies of the
feast. But this is not all the variety. One
is astonished to find at what length the idea
may be carried. In the irrigated region
comes “potato day,” at which there are pota
toes baked, fried, boiled and stewed for the
visitors, with plenty of relishes on the side
to make them palatable. Potato chips by
the bushel are heaped up, and every one is
urged to fill his mouth and his pocket.
A little later the apple is ripe, and “apple
day” is the occasion for another gathering of
those who are enjoying these new styles in
autumn festivals. Next comes corn, and
a veritable carnival is indulged in at Atch
ison, Kan., where this festival was started.
Not only are there decorations of corn in the
stalk and in the ear, but there is one night
in which the young folks roam the streets,
pelting all passers with the kernels. The
next day the pavements are like the floor of
a mill with the bushels of grain that has been
thrown and crushed during the fun.
But this is not the end. When the cooler
days are at hand, the festivals take on a com
mercial aspect, and then come the “feast of
mountain and plain,” the“priests of Pallas,”
the “veiled prophets” and the other gayeties
that can be seen only in a large city. The
preparations for these begin early in the
summer and are very costly, but they repay
the orignators in the influx of visitors that
follows. Floral decorations are attempted in
these, too, but the flowers are of paper, and
the colored lights make up for the lack of
reality.
BEFORE THE FEAST.
festivals, which have this year reached their
full perfection. They are the great amuse
ment features of the West, and their attrac
tiveness is entirely deserved.
To make one of the festivals a success a
whole community must unite in it. It means
weeks of preparation and much expense. It
is usually based on some distinguishing
feature of the vicinity’s productions and is,
in a way, an advertisement of the same. But
his is a secondary matter, and the people who
are interested only want a crowd in the city,
and they get it.
Flowers and fruits are the inspiration of
the new order. The resources of the com
munities are drawn upon generously. The
first in age is the watermelon day of Eastern
Colorado, which is each year observed with
increasing interest. It has its headquarters
at Rocky Ford, in the heart of the irrigated
region, and where thousands of acres are de
voted to the juicy melon. On the appointed
day there is syeen heaped high behind wide
tables a pile of hundreds on hundreds of the
biggest, juiciest and sweetest melons that the
farmers can gather, and to distribute them
are ranged a score of strong young men, each
armed with a huge cleaver, to slice up the
fruit. On special trains come the people
until there is present a throng that fills the
grove. Everybody eats melon, and every
thing is free. All day the cleavers flash, and
at night there is only a vast spread of rinds
to show what an onslaught has been made.
Many come a hundred miles to see the fete,
and it is growing in importance as a distinc
tive festival.
The newest of the displays is “sunflower
day,” which was observed in great splendor
this summer at Colorado Springs. The deco
rations were all of this blossom of the plains,
and the great yellow and black disks made
a most effective ornament for the occasion.
The gayly bedecked carriages that are seen
The long procession of festivals is ended at
Thanksgiving by the big rabbit hunts of the
foothills, when the homes of the fertile cot
tontails are raided and thousands of the fleet
creatures are killed in a day to be sent to the
poor of some adjoining city.
By this series of festivals the amusements
of the West have been revolutionized and the
oldtime fair has been made a thing of the
past. They show that the tendency of the
West is toward something original as well as
odd in its amusements and mark a new era in
the public fetes and celebrations of the time.
The participants enter into the spirit of these
holidays with a zeal quite unknown to the
days of the county fair, because more people
can have a part in the doings. Unique and
of real utility, the western festivals have
come to stay and will make their way east
ward to succeed the fairs and expositions that
there are yet in vogue.
C. M. HARGER.
One gets an idea of the magnificent dis
tance of the czar’s realm from learning that
a Russian general who was in a hurry to get
to St. Petersburg from Vladivostok found
the time-saving route was to go to Yokoha
ma by steamer, thence by another steamer
across the Pacific to San Francisco, by rail
to New York, and by steamer to Europe.
The gap between the finished sections of the
trans-Siberian railroad is so many hundred
miles in length that the general would have
lost time in traversing the wilds of that vast
country, where horses furnish all the trans
port.
Love is the greatest and grandest founda
tion stone upon which the human character
is built. Lacking it, a man is a moral zero.
—Rev. O. J. Davies.
A ROMANCE OF DARNS.
BY BEULAH R. STEVENS.
M EIGHO for bonny Florida !” The
speaker threw down his book
and flung himself at his ease in
the roomy hammock. A great
water oak roofed him in, orange
blossoms and golden jasmine
saluted him with their incense and for a few
moments he lay, utterly, consciously con
tent. Then a sloppy little voice broke the
spell.
“Wash faw yuh, suh.”
What absurdly small things make or mar
our happiness. A moment before, and the
world seemed wholly bright and beautiful:
now, after a glance at the basket, Max Ruth
erford laughed a rueful little laugh at the
feeling of annoyance that possessed him.
“There are three pairs in there,” he said,
slowly, while two great eyes rolled their
whitef toward him in uncomprehending as
tonishment. “Three pairs—and every blessed
pair is full of holes.”
Then he went resignedly to his room that
the small “nig” might deposit his “wash” on
the bed. But lo, after the dirty little creature
had slouched his way down stairs, Max found
to his astonishment that the three pairs were
not full of holes, but were covered, heel and
toe, with most lovely and artistic darns!
But, alas, as he turned one sock over to ex
amine this wonder, he became aware there
were intials marking it—J. S. H., and—the
socks were next his own !
“I am going to put on a pair of them any
way and enjoy those darns, if they’re not
mine. ”
And, with a childishness born of pure want
of occupation, he proceeded to robe his pedal
extremities in a pair and “enjoy those
darns.” He resumed his shoes and his former
lack of occupaton, but as he lay once more
day-dreaming in the hammock, an idea struck
him that transformed him instantly into the
brisk and business-like young fellow that
his New York friends knew.
“By George, I’ll find out what girl did
these darns, and if—why, if—I’ll marry her,
dogged, if I don’t.”
He had been in town only three weeks,
taking a rest after a year’s hard work on his
first markedlv successful novel. Already his
genial, boyish whole-heartedness had won him
many friends, and his active feet had made
him familiar with every by-way of the town
and the surrounding hammocks and woods
for a mile’s radius. He possessed one happy
gift that is, in itself, a guarantee of populari
ty, the faculty of being able to catalogue ac
curately and permanently every face he saw
for more than a passing moment.
So, when in his earlier perambulations, he
had passed the various shanties of Brittsville,
the “colored” portion of the town, he in
stantly recognized his own “wash lady” in
the grinning darkey that gave him a cordial
“howdy, suh;” and he knew now where to
look for her and the informaiton he desired.
A brisk walk .brought him to her door and
tactful inquiry developed the fact that those
precious darns were the property of one Joe
Hill whose sister kept house for him, hence
it was no doubt Miss Agnes Hill’s white
fingers that had. wrought the miracle. Max’s
faithful memory called up her face seen twice
very Sabbath in the choir of the one little
church the town boasted. His heart beat a
little faster as he recalled the beauty of the
sweet, pure voice: a voice far more beautiful
than her face, though that was fair and
womanly enough.
“I’ll do it,” said Max heartily; and de
parted to lay the train that was to make him
a well-darned benedict. A spoiled child,
was Max Rutherford, full of whimsical fan
cies and quaint ideas, and accustomed from
childhood to have them gratified as speedily
as might be.
How he managed it recks not, but he was
soon a welcome visitor at the little white
cottage where a pink vine draped the porch
and mingled its rosy sprays with the starry
racemes of the white jasmine. A hearty
friendship sprang up between himself and
the Hills and he often pictured to himself
a home where the quiet and serene presence
of Agnes would make life one long content
ment.
But alas, for human nature !
As he sauntered up to the little cottage one
evening during the short, tropical twilight,
a sense of change struck him. A hammock
of gayest tints swayed gently on the porch
and, as his foot fall sounded on the step,
some one slipped out of it and stood con
fronting him. Max never forgot the picture.
Framed by rosy sprays that drooped to kiss
the clustering curls of duskiest hair, stood
a small, slender young creature, her big
eyes, dark as her hair, gazing at him with a
half smile in their depths, while round a
saucy, crimson mouth, merriest dimples
came and went. One fair rounded arm was
thrown up toward the vines from her face
and the loose black sleeve had slipped above
the elbow, showing its white beauty against
the rosy background.
“You must be Max Rutherford,” the
vision said, stepping forward to give him her
hand in cordial greeting; “ I am Willie
Douglas. ”
Max murmured something in reply, he
never knew what; but in that moment he
became conscious that artistic darns were not
all of life; and, as he thought of Agnes, he
almost laughed aloud at the absurdity of his
former plans. Who would be satisfied with
rest and contentment when bounding life
and rapturous bliss were possibilities?
“You came to town the very day after I
left, I believe,” chattered Willie; “but Joe
and Agnes have written so much about you
that I feel as though I had known you a long
time.”
^ “I am flattered, I am sure,” Max found
tongue to say; “ah—you—”
“I hope you are going to make a lengthy
visit this time so that we may become friends
in reality as well as in imagination.”
. Willie stared at him.
“Visit,” with a merry laugh, “well, yes,
I’ve been ‘visiting’ my good cousins for
some three years now and shouldn’t wonder
if I should be here three more.”
“0,1 see; you make your home with
them. ”
“ “Yes, I’ve been to Tampa on a visit and
I see that my cousins have not seen fit to in
troduce me to you even by name. I’ll have
a setlement with them.”
“O, but yes,” interrupted Max; “they
have sung your praises heartily and desired
me to know ‘cousin Will,’ and Joe assured
me you were the jolliest fellow alive, but
you see—they—”
“Yes, I see,” she broke in merrily as he
hesitated; “it’s all owing to my absurd
name. But,” with a little sigh, “it’s ever so
much better than to be called Billie as
every one used to do.”
* * * *
Well, they were married; and, in the
piquant and changeful beauty of his little
bride, Max lost sight of the fact that there
exist defects in her housewifely education.
And, indeed, much might be forgiven to a
character so bright and beautiful and withal
so wholly sweet and good.
But one day soon after their installment in
their New York home, the subject of the
darns recurred to Max. He slipped an arm
around his little wife as he said half jok
ingly:
“When we go to Florida next winter there
is one thing I am going to ask you to do,
dearie.”
“What’s that, my lord,” throwing! her
head back against his breast.
“I want you to get Agnes to teach you to
darn.” Then, in answer to her perplexed
look, he seated himself in an arm chair and
drew her down upon his knee. “I’ve a little
story to tell you,” he said, and then began a
graphic recital of his experience with the
darns.
As he proceeded with his plan for marry
ing Agnes, Willie’s face flushed and tears
came to her eyes ; but when he came to his
meeting with herself and the immediate
flight of all such thoughts, she slipped one
arm around his neck and hiding her face
upon his breast, trembled with emotion.
In alarm and compunction, he raised her
head, only to find the dimples in full play,
the changeful face sparkling with mirth, and
the saucy eyes filled with tears of merriment.
“Why, you dear, old goose,” she cried,
taking his perplexed face between her rosy
palms, “I’ve done all their darning for years.
It seemed to come natural to me and I tried
to teach Agnes, but somehow she could never
get the knack and so—”
“O, rapture!”
In France licenses are issued to women to
wear male clothing. One holder of a license
is the manageress of a printing office.
A bride in Montreal appeared at the altar
with her pet canary fastened to her shoulder
by a golden chain. During the marriage
ceremony the bird broke into song.
Home, dear home, if it only holds a vener
able mother, or a little child, or any being
who is dear and fond and true, thank God
for it, and cling to it as to very life.—Pres
byterian Journal.
“Getting even,” is a hazardous business.
It is much easier to “get even” with the
wrong in a man than with a man in the
wrong. One can much better afford to re
main uneven with such a man than to lower
one’s self to unevenness with the right. The
temptation to show our wit and to gratify
our passion by a mere verbal victory over
him Who has wronged us is doubtless very
great. But every great temptation ought to
be well considered before it is yielded to. It
is safe to keep uneven with the wrong-doer.
Nothing is harder than to forgive the man
whom we have wronged.—S. S. Times.