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SYNOPSIS
CHAPTER I.—Introduclnif "So Big”
mother, (Dirk D«Jo»e> Selina in Dejong. bio infancy. daughter And hi* of
Simeon Peake, gambler arid gentleman
of fortune. Her life. io young woman¬
hood In Chicago In 1888, ban been un
oonventional, aomewhat seamy, but
generally Oh is Julie enjoyable. Hempel, At daughter school her of
urn
August killed In Hempel, quarrel butcher Simeon hi* Is
a that Is not own.
and Selina, nineteen years old and
practically teacher. destitute, becomes u school¬
Chapter II
Selina had thought herself lucky to
get the Dutch school at High Prairie,
ten miles outside Chicago. Thirty dol¬
lars a month! She was to board at
the house of Kiaas Pool, the truck
farmer. It was August Hempel who
had brought it all about; or Julie,
urging him. This was In September.
High Prairie school did not open until
the first week in November. In that
region of truck farms every boy and
girl over six was busy In the fields
throughout the early autumn. Two
years of this and Selina would be
qualified for a city grade. August
Hempel Indicated that he could ar¬
range that, too, when the time came.
Selina thought this shrewd red-faced
butcher a wonderful man. Indeed.
Which he was.
At forty-seven, single-handed, he
was to establish the famous Hempel
Packing company. At fifty he was the
power In the yards, and there were
Hempel branches in Kansas City,
Omaha, Denver. At sixty you saw the
name of Hempel plnstered over pack¬
ing sheds, factories, and canning
plants all the way from Honolulu to
Portland. Vou read:
"Don’t Say Ham: Say Hempel's.”
Hempel products ranged incredibly
from pork to pineapple; from grease
to grape-,1ulce. Something of his
character may be gleaned from the
fact that farmers who had known the
butcher at forty still addressed this
millionaire, at sixty, ns Aug. At sixty
five he took up golf and bent his son
in-law, Michael Arnold, at ft. A mag¬
nificent old pirate, sailing the perilous
commercial seas of the Araertcnn '90s
before commissions. Investigations,
and Inquisitive senate Insisted on ap-*
plying whitewash to the black flag of
trade.
Seltnn went about her preparations
!n a singularly clear-headed fashion,
considering her youth and inexpert
ence. She sold one of the blue-white
diamonds, and kept one. She placed
her Inheritance of four hundred and
ninety-seven dollars, complete, In the
hank. She bought stout, sensible
hoots, two dresses, one a brown lady's
cloth which she made herself, finished
with white collars and cuffs, very neat
(the cuffs to be protected by black
sateen sleevelets, of course, while
teaching); and a wine-red cashmere
(mad, but she couldn’t resist It) for
best.
She eagerly learned what she could
of this region once known us New
Holland. Its people were all truck
gardeners, and as Dutch as the Neth¬
erlands from which they or their fa¬
thers had come. Many of them had
come from the town of Schoorl, or
near It. Others from the lowlands out¬
side Amsterdam. Selina pictured It
another Sleepy Hollow, a replica of
the quaint settlement in Washington
Irving's delightful tale. Picturing mel¬
low golden corn fields; crusty crullers,
crumbling cdy-koeks, toothsome wild
ducks, sides of smoked beef, pumpkin
pies; country dances, apple-cheeked
farmer girls, ahe felt sorry for poor
Julie staying on In the dull gray com¬
monplaceness of Chicago.
The last week In October found ber
on the wuy to High Prairie, seated be¬
side Kiaas Pool In the two-liorse wagon
with which he brought his garden stuff
to the Chicago market. Mile after mile
of cabbage fields, Jade-green against
the earth. Mile after mile of red cab¬
bage, a rich (dummy Burgundy veined
with black. Between these, heaps of
com were plted-up sunshine. Against
the horison an occasional patch ot
woods showed the last russet and
bronse of oak and maple. These things
Selina aavr with her beauty-loving eye,
aad she clasped her hands In their
hlaOt cotton gloves.
"Ob, Mr. Pool!" she cried. "Mr.
Pool I How beautiful It Is here 1”
Kiaas Pooh driving his team of
horses down the muddy Hslsted road,
was looking straight ahead, his eyes
fastened seemingly on an Invisible spot,
between the off-horse’s ears. His was
net the kind of brain that acts quickly,
nor was his body's mechanism the sort
thet quickly responds to that brain’s
message. His eyes were china-blue In
a round red face that was covered
with a stubble of stiff golden hair. His
round moon of a head was set low and
solidly between his great shoulders, so
that ss he began to turn It now, slow¬
ly, you marveled at the process and
waited fearfully to hear a creak. He
thing final, unshakable In "his delivery
of this.
"Dear me! Why not? Which ones
won’t Do tell me which ones will and
which ones won’t”
"Geertje goes to school. Jozlna goes
to school. Roelf works by the farm."
“How old is Roelf?” She was being
school teacherly again.
"Roelf is twelve."
"Twelve! And no longer at school!
But why not!’’
"Roelf he works by the farm."
"Doesn’t Roelf like school?”
“But sure.”
“Don’t you think hie ought to go to
school?”
"But sure.’’
Having begun, she could not go
back. "Doesn’t your wife want Roelf
to go to school any more?"
“Maartje? But sure.”
She gathered herself together:
hurled herself behind the next ques¬
tion. “Then why doesn’t he go to
school, for pity’s sake?”
Kiaas Pool’s pale blue eyes were
fixed on the spot between the horse’s
ears. His face was serene, placid, pa¬
tient.
"Roelf he works by the farm.”
Selina subsided, beaten.
Dusk was coming on. The lake mist
came drifting across the prairie and
hung, a pearly haze, over the frost
nipped stubble arid the leafless trees.
It caught the last light In the sky and
held It, giving to fields, trees, black
earth, tb the man seated stolidly be¬
side the girl, and to the face of the
girl herself an opalescent glow very
wonderful to see. Belina, seeing It,
opened her lips to exclaim again; and
then, remembering, closed them. She
had learned her first lesson In High
Prairie.
* ******
The Kiaas Pools lived in a typical
High Prairie house. They had passed
a score like It In the dusk. These
sturdy Holland-Americans had built
here In Illinois after the pattern of the
squat houses that dot the lowlands
about Amsterdam, Haarlem and Rot¬
terdam. A row of pollards stood stiff¬
ly by the roadside. Tard and dwelling
had a geometrical neatness like that
of a toy house In a set of playthings.
Peering down over the high wheel
Selina waited for Kiaas Pool to assist
her In alighting. He seemed to have
no such thought. Having jumped down,
Selina Stood Looking About Her in
the Dim Light, a Very Small Figure
in a Very Large World.
he was throwing empty crates and
boxes out of the back of the wagon.
So Selina, gathering her shawls and
cloak about her. clambered down the
side of the wheel and stood looking
apout her In the dim light, a very
small figure In a very large world.
Kiaas had opened the barn door. Now
he returned and slapped one of the
horses smartly on the flank. The team
trotted obediently off to the born. He
picked up her little hide-bound trunk.
She took her satchel. The yard was
quite dark now. As Kiaas Pool opened
the kitchen door the red mouth that
was the open draught In the kltche*
stove grinned a toothy welcome at
them.
A woman stood over the stove, a
fork in her hunt!. The kitchen was
elenn, but disorderly, with the disor¬
der that comes of pressure ot work.
There was a not unpleasant smell of
cooking. Selina sniffed it hungrily.
The woman turned to face them. Se¬
lina stared.
This, she thought, must be some
other—an old woman—hlg mother,
perhaps. But: “Maartje, here Is
school teacher," said Kiaas Pool. Se¬
lina put out her hand to meet the other
woman’s hand, rough, hard, calloused.
Her own, touching it, was like satin
against a pine board. Maartje smiled,
and you saw her broken discolored
teeth. She pushed back the sparse
hair from her high forehead, fumbled
a little, ahyly, at the collar of her
dean blue calico dress.
“Pleased to meet you," Maartje
said, primly. "Make you welcome.’’
Then, as Pool stamped out to the yard,
slamming the door behind him, ‘Tool
be eoold have come with yon by the
front way, too. Lay off your things,”
Selina began to remove the wrappings
that swathed hen—the muffler, the
shawl, the cloak. Now she stood, a
slim, incongruously elegant little fig¬
ure In that kitchen. The brown lady’s
cloth was very tight and basqued
above, very flounced and bustled be¬
low. "My, how you are young!” cried
Maartje. She moved nearer, as If im¬
pelled. and fingered the stuff of Seli¬
na’s gown. And as she did this Selina
sudd enly saw that she, too, was young.
was turning Ms head toward Selina,
hut keeping his gaze on the spot be¬
tween his horse’s ears. Evidently the
head and the eyes revolved by quite
distinct processes. Now he faced Se¬
lina almost directly. His pale blue eyes
showed Incomprehension.
"Beautiful?” fie echoed, In puzzled
Interrogation. “What Is beautiful?”
Selina’s slim arms flashed out from
the swathlngs of cloak, shawl, and muf¬
fler and were flung wide In a gesture
that embraced the landscape on which
the late afternoon sun was casting a
glow peculiar to that lake region, all
rose and golden and mist-shimmering.
"This! The—the cabbages.”
A slow-dawning film of fun crept
over the blue of Kiaas Pool’s stare.
This film spread almost imperceptibly
so that it fluted his broad nostrils, met
and widened his full lips, reached and
agitated his massive shoulders, tickled
the round belly, so that all Klaa» Pool,
from his eyes to his waist, was rip¬
pling and shaking with slow, solemn,
heavy Dutch mirth.
"Cabbages Is beautiful!” bis round
pop eyes staring at her In a fixity of
glee. “Cabbages Is beautiful 1” His
silent laughter now rose and became
audible in a rich throaty chortle. It
was plain that laughter, with Kiaas
Pool, was not a thing to be lightly dis¬
missed, once raised. “Cabbages—” he
choked a little, and spluttered, over¬
come.
Selina laughed, too, even while she
protested his laughter. “But they
are!" she Insisted. "They are beauti¬
ful. Like Jade and Burgundy. No,
like—uh—like—what’s that in—like
chrysoprase and porphyry. All those
fields of cabbages and the corn and
the heet-tops together look like Persian
patches.”
Which was, certainly, no way for a
new school teacher to talk to a Hol¬
land truck gardener driving his team
along the dirt road on his way to High
Prairie. But then, Selina, remember,
had read Byron at seventeen.
Kiaas Pool knew nothing of chry
»opra8e and porphyry. Nor of Byron.
Nor, for that matter, of jade and Bur¬
gundy. But he did know cabbages,
both green and red. He knew cabbage
from seed to sauerkraut; he knew and
grew varieties from the sturdy Flat
Dutch to the early Wakefield. But
that they were beautiful; that they
looked like Jewels; that they lay like
Persian patches, had never entered his
head, and rightly. What has the
head of n cabbage, or for that matter,
of a robust, soll-stnlned, tolling Dutch
truck farmer to do with nonsense like
chrysoprase, with jade, with Burgundy,
\v£h Persian patterns!
The horses eiopped down the heavy
country road. Now and again the bulk
beside Selina was agitated silently, as
before. And from between the golden
fuzz of stubble beard she would hear,
"Cabbages! Cabbages Is—’’ But she
(lid not feel offended. She could not
have been offended at anything today.
For in spite of her recent tragedy, her
nineteen years, her loneliness, the ter¬
rifying thought of this new home to
which she wa* going, among strangem,
shq was conscious of a warm thrill of
elation, of excitement-of adventure!
That was It. "The whole thing’s Just
a grand adventure," Simeon Peake had
said. Selina gave a little bounce of
anticipation. She was doing a revolu¬
tionary and daring thing; a thing that
the Vermont and now. fortunately. In¬
accessible Peakes would have regarded
with horror. For equipment she had
youth, curiosity, a steel-strong frame;
one brown lady’s-cloth, one wine-red
cashmere; four hundred and ninety
seven dollars; and a gay, adventure¬
some spirit that was never to die,
though It led her Into curious places
and she often found, at the end, only
a trackless waste from which she had
to retrace her steps, painfully. But
always, to her, red and green cabbages
were to be jade and Burgundy, chr.vs
oprnse and porphyry. Life has no
weapons against a woman like that.
Kiaas Poo) was a school director.
She was to live at his house. Perhaps
she should not have said that about the
cabbages. So now she drew herself up
primly and tried to appear the school
teacher, and succeeded In looking as
severe as a white pansy.
"Ahem!” (or nearly that). "Ton
have three children, haven’t you. Mr.
Pool? They’ll all be my pupils?”
Kiaas Pool mm 1 Dated on this. He
concentrated so that a slight frown
marred the serenity of his brow. In
thla double question of hens, an at¬
tempt to give the conversation a digni¬
fied turn, she had apparently created
some difficulty for her host. He was
trying to shake his head two ways at
the same time. This gave It a rotary
motion. Selina saw, with amazement,
that he was attempting to add negation
and confirmation at once.'’
"Ton mean you haven’t—or they're
not?—or— ?”
“I have got three children. All will
not b e your pupils.” There was some¬
The bad teeth, the thin hair, the care
less dress, the littered kitchen, the
harassed frown—above all these,
standing out dearly, appeared the look
of a girt
"Why, I do believe she's not more
than twenty-eight!’’ Selina said to her
self in a kind of panic. “I do believe
she’s not more than twenty-eight"
She had been aware of the two plg
tailed heads appearing and vanishing
In the doorway of the next room. Evl
dently her hostess was distressed be
cause the school .teacher's formal en
trance had not been made by way of
parlor instead of kitchen. She fol¬
lowed Maartje Pool Into the front
room. Behind the stove, tittering,
were two yellow-haired little girls.
Geertje and Jozlna, of course. Selina
went over to them, smiling. “Which
is Geertje?” she asked. "And which
Jozlna.” But at this the titters be¬
came squeals. They retired behind
the round black bulwark of the wood
burner, overcome.
Selina’s quick glance encompassed
the room. In the window were a few
hardy plants in pots on a green-paint¬
ed wooden rack. There was a sofa
with a wrinkled calico cover; three
rocking chairs; some stark crayons of
Incredibly hard-featured Dutch an¬
cients on the wall. It was all neat,
stiff, unlovely. But Selina had known
too many years of boarding-house ugli¬
ness to be offended at this.
• Maartje hud lighted a small glass
bowled lamp. A steep, unearpeted
Stairway, inclosed, led off the sitting
room. Up this Maartje Pool, talking,
led the way to Selina's bedroom. Se¬
lina was to learn that the farm wom¬
an, often Inarticulate through luck of
companionship, becomes a torrent of
talk when opportunity presents Itself.
A narrow, dim, close-smelling hall¬
way, unearpeted. At the end of it a
door opening into the room that was
to be Selina’s. As its chill struck her
to the marrow three objects caught
her eyes. The bed, a huge and
not unhandsome walnut mausoleum,
reared its somber height almost to the
room's top. The mattress of straw
and cornhusks was unworthy of this
edifice, but over it Mrs. Pool had
mercifully placed a feather bed,
stitched and quilted, so that Selina
lay soft and warm through the win¬
ter. Along one wall stood a low chest
so richly brown as to appear black.
The front panel of this was curiously
carved. Belina stooped before It and
for the second time that day said;
"How beautiful I” then looked quick¬
ly round at Maartje Pool as though
fearful of finding her laughing as
Kiaas Pool had laughed. But Mrs.
Pool’s face reflected the glow In her
own. She came over to Selina and
stooped with her over the chest, hold¬
ing the lamp so that Its yellow flame
lighted up the scrolls and tendrils of
the carved surface. With one dis¬
colored forefinger she traced the bold
flourishes on the panel. "See? How
It makes out letters?”
Selina peered closer. "Why, sure
enough! This first one’s an S!’’
Maartje was kneeling before the
chest now. "Sure an S. For Sophia.
It Is a Holland bride’s chest. And
here Is K. And here is big D. It
makes Sophia Kroon DeVries. It Is
anyways two hundred years. My
mother she gave it to me when I was
married, and her mother she gave It
to her when she was married, and
her mother gave it to her when she
was married, and her—”
"I should think so!" exclaimed Se¬
lina, rather meaninglessly; but steal¬
ing the torrent. “What’s In It? Any¬
thing? There ought to be bride’s
clothes In It, yellow with age.”
"It is!” cried Maartje Pool and gave
a little bounce that imperiled the
lamp.
"No!” The two on their knees sat
smiling at each other, wide-eyed, like
schoolgirls.
"Here—wait.” Maartje Pool thrust
the lamp Into Selina’s hand, raised
the lid of the chest, dived expertly
Into Its depths amidst a great rustling
»f old newspapers and emerged red¬
faced with a Dutch basque and volum¬
inous skirt of silk; an age-yellow cap
whose wings, stiff with embroidery,
stood out grandly on either side; a
pair of wooden shoes, stained terra¬
cotta like the sails of the Vollendam
fishing boats, and carved from toe to
heel is a delicate and Intricate pat¬
tern. A bridal gown, a bridal cap,
bridal shoes.
"Well!” said Selina, with the feel¬
ing of a little girl in a rich attic on
a rainy day. She clasped her hands.
"May I dress up in it sometime?"
Maartje Pool, folding the garments
hastily, looked shocked and horrified.
“Never must anybody dress up in a
bride’s dress, only to get married. It
brings bad iuck.” Then, as Selina
stroked the stiff silken folds of the
skirt with a slim and caressing fore¬
finger: "So you get married to a
High Prairie Dutchman 1 let you wear
It.” At this absurdity they both
laughed again. .Selina thought that
this school-teaching venture was start¬
ing out very well. She would have
such things to tell her father-then
she remembered. She shivered a lit¬
tle as she stood up now. There surged
over her a great wave of longing for
her father—for the theater treats, for
his humorous philosophical drawl,
for the Chicago streets, and the ugly
Chicago houses; for Julie; for Miss
Sister's school; for anything and any
one that was accustomed, known, and
therefore dear. She had a horrible
premonition that she was going to
try, began to blink very fast, turned
a little blindly in the dim light and
eaogbt sight of the room’s third ar¬
resting object. A blue-black cylinder
of On sheeting, like a stove and yet
unlike. It was polished like the
length ot pipe in the sitting-room be¬
low. Indeed, It was evidently a giant
flower of this stem.
“What’s that?” demanded Selina,
pointing.
Maartje Pool, depositing the lamp
on the little waab-stand preparatory
to leaving, smiled pridefully. “Dfam.’’
"Drum?"
“For heat your room.” Selina
touched It. It was icy. "When there
is fire," Mrs. Pool added, hastily.
Selina was to learn that its heating
powers were mythical. Even when
the stove In the sitting room was
blazing away with a cheerful roar none
of the glow communicated Itself to
the drum. It remained as coolly In¬
different to the blasts breathed upon
It as a girl hotly besieged by an un¬
welcome lover.
"Maartje!’’ roared a voice from
belowstairs. The voice of the hungry
male. There was wafted up, too. a
faint smell of scorching. Then came
sounds of a bumping and thumping
along the narrow stairway.
“Og heden!” cried Maartje, in a
panic, ber hands high in air. She
was off.
Left alone in her room Selina un¬
locked her trunk and took from it two
photographs—one of a mild-iooking
man with his hat a little on one side,
the other of a woman who might have
been a twenty-five-year-old Selina,
minus the courageous jaw-iine. Look¬
ing about for a fitting place on which
to stand these leather-framed treas¬
ures she considered the. top of the chill
drum, humorously, then actually placed
them there, for lack of a better refuge,
from which vantage point they regard¬
ed her with politely interested eyes.
Perhaps they would put up a shelf for
her. That would serve for her little
stock of books and for the pictures as
well. She was enjoying that little
flush of exhilaration that comes to a
woman, unpacking. She took out her
neat pile of warm woolen underwear,
her stout shoes. Site shook out the
crushed folds of the wine-colored cash
mere. Now, if ever, she should have
regretted its purchase. But she didn’t.
No one, she reflected, as she spread It
rosily on the bed, possessing wine-col¬
ored cashmere could be altogether
downcast.
From below stairs came the hiss of
frying. Selina washed in the chill wa¬
ter of the basin, took down her hair
and coiled it again before the swlmmy
little mirror over the wash-stand. She
adjusted the stitched white bands of
the severe collar and patted the cuffs
of the brown lady’s-cloth. The tight
basque was fastened with buttons from
throat to waist. Her fine long head
rose above this trying base with such
grace and dignity as to render the stiff
garment beautiful, it was a day of
appalling bunchiness and equally ap¬
palling tightness in dress; of panniers,
galloons, plastrons, revers, bustles,
all manner of lumpy bedevilment. That
Selina could appear in this disfiguring
garment a creature still graceful, slim,
and pliant was a sheer triumph of
spirit over matter.
She blew out the light now and de¬
scended the steep wooden stairway to
the unllghted parlor. The door be¬
tween parlor and kitchen was closed.
Selina sniffed sensitively. There was
pork for supper. She was to learn that
there was always pork for supper.
She hesitated a moment there in the
darkness. Then she opened the kitch¬
en door. There swam out at her a haze
of smoke, from which emerged round
blue eyes, guttural talk, the smell of
frying grease, of stable, of loam, and
of woolen wash freshly brought in from
the line. With an inrush of cold air
that sent the blue haze into swirls the
outer kitchen door opened. A boy,
his arm piled high with stove-wood,
entered; a dark, handsome sullen boy
who stared at Selina over the armload
of wood. Selina stared back at him.
There sprang to life between the boy
of twelve and the woman of nineteen
an electric current of feeling.
"Roelf,” thought Selina; and even
took a step toward him, inexplicably
drawn.
“Hurry then with that wood there!"
fretted Maartje at the stove. The boy
flung the armful into the box, brushed
his sleeve and coat-front mechanically,
still looking at Selina.
Kiaas Pool, already at table,
thumped with his knife. “Sit down,
teacher.” Selina hesitated, looked at
Maartje. Maartje was holding a fry¬
ing pan aloft in one hand while with
the other she thrust and poked a fresh
•tick of wood Into the open-lidded
, (Continued on page 7,
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Phene No. 10 Camilla, Ga.
] Foreigners Are
Fleeing Out Of
Canton, China
_
i NEW YORK. — Foreigners are
! streaming out of Canton, which
: threatens to become a new danger
! spot in the Chinese antiforeign move¬
ment.
Steamers leaving for Hong Kong
and Macao are crowded with whites,
mostly missionaries, including also
business men and their families. Di¬
rect Canton dispatches say the situa
iton is “extremely grave.”
The exodus coincides with the be¬
ginning of an announced general
strike in Shamanee, the foreign quar¬
ter of Canton, where all the native
servants and clerks have walked out.
Their action, according to observ¬
ers, was taken with the approval of
fhe Canton government. Strong an
fiforeign feeling is prevalent among
Certain classes, and one dispatch re¬
ports the assassination of M. Nakad
sky, a Japanese, by an unidentified
Chinese at the Shamanee gate.
A strike similar to that in Canton
has been started at Hong Kong. Chi¬
nese servants employed by foreign- •
ers in the Peak district walked out,
and the movement extended also to
hotel employes.
A Hong Kong dispatch early today
said the government had proclaimed
•a series of emergency regulations,
instituting postal and telegraphic cen¬
sorship and police control over build-'
ings.
Licenses will be required for the
exportation of foodstuff and curren¬
cy.
Epsom Salts Is Mined
From Mountain Lake
WENATCHEE, Wash.—The world’s
greatest deposit of Epsom salts is
feeing mined from an ancient lake bed
in the mountains of the extreme north
central part of this state. Under a 12
foot covering of mud, itself testing
55 per cent Epsom salts, is a layer
of from 18 to 28 feet of the product
which assays 95 per cent pure.
Development was recently started.
Tunnels have been run through the
solid crystal formation, dynamite be¬
ing used to loosen it, after which it is «
shipped ten miles away to Oroville for
refining.
Besides being a base for over 100
chemicals, these salts have a wide
commercial usage, ranging from face
powder to brake linings.
Says Brother Williamt
Of course, Time an’ Tide ain’t goln’
to wait for you. Both of ’em has got
business to attend to, and they’ve got
to get there.—Atlanta Constitution.
Camilla Council R. & S. M. No. 31
meets 5th Thursday Night at 7:30,
all visiting Companions invited.
M. A. Warren, Jno. C. Butler,
111 Master. Recorder.
Camilla Lodge No. 128 F. & A. M.
meets 1st Thursday Nights at 7:30,
3rd Thursday Afternoons at 2:30. a,
Visiting brethren invited.
Jno. C. Butler, J. L. Palmer,
W. M. Sect’y.
Camilla Chapter No. 133 meets 3rd
Thursday Night at 7:30 Visiting
Companions invited.
P. C. Cullens, Jno. C. Butler,
H. P. Recorder.