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About The frontier. (O'Neill City, Holt County, Neb.) 1880-1965 | View Entire Issue (Aug. 28, 1924)
TShe Ragged Edge by Harold MacGrath “A week ” “My coat, please.” “I* is folded under your pil low.” “Did I ask for it!” VYes. But perhaps you don’t know; there was nothing in the pockets. You were probably robbed in Hong-Kong.” “Nothing in the pockets.” “You see. wo didn’t know but you might die; and so we had to search your belongings for the address of your people.” “I have no people—anybody who would care.’! She kindled with sympathy, lie was alone, too. Nobody who cared. Ruth was inflammable; she would always be flaring up swift ly, in pity, in tenderness, in anger; she would always be j answering impulses, without aeeking to weigh or to analyse them. She was emerging from the primordial as Spurlock was deolining toward it. She was on the rim of civilization, entering, as Spurlock was on the rim, pre paring to make his exit. Two aouls in travail; one inspired by fresh hopes, tho other, by fresh despairs. Both of them would be committing novel and unfor gettable acts. “How long shall I be here!” he asked. i “That depends upon you- Not very long, if you want to get well.” “Are you a nurse!” “Yes. Don’t ask any more questions. Wait a little j rest.” There was a pause. Ruth flash ed in and qut of the sunshine; and ho took note of the radiant nimbus above her head each time the sunshine touched her hair. “Haven’t I seen you some where before!” “The first day you came. Don’t you remember! There were four of us, aud we went touring in the city.” ’ •* “As in a dream.” There was •"other pause. “Was I out of my head!” “Yes.” 4'What did I say t” “Only one word,” she said* offering her first white lie. “What was itt” He was in sistent. “You repeated the word‘Pool' over and over.” “Nothing elset” “No. Now, no more questions, or I shall be forced to leave the room.” “I promise t > *><dc no more.” “Would you like to have mo read to yout” He did not answer. So she took up Stevenson and began to read aloud She read beautifully because the fixed form of the poem signified nothing. She went from period to period exactly as she would have read prose; so that sense and music were equally balanced. She read for half an hour, then closed the book because Spurlock appeared to have fallen asleep. But he was wide awake. “What poot was that?” “Stevenson.” Ruth had read from page to page in “The Child's Garden .pji^erse,” gener ally unfamiliar to the admirers of Stevenson-. Of course Ruth was ' not av?tro that in this same volume there were lyrics known the world over. ; * Immediately Spurlock began to chant one of these. “ ‘Under the wide and starry sky. Dig the grave and let me lie. Glad did I ll've and gladly die. And I laid me down-with a will." I * ‘This be the verse you grays fqr . me: Here hs lies where: he longed to • o. . . • Home Is the sailor, home from the sea, ' * And the hunter home from the hill.’ ** “What is thst’t” she asked. Something in his tone' pinched her heart. “DM you write it!” “No. Yon will'find it some where in that book- Ah, if I had written that 17> “Don’t you want to Hvet” ■“I don’t know; I really don’t know.” “But you are young!” It was a protest, almost vehement. She remembered the doctor’s warn ing that the real buttle would begin when the patient recovered consciousness. “You have all the world before you.” “Rather behind me;” and he spoke no more that morning. Throughout the afternoon, while the doctor was giving her the first lesson out of his pro found knowledge of life, her in terest would break away con tinually, despite her honest ef forts to pin it down to the fafits so patiently elucidated for her. Recurrently she heard: “I don’t know; I really don’t know.” It was curiously like the intermit tent murmur of the surf, those weird Sundays, when her father paused for breath to launch ad ditional damnation for those who disobeyed the Word. “I don’t know; I really don’t know.” Her ear caught much of the lesson, and many things she stor ed away; but often what she heard was sound without sense. Still, her face never betrayed this distraction. And what was singular she did not recount to the doctor that morning’s ad venture. Whyt If she had put the query to her self, she could not have answered it. It was in no sense confessional; it was a state of mind in the patient the doctor had already Anticipat ed. Yet she held her tongue. As for the doctor, he found a pleasure in this service that would have puzzled him had he paused to analyse it. There was scant social life on the Shamien aside from masculine fbregathe ings, little that interested him. He took his social pleasures onoe a year in Hong-Kong, after Easter. He saw, without any particular regret, that this year he would have to forego the junket; but there would be ample compensation in the study of these queer youngsters. Besides, by the time they were off his hands, old McClintock would be dropping in to have his liver renovated. All at once he recollected the fact that McClintock’s copra plantation was down that way, somewhere in the South Seas; had an island of his own. Perhaps he had heard of this Enschede Mac—the old gossip—knew about everything going on in that part of the world; and if Enschede was anything up to the picture the girl had drawn, McOlintock would have heard of him. naturally. He might solve the riddle. All of which proves that the doctor also had his moments of distraction, with this difference: he was not dis tracted from his subject matter. “So endeth the first lesson," he said. “Suppose we go and have teat I’d like to take you to a tea-house I know, but we’ll go to the Victoria instead. I must practice what I preach." “I should be unafraid to go anywhere with you." “Lord, that’s just the lesson I’ve been expounding! It isn’t a question of fear; it’s one of propriety.” “I’ll never understand." “You don’t have to. I’ll tell you what. I’ll write out certain rules of conduct, and then you’ll never be in doubt." She laogLed; and it was pleasant laughter in his ears. If only this child were his: what good times they would have to gether! The thought passed on, but it left a little ache in his . heart. “Why do you laught" he asked. “All that you have been telling me, our old Kanaka cook summed up in a phrase." “What was it!" “Never glance sideways at a inan.”^ “The whole thing in a nut shell 1 ’ ’ “Are there no men a woman may trust absolutely!" “Hang it, that isn’t it. Of course there are, millions of them. It’s public opinion. We all have to kow-tow to that." “Who made such a law!" “This world is governed by minorities—in politics, in religioh in society. Majorities, right or wrong, dare not revolt. Foot prints, and we have to. to4dle along in them, willy-nilly; and those who have the courage to step outside the appointed path •re .fc’.led pariahs!" "I’m afraid I shall not lik« this world very much. It is putting all my dreams out of joint." * "Never let the unknown edge in upon your courage. The world is like a peppery horse. If he senses fear in the touch of your hand, he’ll give you trouble." "It’s all so big and aloof. It isn’t friendly as I thought It would be. I don’t know; I real ly don’t know," she found her self repeating. He drew her away from this thought. "I read those stories." "Are they good!" "He can write; but he hasn’t found anything real to write about. He hasn’t found himself, as they say. He’s rewriting Poe and De Maupassant; and that stuff was good only when Poe and De Maupassant wrote it. "How do you spell the last namef" He spelt it. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw a faint shudder stir her shoulders. "Not the sort of sthries young ladies should read. Poe is all right, if you don’t mind nightmares. But De Maupassant—sheer off! Stick to Dickens and Thackeray and Hugo. Before you go I’ll give you a list of books to read." "There are bad Btories, then, just as there are bad people t" "Yes. Sewn on that button yet!" "I've been afraid to take the coat form under the pillow." "Funny, about that coat. You told him there wasn’t anything in the pockets!" "Yes." "How did he take it!" "He did not seem to care." "There you are, just as I said. We’ve got to get him to care. We’ve got to make him take up the harp of life and go twanging it again. That’s the job. He’s young and sound. Of course, there ’ll be a few kinks to straighten out. He’s passed through gome rough mental tor ture. But one of these days every thing will click book into place. Great sport, eh! To haul them back from the ragged edge. Wouldn’t it be fun to see his name on a book-cover some day! He’ll go strutting up and down without ever dreaming he owed the whole lot to us. That would be fun, eh!" 'I wonder if you know how kind you aret You are like somebody out of a book.” , . “There, nowl You mustn’t get mixed. You mustn’t go by what you read so mueh as by what you see and hear. You must remember, you’ve just be gun to read; you haven’t any comparisons. You mustn’t go dressing up Tom, Dick, and Har ry in Henry Esmond’s ruffles. What you want to do is to imagine every woman a Becky Sharp and every man a Rawdon Crawley.” “I know what is good,” she replied. “Yes; but what is good isn’t always proper. And so, here we are, right back from where we started. But no more of that. Let’s talk of this chapl There’s good stuff in him, if one could find the way to dig it out. But pathologically, he is still on the edge. Unless we can get some optimism into him, he ’ll probably start this all over again when he gets on his feet. That’s the way it goes. But between us, tfe’ll have him writing books some day. That ’s ohe of the troubles with young folks: they take themselves so seriously. He probably imagines himself to be a thousand times worse off thaft he actually is. Youth finds it pleasant sometimes to be melan choly. Disappointed- piipy.-love, and all that. , “Puppy-love.” • “A young fellow who thinks he *8 in love, when he has only been reading too much.” “Do girls have puppy-lore!” “Land sakes, yes! On the average they are worse than the boys. A boy can forget his ama tory troubles playing baseball; but a girl can’t find any particu lar distraction in doing fancy work. Do you know, I envy you. All the world before you, all the ologies. What an adven ture! Of course, voull bark your shins here ana there and hit your funnybone: but the newness of everything will be something of a compensation. All right. Let’s get one idea into our heads. We are going to hare this chap writing books one of these days.” Ideas are never born'; they are suggested; they are planted seeds. Ruth did not reply, but stared past the doctor, her eyes misty. The doctor had sown • seed, carelessly. All that he ha4 sown that afternoon with suck infinite care was as nothing com pared to this seed, cast without forethought. Ruth’s mind was fertile soil; for a long time to come it would be something of a hothouse: green things would spring up and blossom over night. Already the seed of a tender dream was stirring. The hour for which, presumably, she had been created was drawing nigh. For in life there is but one hour: an epic or an idyll: all other hours lead up to and down from it. “By the way,” said the doc tor, as he sat down in the din ing room of the Victoria and ordered tea, I’ve been thinking it over.” “Whatt” “We'll put those stories back ir.to the trunk and never speak of them to him.” “But why nott” The doctor dallied with his teaspoon. Something about the girl had suggested an idea. It would have been the right idea, had Ruth been other than what she was. First-off, he had de cided not to tell her what ho had found at the bottom of that manila envelope. Now it occurr ed to him that to show her the sealed letter would be « better way- Impressionable, lonely, a deal beyond his analytical reach, the girl might let her sym pathies go beyond those of the nurse. She would be enduing this chap with attributes he did not possess, clothing him in fictional ruffles. To disillusion her, forth with. << i'1*1! tel1 you he said. At the bottom of that big en velope I found this one.” He passed it over and Ruth read: To be opened In cat* of ray death and the letter lnaide forwarded to the address thereon. All my personal ef fects left In charge of the nearest American Consulate. (TO BB CONTINTTicn) Courted 20 Years, She Gels Damages of $250 Belfast.—Matthew Maguire, a weal thy farmer, courted Miss Mary Jones for twenty years. Than he married another woman Miss Jones, fsellng that Magulrs's long courtship had caused her to "mlsq xthe market” so far as chances of marrying were concerned, took the matter Into court. She said she had declined several other proposals be cause she thought Maguire would marry her and exhibited a diary in which she had marked ”X” evehy time Maguire had kissed her. A Jury decided that twenty years of unproductive courtship were worth $250 and gave Mlse Jones damages in that amount. A Large Category From the Springfield Republican Nuisance taxes, after all, are taxes which have not yet been repealed. Teaching Self Control in 8chool By W. A. Aery In the Southern Workman It Is not enough to encourage high school teachers to do certain posi tive things. Administrative officers, particularly principals, should Insist that their teachers refrain in all classroom work from indulging In sarcastic or contemptuous remarks, no matter how Ignorant or trifling iom« students may appear, for It is often true that "smartness” or "freshness” or "Impudence” or clev erness of repartee on the part of students Is merely a cloak for lack of knowledge or fear of being shown up as unprepared before the class. All teachers should respect the personalities of their pupils and give them an opportunity of getting a fair hearing whenever a matter of serious difficulty arises. A pupil who feels that a teacher Is unfair always leaves the school with a de sire to strike back, not. only at the teacher, but also at all constituted authority, whether vested in school or other officers. ‘High School' principals should see to It that their teachers—thd they themselves—set pttyilA sound Stand ards of self control, for nothing Is so demoralising as a group of teachers who repeatedly "let themselves go;" that Is, have spells Of quick temper, mete out rapid punishment without getting at underlying facts, or get “edgy” as to theif nerves. Nothing done In temper Is ever done right. Law is slow moving. Individual violence paves the way for-mob vio lence and the only way to peace is through Intelligence, self control, and the persistent exercise of Christian virtues—patience, gentleness, meek ness, forgiveness and long-suffering. Glass Snakes From Adventure Magazine A man I have long known a.s honest and reliable in conversation recently mentioned that he saw a glass snake in the cemetery at Piedmont, Mo., last spring. He and a friend were out foi a walk. The friend threw a stone at a snake and hit It, and It broke In three pieces, each of which made off In different directions. My Informant, who prefers to remain nameless, said that only the head end of the snake seemed to know where It was bound and that the other two segments moved aimlessly although they trav elled more than could be accounted for as mere serpentine writhing. The segments, he averred, fitted each into another much the same as a Jointed fishing rod. My friend said that D. R. Thomas, a Piedmont merchant, frequently has 1 seen these snakes which are from one to two feet long, slim aud without any [ obvious markjpcs. THE MAN WHO COUNTS Theodore Roo«*velt It Is not the critic who count*; cot the man who point* out how the strong man stumbled, or where the doer of deeJts could have done them bette*-. The jredit belongs to the ma>t who is actually in the arena; whoge face Is marred by dust and iwe.»* and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows the great enthusiasm, the great devotions, spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement; and who at the worst, if he fails, at least falls whll* daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those sold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat. »- .. . I TODAY BY ARTHUR BRISBANE Science beats fiction, magic spir itualism and many of the miracles. Science can perform Its miracles' every day In the presence of a crowd. Miracles of witchcraft, spir itualism, etc., require special light, special conditions. Men in a flying machine can’tj hear each other. The roar of the! motor prevents. But with the motor) roaring a full mile above Central park In New York, a filer talked Into a transmitter. i _ 1 Starting a new religion today, and trying to attract attention would require miracles most sensational. England sends troops, battleships, cruiser flying machines, bare-leg leg Highlanders to to Sudan. That’s a rich country, supplying raw ma terials. and wise Britain won’t lose It. The Nile flows through the Su dan and Egyptians think they should control the Nile. But, with her flying machines, England will have her way. The old days are gone when sav ages in the desert could defy civ-! lllsatlon. Flying machines beat camels in crossing deserts. The Rockefeller foundation, dis tributing some of the Rockefeller millions, will spend 95,000,000 on a health Institution In Japan. This enterprise, which may soften Japa nese bitterness, will carry on in Ja pan, work that the Rockefellers have begun in China, fighting disease, teaching people to take care of themselves. Fighting disease at Its source is useful to the whole world. Plagues that strike Europe and America often have travelled from the east. Cholera and “Spanish’* Influenza, for Instance. ' Another work Mr. Rockefeller la] doing, without perhaps thinking* seriously about It. By deceasing] Asia's death rate he 1s increasing the world's percentage of Asiatic population. That 15,000,000 Rockefeller Insti tute in Japan may be represented by 5,000,000 extra soldiers in a war of the east against the west 100 years hence. However, the Rockefellers, father, and son, both deeply religious, prob ably feel that they ean go safely! ahead doing what they can to save' j human life, leaving the rest to Di vine Wisdom. Whether Providence plans to keep Asiatic and European populktions balanced or not, it Is certain thati jome disasters in Asia are above! the helping powers even of the! Rockefeller pocketbook. Ton read) now of horrible floods In China.j “thousands of villages under water,! 10,000,000 facing famine. All the] Rockefeller money could not wipe] out the effects of that single flood.: How many lives were lost by drowning, no one knows. Chinese statistics mean little. When they give China’s population as 400,000,000 they mean 400,000,000 people of an’ age to work or be taxed. They pay little attention to the financially) useless, very old and very young. The great god “demos’* Is influ-, enced by little things. President Coolidge will show political wisdom If he denies the rumor that he is to watch a polo game wit* Oha . Prince of Wales. That expedition would cost votes ! with farmers who have treuble enough getting their ploughs, har [ rows and mowing machines over the ground, without chasing a wooden polo ball over It. Wearing a solemn black coat and black hat In the White House, is the wisest thing President Coolidge can do from now until next No-, vember. Severn young men era locked up In New Jersey for holding up a young man and woman In an automobile.1 They beat the young man Into in-, sensibility, assaulted and horribly' maltreated the young woman. Ypu^ share the Indignation of the public prosecutor who describes “misguided old > women carrying layer, sponge and angel cake to the men In jail.” It will disgrace "Jer sey , justice" If thoss young men, after conviction escape with less than life Imprisonment, without pos sibility of commutation. , As to ths old women “carrying angel cake" to the young criminals, they would make interesting sub jects for the specialists In the Losb Leopold case. More Permanent. From the Lafayette Journal and Courier. They do say modern girls are not so modest as were the maidens of other days, but It seems to us that blushes nowadays last longer. F. O. B. From the Santa Barbara News. McCann (Well Intoxicated)—“How much do I 'owe yuh?” Taxi Driver—“Eight dollars and forty cents." McCann—"Oosh, thash awful! (tuesh you’ll ’have t’ drive me back t’ sixty five centsh. 'cause thash all I got." s Playing Safa. From Judge Mrs. MacTavlsh (during radio c»urch service): "Why are ye recuevea' the earphones, Sandy?*’ Sandy: "Thsy’re takto* up thi cei 'actlon new.*’ I •usinsss CHsncss in Alaska By Theodor 3. Solomons, In Adven ture Magazine A young man who is footloose, pos sesses ordinary health and strength, and has the character and determi nation to keep straight, work, and stay with it for an indeterminate number of years, ordinarily will do better in Alaska than here in the United States, because it a new country of vast resources, growing slowly but steadily. He must not expect to “strike It rich." Even in bonanza days of placer mining few made good compared to the mobs that stormed the gold camps. Farm ing, stock raising, reindeer herding, mining In many forma—gold, copper, oil, coal and the like—and general business Industry In connection with the mines and towns afford chance* for solid success. Hunting and trap ping are alluring to many who writ* me, but except those few who ar* experienced and-clever and willing to isolate themselves in distant wilds, there isn’t much in it, sine* the natives get a<- great deal, and the country has been a fur country for more than 150 years. It Is foolish to plan too definitely on either a particular place or a particular occupation and take a big outfit to the place. No pen picture of the country or the life will suffice to enable an intending settler to make such a choice wisely—to ftt his own special tastes and needs. I always advise going up there with no outfit except a few personal necessities or a favorite gun—ll hunting is a part of the plan—and then looking around. Work h8re and there, see the country, absorb Its peculiar features, and then make a sensible choice—or go out again. Keep what money you bring io your pocket, in the form of ex change if possible. Use it later— when you won’t lose it. Opportuni ties come up constantly where the employment of a little cash may mean everything to a young man’s future—a good "prospect’’ or lease on a mine, a store business, a lot, a boat—many things. The tender foot, investing rashly. Is soon stripped. It costs all the way from $30 to $150 to get Into Alaska from, Seattle, according to where one goes. Work may usually be obtained by waiting one's chance. The one best piece of advice I can give with regard to acquiring infor mation is to obtain—mostly fu nothing— all tnformafiorv issued by the department of agriculture and the Interior, Washington, D. C„ on the subject of Alaska for the set tler, miner, etc., and If you have any certain district particularly in mind, the pamphlets relating to that district issued by the geological survey (part of the department of the interior). You will be sent an index of all publications first if you wish tt, and may then make seiec# tion. Library books on Alaska, while Interesting, have not kept pace with conditions, and are usually more picturesque than reliable. " The Dream's' : ) Two dreams came down to earth one night From the realm of mist and dewt One was a dream of the old, old days, And one was a dream of the new •One wag a dream of a shady lane That led to the pickerel pond, Where the willows and rushed bowed themselves To the brown hills beyond. And the people that peopled the old time dreams Were pleasant and fair to see, , /nd the dreamer he walked with them again. As often of old walked he. Oh, cool was the wind In the shady lane That tangled his curly hair; Oh sweet was the music the robins made To the springtime everywhere! Was It the dew the dream had brought From yonder midnight skies. Or was it tears from the dear, dead years That lay In the dreamer’s eyes? The other dream ran fast and free. As the moon benignly shed Her golden grace on the smiling face In the little trundle-bed. Foi ’twas a dream of times to come— Of the glorious noon of day— Of the summer that follows the careless spring When the child Is done with play. And ’twas a dream of the busy world. Where valorous deeds are done; Of battles fought In the cause of right. And of victories nobly won. It breathes no breath of the dear old home. And the quiet Joys of youth; It gave no glimpse of the good old friends. Or the old-time faith and truth. But 'twaS' a dream or youthful hopes. And free and fast It ran, And it told to a little sleeping child Of a boy become a man! These were .the dreams that came one night To earth frotn yonder sky; These were the dreams two dream ers dreamed— My little boy and I. * And in our hearts my boy and I Were glad that it was so; He loved to dream of days to come And I of long ago. So from our dreams my boy and I Unwillingly awoke. But neither of his precious dream Unto the other spoke. Yet to the love we bore those dreams Gave each his tender sign, For there was triumph In his eyes— And there were tears in mine! —Eugene Field. Overdoing It. From the Boston Transcript. Mr. M., who was dining out, had done lavish Justice to the good things set before nlm. By way of a grateful apol ogy, he remarked, with a beaming emile directed toward the hostess: "I've always heard, Mrs. Blank, • that the highest compliment one can pay the housekeeper Is to eat heartily. Vou observe that I have been exceedingly polite." "Thank you. Mr. M." smiled back the hostess. "Indeed, I think that you have carried pedteness to the point of flattery."
